Free Southern Cross by Jen Blood

family was the least of it, though, because
then there was Barnel and his people out there hollering lies, and his daddy
there in the casket, and Ida crying, and Mama trying to hold on even though her
whole world might as well be over. He sat there beside Rick, both of ‘em quiet,
and he just kept repeating to himself: Keep it together. It’s almost over.
    But
when it was over, it only got worse. Danny watched the preacher close the lid
on his daddy’s coffin, and it hit him like a running tackle in the end
zone—just took his knees out from under him and knocked the breath right out of
his lungs:
    He
was really gone.
    Danny
rode to the cemetery with the family, and he stayed with them while they
lowered the coffin into the ground. He kept it together when his Mama wrapped
her arms around him and held on, whispered in his ear, “You had your
differences, but your daddy was so proud of you.”
    He
just kept hanging on.
    Finally,
back at the house, he told Rick he was going out for awhile. “I’ve gotta
practice. The band needs me.”
    Rick
frowned. “Can’t you give it a rest just one day? Mama doesn’t want you takin’
off—you should be here to look after things.”
    “I
thought that’s what you was here for,” Danny said. “Trust me, they won’t even
know I’m gone.”
    “That’s
bull and you know it,” he said, his back up now. Rick was a little smaller than
Danny, but he was in better shape thanks to tennis and runnin’ and whatever
else kept him busy while Danny was out causin’ trouble. Back in the day, Danny
could usually be sure he’d win in a fight. Now, that wasn’t so likely. Win or
lose didn’t matter just then, though; Danny didn’t have any interest in
fighting. 
    Diggs
showed up from around the corner, looking hangdog and tired. Danny had missed
it when he went after Jesup Barnel, but it looked like Diggs got the worst of
it: his nose was swollen and his lip was split, his right eye turning purple.
Still, Danny wished he’d been there to see it.
    “Let
him go,” Diggs told Rick.
    Rick
turned on him, pissed. “But Mama said—”
    “I’ll
smooth things over with Mae,” Diggs said. “Just take it easy, Rick. Why don’t
you go take a breather yourself? It’ll do you some good.”
    He
walked off before Rick could make anymore fuss. Danny followed along behind as
Diggs led him out the back door, into the backyard, and out behind the shed
where Danny used to sneak smokes when he was still a kid.
    “How’re
you doing?” Diggs asked.
    Danny
shook his head. He felt tears start, and it took everything in him to push them
back down. Diggs stepped back a little, looking sad and sorry. He touched
Danny’s shoulder.
    “You’re
gonna be okay,” he said. “It sucks right now, but it’ll get better.”
    “You
sound like one of them commercials they’re always playing at school. ‘It gets better.’”
He wiped his eyes and let out a long sigh. “Shit. I need a joint.”
    Diggs
laughed dryly. “Tell me about it.”
    “You
really think it’s okay if I take off awhile?”
    “Yeah,”
Diggs nodded. “You’ve put in your time. Go. Don’t do anything stupid: no drinking
and driving; no smoking and driving. I’ll tell your mom I said it was okay. She
can take it out on me if it’s not.”
    “I
won’t be late,” Danny promised.
    “If
you end up doing too much or you need anything, call me,” Diggs added. “Doesn’t
matter when, I’ll come get you. No questions asked, no explanations needed. Got
it?”
    “Got
it.”
    He
got moving before Diggs changed his mind, already feeling a little better now
that he was on his own.
     
    Danny’s
pickup was parked at the head of the road, a good two miles’ walk away; Mama
had said they needed to leave space for everybody else to park. He loosened his
tie and took off his suitcoat, wishing he’d thought to change before he left.
Still, he had some stuff in the truck that would be all right for now. It’s not
like he was looking