“Well, if I had anything else clean to wear, do you think I’d be wearing this in public?” Jasper said with a grimace, holding out the hem of her shirt and doing a little curtsy. “There’s something wrong with the water at our house, and the people from the city haven’t come to fix it. But all my stuff is dirty, and Mom is at work, so she wasn’t able to take me to the laundromat. I couldn’t stand wearing my gross dirty jeans anymore, but I remembered this place and came back. It was this or taking the bus to the laundromat in this nightshirt, my bare legs touching the seats.”

And I guessed that made sense, even if it was a little bizarre. It explained the nightgown, anyway.

“Okay,” I said. “Sure.” Then I glanced from the pile of clothes back to Jasper. “You know, if you want to, you can just come use the washer and dryer at my house. If you don’t mind walking a few more blocks in your pj’s.”

Something flashed over her face, and then she smiled. “Really?”

“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

“But what will your parents say when I walk in like this?”

“They’re leaving for work soon. And even if they’re still there, they won’t notice. They don’t notice much.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, maybe my mom would notice, but she’d be all nervous and extra friendly and tell you she liked your shirt. Even if she didn’t.”

Jasper looked down at the shirt and back up at me, “Be real,” she said. “Nobody could like this thing.”

I couldn’t help laughing at that. “Yeah, it’s pretty awful.”

“Hey . . . if you really mean it,” said Jasper, “I’d be super grateful.”

“Sure,” I said, feeling a rush, a thrill. I guess I hadn’t actually expected her to say yes. This was the most interesting thing that had happened all summer. All year. Maybe even longer than that. “Do you want me to help carry anything?”

“Oh, no, I can get it,” she said. She turned around and started scooping up her wet things, shoving all the clothes—wet and dry both—into a big red sweatshirt. Then she scooped the big laundry ball up in both arms. “But thanks!”

As I led the way home, down the creek bed, and held the kudzu back for Jasper and her armload of clothes, I had a thought. “Hey, Jasper—why didn’t you bring a laundry basket?”

She laughed into the pile of clothes. “Because I’m an idiot sometimes, that’s why!”

I laughed too. “Well, sure. Everyone is.”

Extra Real