"Sure," I finally said, remembering that Luke was waiting for an answer. "I'll let you know when it's a good time, okay?"
"Right sure," he said, immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, by the way. Gideon was a good guy."
I couldn't remember ever telling Luke Keely I was friends with Gideon King, but it was a small town. He probably knew way more about me than I wanted him to.
At that, another harried looking parent showed up at my door. Soon my classroom was filling up. Lisbeth, my student teacher showed up right in time to help little kindergartners with giant book bags shrug out of their winter coats and direct muddy boots towards the cubbies.
Outside in the hall, a close knot of solemn looking women in long denim skirts floated past.
Dee, whose classroom was next to mine, appeared in my doorway with a mug of coffee and wide eyes. "You see that?" she stage-whispered, pointing down the hallways.
I leaned out into the hall, unable to keep from staring. The women were all wearing the signature dark, homesewn looking clothes that marked them as part of the breakaway religious sect. "God's Chosen in public schools." I shook my head. "Wow. The district must have caught up with them."
"Their bogus 'homeschooling program' must not have passed state requirements," Dee sniffed. We watched as a few solemn children separated from the equally solemn adults. There was none of the usual bluster and tears from the mothers. I recognized the two hands on the shoulders blessing from running into the Chosen around town. Their community clung to the south end of Crown Creek, on land donated by a rich farmer who'd fallen under the sway of their leader. It was a sad cluster of houses that couldn't possibly be up to code.
But the sight of Chosen was not too surprising, not around town anyway. What was surprising was seeing them here in the schools. "Wonder if the new school board stopped taking the bribes?"
"Dr. Schneider is a stickler and I doubt the threat of eternal damnation is enough to keep her off getting kids an education." I liked our new board director. With her straight across bangs and diminutive stature, she looked more like a high schooler than someone in charge of the high school and I think she relished the startled reaction people gave her when she spoke up. I could only imagine the hell she'd given the Chosen's fussy elders. "Seriously though, they didn't think to tell us? What are we going to do with these kids?"
"I only see five. Hopefully that's it."
"I know. They are not going to fit in. It's going to be tough."
Dee glanced at me. "You doing okay? I'm sorry I couldn't come to the funeral, Kayleigh was throwing up."
"Oh no, again?"
"This place is a petri dish. She's been sick since she started." Dee's daughter was in the other kindergarten class. "I'm just waiting for my turn." She ran her hand down her belly. "Stomach flu is my diet plan these days," she grinned, lifting her shirt to reveal a thin line of toned tummy. Dee was a demon runner.
"Don't let them see you," I whispered, glancing at the knot of Chosen women who were hanging in the hallway, seemingly uncertain about leaving their kids in our heretical care. I lifted my fingers in a tentative wave and was rewarded with tight, cramped smiles. "Your belly is totally sinful. They're gonna pray for your soul," I whispered to Dee.
"Good, I need all the help I can get," Dee grinned. She put her hand on my shoulder. "Gid was an awesome guy. Have you listened to the tapes yet?"
I knew what she meant but I shook my head. "Not since - " I trailed off and blinked, my eyes suddenly filling.
"Of course. Yeah not since he -"
"Right."
"I'm glad he gave them to you though. When you're ready, you can hear him singing any time you want. Pretty cool he wanted to pass his recordings on to you."
I nodded, but the same niggling feeling I'd had since he handed me the box tickled at my brain again. When Gideon had handed me the box full of old tapes and demos, I asked him point blank why he wasn't giving these to his nephews. He'd laughed it off, saying that he could jam with them any time. Make new music just as soon as they got home.
They hadn't come home quick enough. And now the only thing left of his music was in a box in my living room. He'd given it to me, but it felt wrong to hold on to it now that he was gone. But it also felt wrong to bring it over to the Kings. I felt protective, wanting to curl myself over that cardboard box and shield the remnants of Gid left in the world. What if the Kings didn't want it? Or worse, what if they didn't appreciate it the way they should?
I found myself wishing like hell I could run up to the music room and ask Gideon what he thought. He would know the right thing to do, for sure.
Chapter Five
Jonah
I was lying on my too short old bed, scrolling angrily through my phone, reading the reviews of my performance at the Hullabaloo festival in Texas. The critics and bloggers were really falling all over themselves to pile on me while I was down, and I had the perverse drive to read every hastily written take, just so I could go out tomorrow and prove them all wrong. I wasn't used to feeling embarrassed about a show. Panic was licking at the edges of my consciousness, egging me on to go do something. To work harder. To fix this.
"Knock knock!" my mother said softly as she knocked on the half-shut door to my bedroom. And kept knocking on it until the door was all the way open.
Some little bit of leftover muscle memory made me shove the phone back under my pillow, as if she was catching me do something illicit. I relaxed almost as quickly, and leaped to my feet. "Really?" I said, more pleased than I was letting on. "I was going to get that." Then I did a double take. "You folded my underwear too?"
"Nothing I haven't seen before," my mom said with a grin. "You like to forget I wiped your little tushie."
I took the laundry from my mother's hands. It still smelled the same. I tried to keep from inhaling the scent of her detergent into my lungs and then holding my breath forever. It had been a while since someone last took care of me without asking for money in return. "Thanks Mom."
She nodded and brushed her hands off down the front of her sweater. "Well of course." She wrinkled her nose. "I wasn't sure if you even knew how to do laundry."
I laughed. "I would have figured it out. I'm not as helpless as people think I am."
"I know," she said gently. "You're a hard worker, Jojo."
I smiled, feeling like she'd given me something I didn't know I needed. "Thanks." I turned and set the folded laundry directly into my open suitcase.
My mom's eyes followed me. "You're not staying?" she asked, wistful hope hanging around her words, clinging like the smell of fabric softener to my freshly laundered clothes.
I stood back up and let out a deep breath. "Mom, I can't."
"I know," she said quickly, lowering her eyes.
"My manager is going to want me in New York," I pressed. "We're supposed to be working on a guest list for the new album. Some new vocalists and stuff -" I trailed off, the checklist growing ever longer in my head.