John Wesley followed, smiling, not seeming to care a new girl was in the house and holding a huge automatic gun in her hand. “Howdy,” he said. “My name’s John Wesley. That’s a real nice gun. Where you get it?”

“Sit down, kid,” the girl said. “Just how old are you?”

“Nine,” John Wesley said, beaming. “But I’ll be ten come this June. Where you’d get that gun? Looks like a .357 with a walnut grip. My Uncle Wayne has one just like it.”

The girl switched the big gun into her other hand and pulled a phone from her back pocket. She sure as hell was punching up some numbers before her eyes widened and her face lit up. “Wait,” she said. “Wait a hot damn second. I know you. Or at least two of you.”

“I doubt it,” TJ said.

“Yes, I do,” the girl said. “You’re her. Aren’t you? And that’s your black boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Ladarius said. “You got me. I’m the black one.”

“Y’all killed her mother?” the girl said. “Didn’t you? Cut her up and dropped her down in some redneck trash dump down in Mississippi.”

John Wesley stopped shuffling around and smiling. He turned to TJ while his face broke apart and his whole body shook, convulsing like she’d seen people do at that church they opened up in the old Hollywood Video. The kid started to speak but something caught in his throat. TJ got up and ran over to him, dropping down on her knees and hugging him tight.

“Go on,” TJ said, yelling at the girl. “Call the police. Do what you need to.”

“Did y’all do it?”

“Hush,” TJ said.

“Really?” the girl said. “I hate my damn stepmother so much my teeth ache. That woman must’ve done something awful for you to do what y’all did.”

John Wesley couldn’t take it anymore, standing tall and wiggling free of TJ, little fists balled up at his side. “That’s a lie! You’re a damn liar! My momma’s not dead! She went to Louisiana! You’re a bullshit liar!”

“We didn’t kill anyone,” Ladarius said. “Police wanted to put TJ in jail. Me, too. So we ran. Okay? That good with you?”

Holly hadn’t said a damn word since breaking her plate, getting down on her hands and knees cleaning up the mess she’d made. Now she was sitting back on her big haunches, looking up to this girl and back to TJ, not sure which one was more in charge. That was Holly, always looking for a damn leader.

“Please don’t call the police,” TJ said, pulling John Wesley close, who was now silently crying while glaring at the girl. “I can explain some things. And then we’ll leave.”