Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere (25 page)

“No, ma'am. Mama ain't here right now.” My good manners were surprising, even to me. Especially considering the way my insides were twisted in a knot like I'd gone and caught Khayla's bellyache.

“What about your daddy?”

My heart thumped in an unnatural way on both sides of my head. If Miss Highfalutin' didn't stop trying to get all up in my business, I was gonna shove one of Memaw's boots down her Juicy Fruit throat. She needed to go on and bother someone else.

“No, ma'am. Daddy ain't here, neither,” I said, just as nice as pie. My eyes scanned every which way searching for our stand-in daddy, Mr. High Pockets.

Sealy went back to writing in her journal.

“Oh my, you're keepin' a journal!” the woman said, looking down at Sealy like she was gonna eat her up. “I always keep mine close by, 'cause I never know when I'm gonna need it.”

Sealy whipped around, all but tearing my fingers loose from her hair. I seen the tiniest twinkle come back in her eyes. “Me too! My teacher says the only way people can stay sharp is if they read and write
every
day.”

“Well, it sure sounds like you've got a fine teacher.” She winked at Sealy, and Sealy beamed. “It's so nice to see you writin' away with your pretty little feather pen. I've got a flamingo-pink one at home just like it.”

Sealy giggled, but it didn't do one thing to settle my nerves.

Khayla scooted up close to me. She stared at the loud lady and rubbed her eyes with her fat little fists. The lady tilted her head and smiled at my baby sister all sweet-like, the same way she looked at that little kid she hauled off to Child Protective Services the night before. I was seeing straight through her pretending-to-be-nice act.

I stood up. “Well,” I said, letting my eyes drill holes into the meddlin' woman, “we best be gettin' back to what we was doin'. Thanks for stoppin' by to say hey.” I took a clumsy step closer to the confused, sweet-smelling woman. “Y'all say bye to the nice lady. She's leavin' now.” I gave her one of my famous
you-best-be-leaving-now
looks and a good head slide.

Instead of saying bye, Khayla stood up and took Miss Highfalutin's hand in hers and looked up at the woman with her belly and lip poked out bigger than ever. She said in her cute little voice, “I wanna see Mama now.”

Me and Sealy shot each other a look. I hurried up and wrapped my arm around Khayla's shoulder, planting a quick smile on my face. My lips stuck to my dry teeth. Whatever I was fixin' to say flew right out of my head.

That woman looked straight into me. I wanted to pull my eyes away, but they were fixed on her, just staring. I couldn't even blink. I could
feel
her looking around up inside my head.

I tried to swallow, but there wasn't nothing in my mouth to swallow. The outside corners of the woman's eyes drooped and I seen a tear growing in one of them. There was a look of lonesome sitting in her pretty green-brown eyes that forced me to blink. She smiled a small, soft smile that made my arms ache for one of Mama's morning hugs. My own eyes got blurry.

She nodded at me, then kneeled down next to Khayla. She folded her free hand over the top of the one she had holding Khayla's. As soon as she let loose of my eyes, I pulled the sleeve of my shirt up to wipe across my face.

“What's your name, sweetheart?” she asked my sister.

“Khayla.”

“Khayla.” She said the name and put her hand on the side of my sister's chubby face. Khayla leaned into the woman's hand. “I'm not here to take you to your mama, sweetie. I'm here to see if there's anything I can do to help y'all.” She glanced up at me.

“Are y'all thirsty? What if I get ya somethin' yummy to drink?” Her Juicy Fruit breath floated up and got in my nose. I noticed her name tag for the first time. Priscilla Nash. I was surprised it didn't say Miss Highfalutin'.

Khayla stuck one pudgy finger in her mouth and said, “I want Mama.” Her bottom lip went to quivering and I could see the ugly cry building up on her face.

“Actually,” Sealy said, “she hasn't been feeling very well. She has a tummy ache and dia—”

“Oh, she's just fine. She's just got a little gas. Ain't that right, Khayla?” I faked a loud laugh. Too loud. Not
Priscilla Nash
or nobody else needed to know our business. Sweat ran into my eyes.

