Upside Down in the Middle of Nowhere (28 page)

“Did you report us to CPS? Tell me the truth.”

Miss Priscilla raised her eyebrows and looked at Matthew. He shrugged again.

“What? Tell me. I wanna know if them people from CPS are comin'!” It felt like I was sucking all my oxygen through a straw.

Sealy looked fast from one of us to the other—panic showing plain as day in her eyes.

“Honeybee, you're breakin' my heart. I
am
CPS.”

Sealy gasped.

“No, you're not,” I said.

“Sure she is, Armani,” Matthew said. “How did you
not
know that?”

“I . . . I . . . I don't—”

“So are you taking us to jail now?” Sealy whimpered.

“Good heavens, no! Why on earth would I do that, darlin'? I'm just here to help y'all. I was assigned the task of lookin' after the unattended children—like all of y'all.” She swooped her hand at the group of us.

“But I seen you,” I said. “I seen you the night we got here and you took them two boys! I thought you were takin' 'em to CPS so they
could haul 'em off to jail or foster care or somethin'.” Lukey and little John's heads popped up when I said the F word.

“Oh, sweetie, I don't know which boys you're talkin' about. Unless you mean Tyrone and Trevor,” she said, and pointed. About four rows over, as sure as my mama can make a pie, a tall kid with a huge Afro nodded a “hey” and went back to doing whatever he'd been doing.

Me and Sealy just stared at each other.

It took a whole lot of sweet-talking for Miss Priscilla Nash to convince me that she was still the same ol' caring friend she'd been before I learned the truth about her real identity. But the reason I didn't go on and on about the CPS thing was on account of the way it seemed Khayla couldn't even hold her own head up for more than a second or two.

“Khayla needs a doctor,” I said, noticing for the first time how much lighter she felt in my arms. “I know I should've asked for help sooner, but—”

“We do the best we can with what we know, honeybee. The important thing is that you're askin' now. It takes a lot of courage to ask for help.”

“What do you think is wrong with her?” Matthew asked.

“My guess is our little Khayla has the water bug. They've been treating folks in here left and right for a gastrointestinal virus.” She gave a little shiver. “It's a nasty ol' bug.”

“Gas . . . row . . . what?” Sealy asked. “What's that?”

“It's an ugly tummy sickness, sweetheart. They say it's from drinking tainted water.” Right away I remembered Khayla's head slipping under the poisoned water when she fell out of the cooler-boat.

“But don't you worry,” Miss Priscilla said to Sealy and straightened herself up tall. “I'm not gonna let some ol' bug mess with any of my kids.” She winked at the group of us.

Khayla's belly rumbled up against me. I knew the way she shivered wasn't from being cold, 'cause the heat coming off her little body had me in a full-blown sweat.

“Why don't y'all go get something to eat?” I said to all the kids. “I need to talk to Miss Priscilla alone.”

“No problem. Take your time, Armani,” Matthew said, and stepped away with Sealy and his brothers and sister.

I fixed my attention on Miss Priscilla. “I want you to take my sister to the clinic. She needs to see a doctor, and maybe you can get her in quicker than me.”

Miss Priscilla looked at me and raised her eyebrows just the teeniest bit.

I passed the sleepy, bellyaching lump that was Khayla to the lady in the red vest, knowin' for the first time in a long time that I was doing the right thing.

“Well then,” she said, and dabbed at her eyes with what looked like a piece of used-up tissue, “let's not waste another second of this precious day.”

I left the plastic bag under my cot while I laid the clothes out—one piece at a time, thankful that nothing there was foo-foo or frilly.

Sealy and Martha were playing a clapping game like happy fools. The sound of their giggles floated through the sticky-thick air like an
after-supper breeze. Lukey and little John colored in the coloring books they'd stood in line almost an hour for. And Matthew was plopped on a cot, eating another cold cheese sandwich.

