All talk of developments stopped in my area after the Davidsons were murdered. Daddy and Mark Davidson had plans to build out here, but after the trial, no one’s touched it. This left Crowning with a long stretch of gravel roads, one rickety gas station, a market owned by a Vietnamese family, and the few migrant workers who stuck around after the farms dried out. We stayed out here because we can’t afford to move closer.

Forty minutes later, we park in front of Corinne’s school. She takes her sweet time getting out. She’s a mini version of Mama when it comes to being on her own schedule.

“Need help?” I motion so Corinne can see how easy it would be for me to unbuckle her jammed-up seat belt.

“I don’t need your help.” Corinne squints at me before fiddling her fingers so the latch releases and she can jump out of the car.

As she gets out, Mama gives her a once-over, studying her heart-shaped brown face before kissing her cheeks. Mama leaves a big red smudge of her lipstick. Corinne scrunches her face, acting like she don’t love the attention.

I should be more like them, enjoying these little moments. I can’t help myself. The pull of being on the move takes over. That rush to hurry, even if it’s to wait and do nothing. Jamal always walks Corinne to class if he’s dropping off, no matter how late we’re running.

Mama wraps her arms around us for a daily prayer. I bow my head. When she’s done, Mama takes off her hair wrap and presses her hands around her edges before checking for stray hairs as she smooths out her thick black hair. She steps into the sunlight, and her long dark brown legs send a shadow climbing up the sidewalk as she walks Corinne to the entrance. You can hear the screams of kids rushing to beat the bell.

“Can’t I go with you guys?” Corinne asks.

“Tracy’s going to school. You want to switch and have her homework?”

Mama’s threat works. Corinne throws her backpack over her shoulder and turns to school, but not before waving goodbye. I love her smile. My heart twinges at how much different her life is at that age from mine. When I was her age, Daddy took Jamal and me to the park down the street from our house every weekend. We used to earn points during the week so we could pick out ice cream when the truck would ride by in the afternoon. We never asked for money ’cause he didn’t have much to spare, so those times were everything to us. I even miss those empty threats of spankings when we were awful. Corinne will never know what it was like to have Daddy home. All she’s known is Daddy locked up.