When I threw a look at Sealy to let her know her mouth was the size of the entire Gulf of Mexico, Khayla wandered away from us. I tried to point with my head and shifty eyes, but Sealy was too dimwitted to figure out what I was trying to tell her. She just kept staring at me like she was born yesterday.

“Sealy,” I said with my teeth all clenched together. But just then, Khayla got swallowed up by the crowd of people shuffling from every corner of the stupid shelter to get up in the growing food lines. A stab of panic shot through me like it was tied to a rocket.

“Khayla!” I screamed. But the second my fear hit the air, I seen my baby sister rise up over the tops of everybody's heads, smiling all big with her hands wrapped around the top of good ol' Mr. High Pockets' silvery head. He had her up on his shoulders and by the looks of it, he was enjoying the ride as much as Khayla.

Mr. High Pockets' smile went from stretched across his freckly face to a smile that wasn't so sure when he got a good look at me. He brought Khayla down off his shoulders and held her in one arm up against his side, situating her lime-green headband back into place on her frizzy head.

There was an honest-to-goodness ache in my face trying to keep the stupid smile on there. But I had to, on account of Miss up-in-your-business Priscilla Nash watching
everything
.

“My, oh my,” the woman said with both her hands folded up across her chest like it was her sister who almost got lost. “Thank goodness
your daddy was right there!” She turned to look at me. “This man
is
your daddy, right?” I couldn't look at her for more than a second, so I found a spot on the top of Khayla's head to stare at instead.

“Yep,” is all I said. I took Khayla from the man and set her down beside me, careful to keep a hand on her shoulder.

Miss Priscilla Nash walked over to Mr. High Pockets. My brain was screaming:
Why can't this woman just leave us alone?

“Hello,” she said, “My name's Priscilla Nash.” She held out her hand and Mr. High Pockets shook it. “I've been chattin' with your delightful children.”

Lord have mercy
. If Memaw didn't say the words in my ear right then, I don't know who did. Miss Priscilla Nash looked at each one of us, sprinkling her sweetness on us with her eyes. It was making me half sick.

“I haffa use it, Ah-mani.” Khayla hopped from one foot to the next.

“Okay, well, I hate to be rude,” I said, “but she really needs to go to the bathroom.”

Miss Priscilla Nash looked slanty-eyed from me to Mr. High Pockets, who stood there with a lopsided grin on his face. The lady was most likely wondering why our
white
“daddy” wasn't saying a single word.

“Get your book sack, Sealy,” I said, avoiding the eyes of Miss Priscilla Nash.

“My book sack's on my back, silly.”

I stopped all the fiddling I was doing and shot another look at Sealy. It was obvious by the sound of her voice that she didn't have a clue that we were in big trouble if we didn't hurry up and get away from that nosy woman in the red vest.

Eyes poured down on me. I took a deep breath and tried to count to ten the way I'd seen Mama do a thousand times. Fake smiling and trying my best to sound
not
annoyed, I said, “Okay, well, let's take Khayla to the bathroom then.” I rolled my eyes and my head went to sliding from one shoulder to the next. My head just did it, despite my good intentions.

Miss Priscilla Nash and Mr. High Pockets were looking at me like I was crazy. I didn't care. Right then, I
felt
crazy.

I grabbed Khayla by the hand that she wasn't using to hold herself and I walked right over and slipped my other hand into Mr. High Pockets' leathery hand. I clomped off, heading to the stupid mile-long line for the bathroom. I never looked back at the lady I'd left standing there. Sealy scuttled up behind me and hollered, “It was very nice meeting you, Miss Priscilla Nash!”

“Likewise!” the woman hollered back.

“Whatever,” I said under my breath, walking as fast and meaningful as I could in the ugly boots.

“What?” Sealy asked when she came up alongside of me.

“We'll see how
nice it was to meet her
when she hauls your babyfied butt to juvenile court or some foster home.” How could I explain to Sealy that I knew Miss Priscilla Nash was a nice lady? I'd seen it in her eyes. But nice people trying to
do the right thing
can be the most dangerous kinds of people. Memaw said so all the time. “Messy do-gooders like that can't be trusted, Sealy.”

Sealy stopped walking. I took a bunch more steps, then turned back to see her just standing there. “Come on, girl, Khayla needs to
use it.” She did too. She was doing the potty dance, hopping from one foot to the other.

