Munmun(13)

“No, he’s got a good point,” agreed Paddy.

“Mister Paddy, I’ll be honest,” I said. “How do you suggest we even get an education? They don’t make schools for littlepoors.”

“Well,” he said, and then he was quiet for a while.

“Well, can you read,” he asked finally.

“Nope,” I said.

He glanced at Prayer.

“No,” said Prayer all ashamed.

“Dang,” said Paddy.

“I c cc can,” said Usher.

“And you’ve got the palsy,” said Paddy. “I was wondering, why don’t the gray one speak. Dang, dang, dang. Three of the littlest littlepoors you could find and two can’t read, third’s got the stuttershakes. Wow and dang. God help you kids. You know it won’t be easy out there. Where do you even sleep?”

“Right now we sleep in the car,” I said.

“Wow and dang,” he said again.

“We’re actually pretty happy to have a car to sleep in these days,” I said.

“Beep,” said the car, battfull.

He lowered us into the car onebyone, hands a little sloppy from chipgrease.

“Thank you onceagain for the juice, water, food, wisdom, advice ingeneral,” said Prayer. “Allinall, we don’t get a lot of kindnesses from people, so, we really appreciate it.”

He twisted up his mouth again like he was in pain.

“Well, uh,” he said. “Well, nevermind. Nevermind.”

But we waited for him to stop neverminding.

“Well,” he said, “what I mean to say is, uh, and just for a night, or two, but uh, you need a safe place to park while you sleep, you can park it out back of the stand.”

“Ohmygod, thank you,” cried Prayer.

“Just let me know beforehand, okay,” he said. “And just you three. Don’t be bringing other littles to my stand now.”

“Ofcourse ofcourse, just us,” she said, Usher and I nodded like maniacs.

“Don’t even tell anyone because the moment poors start thinking I’m soft and forming a charity line in front of my stand, scaring away business, that’s the moment Quickstand takes this stand away from me, allright,” he told us.

“Nope nope nope won’t bring anyone,” said Prayer.

“And you’d better believe if I catch a whiff of you burning weeds or rocks, just one whiff, you’re the cops’s problem and not mine anymore, you got that,” he said.

“Dd d dd dDefinitely y not,” yelled Usher, surprising everyone into shutting up.

“Just a couple nights,” said Paddy.

So we slept that night in the car under Paddy’s recycling, and the next night too, and actually for a few months that was our home. Usher and me slept downstairs and Prayer slept up in the cranepod. We used the car only for shelter, went everywhere onfoot, didn’t want to risk riding around and then some grumpy middlepoor yanks us out and rides off, and then no more bedhouse for Team Prayer Usher Warner.

Each day had the same shape.

Step One, Paddy wakes us up, gives us crumbs of his breakfast, talks at us for pretty long about people and time and governments and churches and basically just what everything is like and wouldn’t you love to change it, well toobad, you can’t change people and that’s just the end of it.

Step Two, we commute as a squad to the lecturehall and everybody goes to work. You can sit for free in lecturehall and they just call you an odditor. So, Usher, he just does odditing the whole day, list list listening, memorizing ideas and laws, squinting at the board which unless he gets a weirdly good seat he can’t really see it, also healing up his ribs by not moving very much.

Prayer, she rambles around asking for carries up and down the stairs to class or hangs out on studydesks and lunchtables looking daydreamy, playing with her hair, examining her nails, hoping someone will start a convo with this cute lonely dreamer.

Me, I try random schemes to earn munmun, all failures. Do littletasks for people, collect trash to sell, woo law school women like Prayer woos law school men. No luck.

Step Three, we meet at five near the doors and commute home as a squad and Paddy usually gives us a little dinner, otherwise every law school trash has pizzarinds.

Step Four, sleep and dream.





DREAMWORLD


So, yes, I thought for a few days if Prayer can trap a middlerich husband maybe I can trap a middlerich wife, because my face and body are not so bad. I’m littlepoor strong, meaning ropey arms and shoulders from climbing everything all the time, plus no scars sores or blisters on my face, cherrywine skin not too different from Prayer’s, maybe a little more orange, but better thicker hair, and save the best for last, all my teeth are still in there.

But it doesn’t matter how good teeth and hair you have, or how fast you can climb a chair. Law school women are not excited to marry a fourteenyearold littlepoor. At lecturehall mostly we talked about what was I even doing there.

“I just chill here at times,” I would say.

“So you don’t have like classes to go to or anything,” law school women would say.

“I could go to the class of you,” I would say. “Today’s lecture, how to love you, or you could even just teach me how to read.”

“We’re a little busy and stressedout for that,” they would say.