“Hey,” I said to Matthew, “do you mind watchin' Sealy while I go change?” I held up the clothes for him to see.

“Naw, go ahead.” He looked over at the girls slapping each other's hands. His eyes fell on my boots. “They have shoes at the clothes station, y'know. Just go up in there and tell 'em what size ya need.”

Heat filled my face.

“Yeah, I know. We got some new ones from Miss Priscilla.” I tried to smile and tuck flyaway hairs behind my ear, but they wouldn't stay. “So anyway, you don't mind watchin' her? I won't be long.”

“It don't matter. But I don't get it. If you got new shoes, how come you're wearin' them fishin' boots?” Matthew smiled and shoved more sandwich in his already full mouth.

I stuck out my hip and planted a hand there. “Look, it ain't none of your business what kinda shoes I do or don't wear. Why do you care anyways?”

The boy smiled that annoying gap-toothed smile of his. I wanted to slap him. “Well, I
don't
care. But why do
you
care so much about whether or not I do?”

“Whatever. For your information, I don't care one dang bit if you care or not.”

“So,” Matthew said. He stood up, yawned and stretched his arms above his head. “If you don't care, then why don't you take them old boots off and get some decent shoes that fit?”

My eyes stung. I forced my idiot feet to move. I took two or three steps away from Matthew. I stopped with my back facing him.

“They were my Memaw's.” The words were barely more than a whisper. “She gave them to me. She wanted me to have them. She's dead. She died in our attic and I have to wear her boots.”

“Aww, man. I'm so sorry. I didn't know.”

I wiped my face with the pile of clean clothes.

“Ya know,” he rambled on, “now that I'm gettin' a closer look at 'em, I kinda like those boots. They ain't all that bad.”

I half-turned and looked at him. He swiped the bangs out of his eyes and I could see the sorry sitting there.

“I understand why you don't wanna be takin' 'em off just yet. If my—”

“It's okay,” I said. “You didn't know.”

Me and Memaw's ugly garden boots clomped off to change into my new clothes.

Miss Priscilla looked like a proud and fancy mama duck with the six of us kids following up behind her through the huge shelter like a row of light and dark baby ducks off on a walk. I could've followed that woman with my eyes closed just by letting my nose track her scent.

The cots left behind by the people on their way to Houston were gathered up and stacked out of the way, making more space for groups of little kids to have races from one side to the other. They ignored the tired-looking orange-haired man every time he hollered for them to stop running inside. I knew he was just doing his job, but if they couldn't run inside, where were they supposed to run?

Sealy and Martha walked in front of me holding hands—swinging their arms—giggling and whispering secrets. Watching them and thinking about seeing Khayla added a bounce to my own step.

“All right, y'all,” Miss Priscilla said and turned to face us. “C'mon now, scooch yourselves on up here.”

We bunched around her in a huddle, standing by the opening of a huge indoor tent.

Miss Priscilla stood up straight and smiled big, fluffing her teased-out wig with both hands. “All righty then. Now, I'm gonna check and
make sure it's a good time for visiting. Y'all stay right here and don't move a speck. I'll be right back.”

We stood all smushed up on each other by the flapping canvas door. People walked past us going in and out of the tent-clinic. Every time the flap went this way or that, a whoosh of Lysol disinfectant flew up my nose. I kept my eyes on the black-and-white-checkered floor and tried to keep my breaths coming. Miss Priscilla had made it clear I didn't need to worry about no one asking me questions in the clinic, but I sure couldn't turn down the worry going on up in my head.

“Hey, you okay?” Matthew asked in my ear.

“Yeah, I just want Miss Priscilla to hurry up. What's takin' her so long?”

“She's only been gone a minute,” Matthew said. “She'll be back soon.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Miss Priscilla popped her happy head out through the tent-clinic door. “Y'all follow me now, and stay close. No wanderin'.” She used her pinched-together finger and thumb to pretend she was zipping her mouth shut. Sealy and Martha copied her. I even seen Sealy pretend to throw away the invisible key.

