Page 11 of Full Circle

“Kiddo, it’s about time you returned home to your aunt Shirley,” Marla interrupted us.

A glance out the window told me the sun had set, meaning it was close to nine pm and The Comfy Cushion was about to close. We spent another afternoon doing nothing but talking. When had I ever talked that much to anyone, let alone a boy?

“I’m sure you’ve gotta get up for school tomorrow, too,” she prompted again when neither of us moved.

Ever since Mama’s death, I had struggled to remember the days of the week. It was hard to keep track when they all blended together from the blur of grief. I hadn’t been back to school since it happened; Marla and Daddy had worked something out with the principal, who was an old friend of Daddy’s, to let me finish up the year with a home school program. As long as I had all the work turned in by July 1st, I would be allowed to progress to seventh grade.

Wesley’s ears reddened again and he became fascinated with his shoelaces. “I’m actually not going to school yet,” he admitted quietly.

Marla’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

He glanced up at me with a face pleading for a way out of the conversation, but I was just as curious. Did rich kids not have to go to school either? Was that a thing?

Finally, Wesley sighed in defeat. “I got kicked out of all my other schools for fighting and there’s an issue with my transcripts not being completed.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but the embarrassment still lingered on his face at the admission.

“Transcripts not being completed? Like you’re missing a few credits?” Marla asked. Her lips were starting to purse again and my hackles rose in his defense.

“I can help you,” I offered. “I’m not in school right now either, but I have workbooks and things I have to turn in to finish all my credits for the year. We can do it all together.”

Wesley’s blue eyes flooded with hope. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

His smile lit up his face. “Best friends,” he affirmed.

Marla smiled at the exchange between the two of us. “Looks like you’re finally gonna get some work done yourself, Celeste,” she commented playfully. She knew I hadn’t touched any of the work the school sent home with Daddy.

“It might be kind of distracting for me to work on school stuff here…” Wesley’s voice faded off in uncertainty.

My mom’s best friend shook her head firmly. “Oh no, y’all’ll work at Celeste’s house. Nana can keep on eye on y’all.” She began wiping down the counter tops and resetting the clean drinking glasses as if the matter was settled.

I, however, groaned. “Not Nana!”

CHAPTER 5

A SCHOOL MARM FROM HELL

WESLEY

Aunt Shirley whole-heartedly approved of the plan to work on my missing school credits at Celeste’s house under the watchful eye of her grandmother. Ms. Suzanne Moffitt, otherwise known as Celeste’s nana, was not someone to be trifled with, Shirley warned me as she glided her sleek Oldsmobile down the county highway to the Hendricks’ property.

This part of Georgia was unlike anything back home. Trees stretched towards the sun like skyscrapers, competing with one another to spread their thick branches. The earth was red from a clay-like dirt that Aunt Shirley said was great for growing crops. Periodic pools of green, swamp-like water dotted in between the vegetation, and she cautioned me more than once to be wary of the water because we weren’t too far north for gators to build their homes.

Celeste’s house was nestled behind a thick tree line with a dirt driveway. The house was a single story with a giant wrap around porch, perfect for shade in long afternoons spent in rocking chairs, according to Aunt Shirley. Flowers were everywhere around the outside; fat begonia bushes with bright pink blossoms and thick foxgloves towered along the porch railing. A yard was cleared around the house, although an enormous flowering dogwood tree reigned over everything on the righthand side. The lowest branch was wider than a grown man’s torso and sported an old tire swing. The dirt drive swung around the house to the left where other outbuildings were visible.

Aunt Shirley said the property had been in the Hendricks family for generations. I didn’t doubt that because why would anyone want to leave a place like this? It looked like a slice of heaven.

Celeste was waiting for me in a rocking chair by the front door. She gave her usual shy smile as Aunt Shirley and I climbed the porch steps. It was then that I noticed a figure behind the screen door. The door popped open with a snap and it had to be Celeste’s nana who stepped out.

Her nana wasn’t much bigger than poor Aunt Shirley, but her features were far more severe. She glared down her nose at me, although I was just a fraction of an inch taller than her. Her petite frame was swallowed up in an oversized t-shirt bearing The Comfy Cushion logo and sweatpants that must have been blistering once the heat set in for the day. She eyed me up and down like I was the devil incarnate, and for once I wondered if maybe in fact I was.

“You’ll call me ‘Ms. Suzanne’ or ‘ma’am,’ you got that?” she snapped at me. The burn from her gaze made me leery.

Aunt Shirley gave me a gentle push to acknowledge what was said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’ll stay outta the living room,” Ms. Suzanne continued. “I like my shows and there’s no need for you to be interrupting me.”

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