Part 6 (2/2)
Twenty-nine.
Thirty.
Thirty-one- - And then rain.
Pouring down hard.
Zavion jumped off his stool.
All of a sudden, when his heart beat, it hurt.
The pain was unbearable.
- Ms. Cyn rushed to his side.
She made a soft, clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth.
”It was just the sprayer on the kitchen sink,” she whispered.
”Foolish of me.”
This time she was crying.
- Papa came in as Zavion began to knead again.
”This is a regular diner, all these people coming and going,” said Ms. Cyn. ”h.e.l.lo, Ben.”
”Any chance for some coffee?” Papa asked in his gravelly voice.
Ms. Cyn held up a mug. ”Yah, Ben. Right here.” She poured coffee from the metal carafe and handed it to him.
”Bless you,” he said. ”Move over, Zavion.” Papa sat on the stool as Zavion pushed the cutting board and bread dough out of the way and hopped up onto the counter.
”We have to figure out where were going,” said Papa.
Zavion sat the bread dough in his lap and squeezed it again. It rose up between his fingers like a mountain. He thought of Grandmother Mountain. Thats where they needed to be.
”We should go to a mountain.”
Papa reached up to tousle Zavions hair.
”Hey, are you getting paint in my hair?” Zavion asked, ducking out of the way. Papa had a slash of green paint across his hand. Leave it to Papa to somehow find a canvas when everything else was lost. ”So what about a mountain, Papa?” said Zavion. He wiggled his legs. He was going to have flour all over the seat of his pants.
”What about it?”
”Can we go there?” Zavion asked.
”What do you mean, there? Just find some mountain? And what-live in a cave?”
”Can we go to Grandmother Mountain? Like Mama promised?”
Zavion saw Papa flinch. It was a tiny movement, a small ripple under his eyes. ”Im thinking well go move near Gabe.”
”I dont know Gabe,” Zavion said, his heart sinking. He had only ever met his uncle once.
”Well, its high time you did know him, then, dont you think?” Papa said.
”You almost done with the breads, honey?” Ms. Cyn winked at Zavion.
”Almost,” he said.
”Youre making bread?” said Papa, raising his head.
”Hes good at it,” said Ms. Cyn.
”He cooks at home too-or, uh-cooked.” Papa paused. ”Ill bet hes good at it. Let me get out of here so you can finish.”
”But, Papa-”
”Zavions a responsible boy,” said Ms. Cyn. She put a hand on Zavions shoulder as she said boy, like she was reminding Papa of something.
”Hes a good boy.” Papa walked to the door. Then he turned back. ”Well figure this out, Zav.”
Zavion brushed flour off his pants and got back down onto the stool. He already had it figured out. They were going to Grandmother Mountain. That was the plan.
He kneaded the dough fourteen more times. There was that funny feeling again-like some creature crawling under his s.h.i.+rt. He pulled his hands out of the dough and scratched the base of his neck. ”I think Im done,” he said.
Ms. Cyn stretched a corner of the dough into a thin rectangle. ”Perfect,” she said. ”See that? The thin sheet? See how it doesnt break? That means its ready to rise. Youre a natural. Now break the dough into two sections and shape them into rounds,” said Ms. Cyn, handing Zavion a wooden paddle with a long handle. ”Put them on this, okay? Then all you do is wait and let them rise.”
Let them rise.
Zavion liked the sound of that.
chapter 16.
HENRY.
Henry sat at the base of the big pine tree behind his house. School was only just out, he figured, and he didnt want to go inside until Mom was back fom her errand.
Hed never cut before. Wayne had, and hed tried to get Henry to do it with him, but Henry had been too scared. Hed felt a funny feeling in his belly like he did on Valentines Day, the one holiday his dad sent him anything, a crazy-ton of candy that he always ate before breakfast. Just thinking about cutting made him feel that way, so he couldnt imagine what it would feel like to actually do it.
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