grinned, his eyes most definitely firing up the place. âIf you say so.â
âAllan, cough dropsâwith honey, no lemon.â Devane tossed him the box.
âThanks.â
âWhat Iâm here for,â Devane said. She swept her eyes over the room, looking for anyone else who looked like they needed anything. Gina definitely seemed to be stressing. Devane hurried over.
âThereâs nothing for you to do right now,â Devane told her teacher. âIâve got everything under control. How about if I give you a neck massage? I do it for my mom sometimes when she has one of her double-job days. She says Iâm the best.â
Gina smiled. âIâm sure you are. But a massage wonât get ill papi over here, and, honestly, thatâs what I really need.â
âIâll leave him another message.â Devane pulled the cell Emerson had loaned her out of her pocket.
âThatâs okay,â Gina said. âOne message is the same as twenty, right? You either get it or you donât. I just hope nothing serious has happened to him.â
So no more messages. What else could Devane do to get ill papi to the regionals? Because truth, the crew needed him. Especially without her.
Okay, what did she know about ills? From the contact sheet, she knew he lived in Liberty Heights. Too far for her to go over and get himâif he was home and not answering the phone or if the phone wasnât working.
But her momâs friend Tisha lived over there. So Tisha could go over to ill papiâs and see what the sitch was and report back to Devane. And if ill papi was home, Tisha could drive him over here. Devane dialed as she pulled the contact sheet sheâd used to call ill papi out of her pocket.
âTamal, I need Tishaâs phone number,â she said. âAnd letâs just skip over all the negotiating. Get me the number without saying anything else and you get enough snickerdoodles to make you sick for a week.â
In less than thirty seconds, Devane had the number. She punched it into the phone. The thinnest cell sheâd ever seen.
âHuddle up, everybody,â Gina called. âItâs intermission. We need to talk.â
Devane moved away from the group and put one finger in her ear. She wished she could just deal with Tisha the way she had with Tamal. But Tisha would want manners and explanations and all.
âHey, Tisha,â she said when her motherâs friend answered. âItâs Devane Edwards. How are you?â
Tisha wasnât one of those people who just said âfine.â She was one of those people who told you exactly how she wasâstarting with her bunions and moving on up to the roots of her hair, which she needed to have dyed.
Devane clucked and went âI hear youâ until Tisha wrapped it up. âAnd how are you doing? Howâs your mom?â
Tisha saw Devaneâs mother almost every day at the Shop Rite where they worked. So Devane answered the first question. âIâm not so great right this second, Tisha. I thought maybe you could help me.â
âWhatâs wrong?â Tisha sounded alarmed.
âNo, wait. Iâm not hurt or anything,â Devane said quickly. How could she have forgotten how fast Tisha could lose it? âIâm fine. Tamalâs fine. Mamaâs fine. Iâm just down at a competition for my hip-hop dance group. One of our dancers didnât show, and we really need him if weâre going to win tonight.â
âYou scared me half to death for that?â Tisha scolded.
âIâm sorry. Truly,â Devane apologized. âThe thing is, he lives in your neighborhood. I was wondering if you could possibly run over to his house. Iâve been trying to get in touch with himâbut maybe his phone is out or something.â
âDevane, Iâve been working all day. I donât have time to be your messenger girl. Does your