He looked me over. “Well if it ain’t Scratch himself.” He looked at Joel. “Who are you, Howdy Doody?”

“I’m the Lone Ranger,” Joel said.

He looked back at me. “Guess that makes you Tonto, sweetie.” He punctuated his remark with a swig from his can. Even if I hadn’t already known who he was I wouldn’t have liked him. He looked out across the yard where Grace had been. I panicked.

“Are you going to give us candy or not?”

He looked back at me. “Oh, a smart aleck. Show me a trick first. That’s the deal, ain’t it?”

“No,” I said.

“No trick, no candy.”

I heard a woman’s voice. “Quit giving them a hard time Stan.”

He looked at me. “You think you’re the devil?” He laughed. “Here’s a trick for you. Get on all-fours and bark like a dog. Go on.”

I turned. “C’mon, Joel, let’s go.”

“Oh, don’t like that, huh?”

We walked away.

“What a couple of Marys,” he yelled after us. He laughed, then slammed the door.

“I told you this was a bad street,” Joel said.

When we reached the sidewalk Grace was gone.

“Where’d she go?” Joel asked.

“I don’t know.” I was sure she’d be waiting for us. When we got near the end of the block we found her sitting on the curb behind a garbage can. She was sobbing so hard she could hardly catch her breath. I knelt down next to her. “You okay?”

It was a while before she could speak. “Let’s go home, please.”

I helped her to her feet and we all walked five blocks to a bus stop. Grace didn’t say a word until the bus came and we were safely on board.

“Was that your stepfather?” I asked.

She didn’t answer.

“We didn’t like him either.”

She didn’t say anything the rest of the night. She didn’t even want her candy.

CHAPTER Twenty

Last night I saw Stan.
I don’t know why God put people like him on this earth.
Maybe for the same reason He made rattlesnakes,
cancer, and earthquakes.

GRACE’S DIARY

MONDAY, NOV. 5

Another Monday at the Queen. I was standing up front at the cash register when a woman about my mother’s age walked in. She had a bouffant hairdo that looked like it was a yard high and pretty eyes that matched her blue topaz necklace. In one hand she held a rolled-up poster.

“May I help you?” I asked.

She said with a slight southern accent, “I’d like to speak with your manager.”

“Our assistant manager’s here,” I said. “I’ll get him.” I walked to the back where Gary was checking receipts against a cash register tape. “Gary, there’s a woman up front asking for you.”