Free Pieces of Why by K. L. Going Page B

and my tight jeans on—”
    Keisha tackled him around the waist and the two of them fell laughing into a heap on the floor. I laughed too, and for one crazy moment I imagined it was
my
father there, laughing and tickling, singing in falsetto and dishing up the love.

CHAPTER 14
    T HE NEXT MORNING the apartment was quiet. Dwayne wasn’t up yet, Keisha was still in her pajamas, and Ms. Evette, Jerome, and I were sitting around the kitchen table eating thick slabs of toasted bread with strawberry jam. Jerome had jam all over him—even in his ear. Ms. Evette was reading the morning paper and she didn’t look happy.
    â€œSays here they’ve arrested two young men for that carjacking,” she grumbled. “’Course it’s two black men, so who knows if they’ve got the right people or they’ve just got the most
c
onvenient
people.”
    She set the paper down with a shove and sipped her coffee. I was burning to look at the article, wondering if there might be pictures of the men and whether I’d see the bad in their eyes. But I forced myself to sit still and wait until she was done. When I finally got a look at the paper, there weren’t any pictures at all. Just two names:
Tarik Miller, 29,
and
Rondo Waters, 24
. Who were they? Did they have families? Kids?
    â€œDo you know how many African American men are falsely imprisoned each year?” Ms. Evette was saying. “Too many. Precious young men, stolen from this community. It’s a shame.”
    From the living room, I heard Keisha groan. “Ma,” she complained, “it’s too early for this lecture. I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”
    â€œThat’s not my fault,” Ms. Evette scolded. “Get dressed, get your butt in the kitchen, and eat something.”
    Keisha shuffled in, rubbing her eyes. Jerome tossed a bit of toast onto the floor and she leaned over to pick it up, tickling him under his chin.
    â€œYou’re such a stinker,” she said as Jerome tossed more toast.
    Ms. Evette watched them, and at first her face was still hard and grumbly, but then she smiled as Jerome put a bit of soggy toast in Keisha’s mouth and Keisha sputtered, spitting it out real fast. Ms. Evette chuckled, and it was as if I could see the exact moment she’d moved on from the news.
    â€œCome on,” she said, cleaning Jerome off with a washcloth and then lifting him up from his high chair. “Time to catch the streetcar.” She nodded to me. “Let’s get moving, hon. Keisha, you eat something healthy. And don’t play your music too loud. Your dad’s sleeping.”
    Dwayne had been out of work for a long time, butsometimes he was able to pick up a night shift at the Autocenter. They paid him cash under the table so he wouldn’t lose his unemployment.
    Keisha nodded and I sighed, thinking about my lesson with Ms. Marion. Normally, I couldn’t wait, but I was dreading this one. I knew she’d have something to say about me handing my lead over to Mary-Kate at June Fest.
    I said good-bye to Keisha as Ms. Evette put on Jerome’s tiny sneakers and grabbed her briefcase. Then I followed them out of the apartment and down the steps. It was bright and sunny, and a cool breeze made the banana trees wave. We walked real quiet for a couple blocks before Ms. Evette glanced my way.
    â€œI’ve missed your singing,” she said. “You’ve been some quiet these past few days.”
    â€œI have?” I said, as if I hadn’t felt the loss like a punch to the gut. Singing was my favorite thing in the world, so why didn’t I want to do it anymore?
    Ms. Evette laughed. “Okay,” she said. “You be that way if you must, but just remember that I’m not so senile yet that I don’t remember what it was like to be your age. Lots of changes going on.”
    I blushed, knowing she meant stuff like having crushes on boys and wearing a