We walked a good ways in when Miss Priscilla stopped and said, “The doctor's in with Khayla, so we'll wait here for him to finish his exam. By the way, I asked y'all's friend, Mr. High Pockets, to sit with your sister till we got here. The nurses say he hasn't left her side.”

“That's cool,” Matthew said.

“It sure is,” Miss Priscilla beamed, “and helpful too. It's nice to have someone makin' sure Khayla-girl doesn't pull out her IV.”

IV?
My stomach tightened up.

“What's the matter, honeybee?”

“Nothin'.” I shrugged. “Why don't y'all go on ahead without me? I can wait here.” I looked around and there was no place for me to stand or sit—or wait. We were in the middle of a teeny hallway made out of tent walls.

“Khayla will want to see you, Armani.” Sealy looked at me with Mama's eyes.

I looked down and traced the outline of a square with my boot toe. “I'll see her soon as she's feelin' better.”

“Well, if Armani's not going, then I'm not going,” Sealy said, and folded her arms up tight across her chest.

A lady with a crying, coughing baby scooched by and shot a crusty look at the group of us clogging up the skinny hallway.

“Yeah, I agree with Sealy,” Matthew said. “If Armani ain't goin', I ain't goin' neither.” I might've grown one full inch right then.

“Get over here! All of y'all.
Right now
. C'mon.” Miss Priscilla looked as aggravated as a mama who's lost control of her bratty kids in the grocery store. We squished in for another huddle.

Miss Priscilla's mouth tried to look mad, but her eyes were still soft. “Now y'all listen here.” She started pointing at each of us, but mostly me. “I had to pull a lot of strings to get y'all back here. So listen up and listen good.” She paused, staring at me. “There's a baby girl on the other side of this wall”—the wall flapped—”who is very excited to see y'all. Especially you, Miss Armani. So, I expect y'all to put on a happy face and stop all this fussin'.”

Miss Priscilla unwrapped a fresh piece of gum and stuck it in her mouth. She smacked her lips and the juicy smell filled the air, temporarily covering up the odor of Band-Aids and diarrhea.

“Can I tell y'all a secret about your Mr. High Pockets friend?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She grinned. “I can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he sure does like my gum.” She winked, and Sealy and Martha and the little Boman boys giggled.

Miss Priscilla reached into her pocket and pulled out a new pack of gum. Lukey and little John squeezed to the front, instead of hiding behind Matthew like usual. Miss Priscilla pulled the wrapper string, and the fresh smell of Juicy Fruit snapped into the air and made my mouth water. She gave each of us our own piece. It was more refreshing than a glass of iced-down sweet tea.

The Boman kids went to smacking their gum, not chewing polite with their mouths closed like Mama taught me and Sealy.

Something about chewing that gum brought out the sweet in me and changed my mind from wanting to run the opposite way like a frightful dumb scuttlebug.

A soft hum came from somewhere in the room. Not the annoying kind of hum that came from the gray lights at night. This was a nice, soothing hum.

Mr. High Pockets was his usual slap-happy self, sitting up in a big ol' rocking chair next to Khayla's bed. When he seen us, his grin went so big and real, I knew we'd made his day just by walking in. Mr. High Pockets pulled me in for a hug with a strength I didn't know he had.

While the kids were saying all their heys to Mr. High Pockets, I stood over Khayla, who was lying on her back in the oversized metal crib. I couldn't take my eyes off the tube hanging out of her arm.

“Go on, honeybee,” Miss Priscilla said. “You can pick her up.”

Khayla's arms went straight up into the air, begging me to hold her.

Miss Priscilla must've known that I was nervous about touching my own sister, 'cause without saying one word, she lowered the side of the bed and scooped up Khayla. She plopped her up against me and had the IV tube tucked somewhere so I wouldn't accidentally yank it out of her little arm.