“Why are you so mean, Armani? She's a nice lady. She could help us.”

A family carrying a stack of Styrofoam food containers walked right between me and Sealy, making it so I lost sight of her. I didn't like the feeling that swept through me for that one second. The hungry family finally moved out of the way, and there she was, looking more pitiful than ever.

“I ain't mean, Sealy Jean Curtis. I'm tryin' to look out for you, but you're too young an' dumb to understand that.” I turned and headed for the bathroom. Mr. High Pockets' head looked heavy on his shoulders. He was shaking it with a huge frown scrunched up on his face.

“I wish you weren't my sister.” Sealy's words boomed through the air for the whole world to hear and slammed into my chest. I didn't hear nothing else except those hateful six words. No other people. No lights buzzing. No footsteps. No babies wailing. No noise at all. Just Sealy's words,
I wish you weren't my sister
.

Me and Sealy went the whole day without speaking to each other unless we had to. I felt more alone than ever. It was fixin' to be lights out again. The end of another long, frustrating day spent wasting away lying on them cots and walking in circles counting tiles, trying to figure out up in my head how I was gonna go about finding Mama and Daddy.

Khayla still had the runs. Right after we ate disgusting tuna and crackers for lunch, she couldn't make it to the toilet in time. But don't you know, Miss Priscilla Nash showed up, like some kind of fairy godmother, with a new set of clean clothes for her.

I helped little Khayla get into her pretty, new dandelion-yellow shorts set. The stretched-out lime-green headband didn't match, but it was from Mama's dress, so it stayed right where it was. Everything fit perfect. Mama would've been happy that Miss Nash had got the size right, especially on her first try.

As soon as Miss Meddlin' seen with her own two eyes how cute Khayla looked in her new clothes, she asked if we all wanted some. Sealy jumped up and down so crazy, it was embarrassing. If we would've been on speaking terms, I would've told my sister she'd made a begging fool out of herself. Memaw would've explained to
Sealy that our daddy provides us with everything we need on account of his hard work, and the Curtis family sure didn't need no handouts from nobody. But me and Sealy
wasn't
on speaking terms just yet.

I'd been seeing folks grabbing and taking whatever was being handed out, whether they needed it or not. I even seen one lady snatching up waters and shoving them into her shirt. I don't know why—there was red-vested people handing out waters all day long like we were fish and couldn't survive without it. Daddy would be making sure that we took only what we needed, leaving the rest for people less fortunate.

When she came back with the bundles of new clothes for me and Sealy, I was grateful Miss Priscilla Nash didn't ask
why
when I set my stupid pile up under my cot. I thanked the lady and admired how nice my sisters looked in their fresh new outfits. It was amazing how just by changing what they were wearing made such a difference.

“Y'all are so welcome. Ain't that somethin' how I got the sizes right and everything?” It was obvious that Miss Priscilla Nash was just as pleased as punch with her own do-gooding.

“Yes, ma'am,” Sealy gushed. “I love my clothes. Thank you so much.” She ran over and wrapped her arms around the woman's waist. I had to admit, my sister
did
look cute in her khaki shorts and lavender tank top. Miss Nash had even brought a little sandwich baggie filled with new barrettes and hair ties.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's my pleasure.” She squeezed Sealy good and tight. She looked over at me and I remembered to smile. “Oh!” Miss Nash said with such a start that she all but pushed Sealy to the side. “I almost forgot the most important thing!” She looked at the floor from
side to side till she found the white plastic bag. “I would lose my head if it wasn't attached.”

Sealy giggled. I watched, somehow dreading whatever it was that the woman had up inside that bag.

Miss Priscilla Nash hurried up and swiped the bag to the backside of her, like she was hiding it. She cleared her throat and looked at me, big smile and all. I felt sick. “Armani, honey, I picked these out special for you. I sure hope you like 'em.” Out came the
surprise
from behind her back.

“What is it, Armani?”

I opened the bag and knew before I looked inside what it was.

“Well, what is it?” Sealy could barely keep hold of herself.

I closed the bag and held it out for Miss Meddlin' to take back.