Shanice has flopped down on the sofa next to Dingus. Her head is resting on his shoulder, as if she’s tired, but I know she’s not. She’s wearing makeup. Cinnamon-colored lipstick and a dark, dusty line on her lower lid. I hadn’t even noticed it until now. When did she start wearing makeup? And who gave her permission? “Shanice, sit up.”

She frowns and then bolts straight up. “What?” she asks, clearly annoyed.

“What’s your problem?” Paris asks, from the kitchen. She’s fixing something that smells foreign. Lord only knows what it might be.

“Leave that girl alone!” Mama yells from her bedroom.

I walk into her room and sit down next to her on the bed. She has to scoot over. “Mama, I need to ask you a big favor.”

“You won’t be the first. What is it?”

“Could Shanice stay here with you for a few weeks until I can make some decisions? George and I have been having a few problems and I don’t want her subjected to them any more than she has been already.”

“What kind of problems y’all having?” she asks, looking out the corner of her eye.

“Not the kind you think, Mama. It’s complicated, and Shanice could be a big help to you around here, you know, with Daddy being gone. And that school down the street isn’t so bad, is it?”

“You mean you want her to go to school here?”

“She can’t just sit around the house all day.”

“What Shanice think about this?”

“I haven’t asked her yet.”

“Asked or told: which is it, Janelle?”

She just has to make this difficult. “Shanice? Would you come here for a minute, please?”

We both sit there and wait for her to appear in the doorway. “Yes?” she says. Her braids are getting frizzy around her hairline, and her roots are looking like tiny black radishes. She needs a touch-up bad.

Before I can even figure out how to frame the question, Mama says, “I understand your mama and George is having some troubles and she thinks it would be better if you stayed here with me for a few weeks, until she can get things worked out. What you think about that?”

Shanice’s face lights up. I haven’t seen her look this excited in ages. “You mean I don’t have to go home with you tomorrow?”

“No,” I say.

“Yes!” she exclaims, pushing her elbow down to her knee like Arsenio Hall does on his talk show. “How long can I stay with my granny?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks or so.”

“That’s all? That not even fair. You want to take me out of school and put me in another one for a few weeks and then go back to my old school? How’m I supposed to know what’s going on?”

“Wait a minute! I’m thinking. Just trying to figure this out. It’s all happening too fast.”

“Can’t I stay until the end of the school term?”

“I can’t agree to that,” I say. “How about until after spring break?”