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“Yeah, I’m not crying about it.”
He slapped my shoulder. “Catch you out front after school?”
I nodded and we went our separate ways, lining up with our individual classes. Remy was in fifth grade. Like me, he was the biggest kid in his class. The other kids seemed to either try to joke around with him or avoid him altogether.
As I returned to my classmates, I realized most of them were now ignoring me too.
Fine by me.
School bored me for the rest of the day. The teacher covered stuff my old school had already done months ago. I doodled little race cars on the paper in front of me. Funny—that was what Molly had all over her shirt. Not rainbows and unicorns like most little girls. Was it a hand-me-down from Remy or did she pick it out herself?
After the final bell rang, I grabbed my stuff and hurried downstairs and out into the afternoon sunshine. My gaze ran over the herd of kids scattering away from the school like mice trying to escape a trap. No sign of Remy.
“Dere’s Gwiff!” someone yelled behind me.
I turned and found Remy holding Molly’s hand as he led her down the steps.
“You waited,” Remy said. Had he been testing me?
“I said I would.”
“We’re down this way.” He jerked his head to the left.
It wasn’t the way I’d normally go home, but I could figure that out later.
Molly chattered about everything and anything the whole way to their house. Once in a while, she’d pause long enough for Remy to ask her a question.
“Will Mommy be up?” Molly asked.
“I don’t know,” Remy answered in a tone way too solemn for someone all the other kids seemed to fear.
It didn’t strike me as odd. My mom worked late nights and was rarely awake when I went to school in the morning. Sometimes she was still sleeping when I got home from school.
As we approached Remy’s house, a frail-looking woman in a long blue-and-white-flowered dress waved to us from the porch.
“Mommy!” Molly shouted, trying to tug her hand out of Remy’s grasp.
“Easy,” Remy said in a low voice.
Molly nodded eagerly, then ran to her mother, giving the painfully thin woman a cautious embrace.
I almost opened my mouth to ask what was wrong with his mom but thankfully swallowed the question.
Mrs. Holt smiled warmly at me. “Who’s your friend, Remy?”
“Dis is Gwiff!” Molly announced, jumping and pointing wildly in my direction.
“We met at lunch,” Remy explained, leaving out the humiliating details. “Griff just moved here.”
“Well, come in. Don’t be shy.” She shuffled slowly toward the front door, and Remy hurried to open it. “We’ve got snacks.”
Inside, Remy’s grandmother was in the kitchen, slicing apples. Molly had already pulled a stool close to the counter to help.
How often did Remy bring home strays? No one seemed surprised or bothered by my presence.
Mrs. Holt eventually left us to lie down, and her mother watched over us. Some time later, Remy’s grandfather showed up too.
“Do your grandparents live with you?” I asked. The only grandparent I’d known had been my mom’s father, and he’d lived with us for a while when I was younger. I still missed him.
