Chapter 13

Devon was supposed to have moved across the hall then, but he never had. I could tell he was kind of scared to switch rooms—to sleep alone—so I didn’t push the idea. I just left things the way they were. We all still shared one bathroom, though. All seven of us, which often meant waiting.

“God designed men right,” I heard Julius tell Devon one morning. Then they’d stepped out of a literal queue and went outside, something I’d done myself once or ten times. Dad promised the second toilet soon. All he needed was the time—and the money—to make it happen.

“Just let us know when the dishes are ready to be dried,” I told Mama, partway up the stairs again.

“Don’t worry,” Mama said. “I will.”

Truth was she might not. Sometimes she just dried them herself. I was good either way, though after that one night a couple years earlier when I’d said “hell” and stomped out like a baby, I mostly made sure to get there before she did.