“Yes, ma’am,” I said because I was unsure of what else to say.

“Ma’am,” she snorted. “Ma’am. How polite you are. That just won’t do. My name is Theresa Jean Paquinn, and you may call me Mrs. Paquinn.”

“Yes, Mrs. Paquinn.”

“Now, boy, the next step would be for you to tell me your name.”

I thought for a fleeting moment about how I wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers, but surely they didn’t mean her? She was an old lady! What harm could she do?

“Tyson,” I told her. “Tyson McKenna. But everyone calls me Kid.”

“What a handsome name! Tyson. I do like that. Why aren’t you in school?”

I was starting to sweat because the box was heavy, but she was nice, so I thought I should answer her question. “I only go in the mornings. Next year, I’ll go all day. Like my brother. He’s about to graduate.” And take me with him.

She smiled at me. “You’re well-spoken for being so young.”

“I like to read,” I said by way of explanation.

“Do you? I do too. There’s nothing more wonderful, I should think, aside from meeting new people.”

“Heavy,” I gasped.

She laughed. For the first time, I heard her laugh, and I thought it possibly the most wonderful sound I’d ever heard. “Forgive me,” she said. “Here I am blathering away like we’ve got all the time in the world.” She set her purse on the floor and took the box from me. “Be a dear, would you? The keys are in my purse, and one of them unlocks the door to my new abode that undoubtedly will put all my past dwellings to shame.”

“My brother says this place is a hole,” I told her as I looked for her keys. I found them, buried under packages of tissues and hard candies and what I was pretty sure was a switchblade.

“And it probably is,” she said. “Your brother sounds very smart.”

“Sometimes.” I pulled the keys out. “Where to?”

“That one,” she said, pointing the box toward a door.

That delighted me. “You’re going to live there? I live next door.”

“Do you? With your brother?”

“Yeah. And my mom. She’s… sleeping now.”

I unlocked the door for her and pushed it open. The air inside smelled of carpet cleaner and dust. She set the box on the carpet inside the doorway. She looked around the small apartment, and for a moment, a fleeting look of sadness crossed her face and she sighed.

“It will be okay,” I told her with the logic only five-year-olds have. “It’s not so bad. I can help you do stuff. If you need it.”

“And that is the best thing I’ve heard all day,” she said. “You truly are a gentleman, Tyson.”

“Do you need some help? With the rest of your stuff?”

“I don’t have much.”

“Neither do we.”

“I have some boxes in the car. The bigger stuff will come tonight, I think. I would appreciate the help. We should probably speak to your mother first, though. I wouldn’t want you getting into trouble.”