Swallowing a mouthful of food, she said, “I got some books.”

I looked over what she’d taken. The Hobbit. Black Like Me. Catcher in the Rye.

“Did you like going to your uncle’s?”

I nodded. “Aunt Geniel doesn’t have any children so she spoils us.” I picked up Catcher in the Rye. “You know this book was banned.”

“I know. It made me want to read it.”

“What’s it about?”

She finished her sandwich and began making herself another. “This guy who gets kicked out of school and runs away.”

I could see why she got the book. I picked up The Hobbit. “I’ve read this.”

“I heard it was good.”

“It’s really good.” I set it back down. “So what are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing. How about you?”

“We have church. But I can get out of it. I was thinking maybe we could do something.” I studied her face for a reaction.

“That would be fun.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to sound too excited. “It’s a date. I mean, it’s not a date, but we’ll do something.”

She smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye.”

She waved as I crawled out.

Joel was in the kitchen making himself a glass of Ovaltine when I walked back into the house. “She still there?”

“Yeah.” I poured myself a glass of milk, measured in a couple heaping tablespoons of Ovaltine and began stirring, the spoon ringing off the sides of the glass.

My dad called from his room. “Hey, Eric, what did you do with that food?”

I stopped stirring. “What food?” I asked.

“The food Geniel sent home with us.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“You didn’t forget it, did you?”

Joel looked at me. Without saying anything I pointed to the back door.

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” I shouted. “Guess I did.”

My father groaned. “I wanted another one of those ham sandwiches.”

CHAPTER Seven

Eric saved my life today. Of course I wouldn’t have been
in danger in the first place if it wasn’t for him, so
I guess it just evens things out.

GRACE’S DIARY

SUNDAY, OCT. 14

As a boy I hated church. Not the institution or God, just going to the Sunday service. I believed in Jesus and I always said my prayers and grace over meals. It was just the boredom of sitting on a hard bench hearing the same thing from old people every week.

I suppose my church experience was a bit more varied than most. My parents never really settled on a specific religion. My dad always said that heaven was like a wheel and every church was a spoke leading to the same place, so with that core philosophy my parents selected their church the way most people select diners—by proximity. We had gone to Methodist, Baptist, and Lutheran churches. Since the closest church was a Mormon one about three blocks from our home we started going there.