Wing Jones(51)

“What’s this? Wing acting like a proper granddaughter? Respecting her LaoLao?”

She’s grinning at me like the Cheshire cat as she sticks out her foot in its polka-dot sock. I pull off her sock. The foot beneath it is as fleshy and plump as the rest of her. I massage the arch, and she settles farther back in her chair, content for once.

Until she wags her other foot at me. “This one too, and more pressure.”

I roll my eyes but take her foot.

“LaoLao?” I say slowly, quietly.

“Mmm?” she says without opening her eyes.

“Do you think Marcus is going to wake up?”

She stills and is quiet for several long moments.

“I hope so,” she says, sounding unsure and young. Then her eyes fly open and she pins me with her gaze. “But even if he does not…”

I almost drop her foot. No one has ever admitted there is a chance he might not wake up.

“We will be OK. You will be OK. It will be hard.” She takes a long, quavering breath. “So hard. But we will be OK. It is … life. Life … is hard.”

I nod. I know.

She shakes her head as if shaking the conversation away and settles back into her chair.

“Other foot now,” she says, and I massage my grandmother’s feet in silence. I wonder if Marcus’s shattered leg hurts, if his body hurts. Can he feel anything in his deep slumber?

“Wing.” LaoLao’s voice startles me from my thoughts.

“Other foot?” I ask, reaching for it.

Instead, she draws her feet in and leans toward me. “I do not like working,” she says, slowly, “but for Marcus, it is nothing. For you too.” She watches me carefully. “I would work. And it would be nothing.”

I take her foot in my hands again, squeezing gently. I don’t want her to have to work anymore. I want her to stay home and rest her old, tired bones. She might say it’s nothing, but I know it’s everything.





CHAPTER 33


The phone ringing is like an alarm in our house. We all jump, stare at one another, each of us scared to pick it up in case it’s bad news. Bad news about Marcus. Bad news about the bank. Been a long time since anyone called our house with good news.

Which is why I’m so surprised when my mom tells me there’s someone on the phone for me. It’s Eliza.

“You got plans tonight?”

“Um, no. Why, do you want to go on a run or something?”

“Wing! Is running all you think about? Come on, girl.”

No, I also think about Marcus. And Aaron. And running. But I don’t tell Eliza that.

“We can hang out and not run, you know,” she goes on. “I’m good for other stuff too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m pretty hilarious. And you haven’t seen it yet, but I’m a hell of a dancer. And I play the piano.”

“I can’t play the piano,” I say apologetically. “And I’m not a very good dancer.”

“Well, we’ll see about that. I’m coming to get you and you’re coming over.”

“Over? Over where?”

“To my house! My parents are at my cousin’s wedding, so I’ve got the whole house to myself. I’m throwin’ a party. You’re invited.”

“A party?” A party can be a whole lot of different types of things. The last time I heard the word party, it was Trey’s party. It was the last party my brother went to. Possibly the last party he’ll ever go to. So the thought of going to a party doesn’t sound all that great to me.

“Yes, Wing. A party. But probably not like any kind of party you’ve ever been to before.”

My silence speaks for me.

“Wing, don’t worry. It isn’t that kind of party.”

That kind. The kind your brother went to. The kind where people get sloppy drunk and do things that ruin lives.

“Come on, Wing. It’ll be fun. I promise. I’ll pick you up in an hour? You can sleep over. All the rest of the girls on the team are coming.” She pauses, and then the rest of her words come out real fast. “And Annie is coming too. I want you to get to know her a little bit better.”

I think Annie is Eliza’s girlfriend, but I’m not sure. She comes and watches us run sometimes, cheers us on, and after practice she gets into Eliza’s blue car and they drive off together, laughing, always laughing, their heads close, Annie’s braids falling over Eliza’s shoulder. Annie goes to a different school, a fancy private high school. She’s black, about five inches shorter than Eliza and curvy, real curvy, and she’s got a laugh I can hear all the way around the track. She’s got a laugh you wish you could bottle up and wear like perfume whenever you’re feeling sad because it would always cheer you up. Eliza looks at Annie the way Marcus has been looking at Monica since the seventh grade. Friends don’t look at friends like that.

I wonder how I look at Aaron. If anyone can tell how I feel about him by the way I look at him.

I can’t say no to the party. I want to be part of the team and do what the other girls are doing. And it is nice, really nice, that Eliza wants me to get to know Annie. It’s like she cares about my opinion. Like she really does want to be my friend. And that kind of feeling is irresistible. I can’t say no to that kind of feeling.