Also Known As Harper by Ann Haywood Leal

collector to come by and haul it away. I had never had a fire like Lorraine, but this seemed worse somehow. The fire had been an accident, but everything here had been on purpose, and it made me feel sick inside to see the bits and pieces of our life all torn up and scattered.
    Hem walked toward the back of the pile and pulled out our old ceramic towel rack from the bathroom. He ran his hand along the purple forget-me-nots I’d painted on one end. “How come they’re throwing away our stuff?”
    I thought about my green dresser with the daisy decals and I shook my head. “I think they were selling it.” I remembered Winnie Rae Early coming across the lawn with her Radio Flyer wagon and I wondered if she’d already had the price tags made out.
    All of a sudden, I was dog-tired, and the only thing I wanted to do was see Mama and sit down with my pen.
    Hem didn’t say much on the way home, which was good, because there was a poem writing itself out in my mind the whole way back.
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    Dear Flannery
    It’s a good thing you aren’t around
    To see this, Flannery.
    I’m glad you can’t see someone else
    Sitting around on our front porch
    And digging through our dirt pile.
    That would have been
    Your very own dirt pile in a couple of years.
    I would’ve helped you make roads with your fingers
    And haul water for the lakes
    In the middle.
    And when you got old enough,
    That green dresser with the daisy decals
    Would have been yours, too.

 
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Chapter Seventeen
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    WE WERE ONLY about five minutes away from the motel when Hem started up with his whining again. I just wanted to get back and work on my school plan, so I held tightly around his wrist and pulled him along behind me, trying to block out the sound.
    But when we got to the next bend in the road, he stopped dead still and seemed to bury his heels right into the asphalt.
    â€œCome on, Hem.” I pulled a little harder, but all it did was put him off-balance.
    He rocked forward and back on the balls of his feet a few times and dug his heels in hard. “I’m tired and my legs are done walking.”
    There was only one thing that would get him moving again. “It’s almost time to do your waiting,”I said. “It’s just about time to do your waiting for Daddy.”
    He shook his head, because he knew I was wrong. “I got three or four hours still.” His inside clock never failed. “Besides,” he said, “it’s even better to be out here. I can see all the cars that go by.” He kicked over a wide curve of old tire that had blown off a truck and sat down on it.
    It was big enough for the both of us, so I breathed out a long puff of air and sat down next to him. I had to admit, I was tired of walking, too. And my stomach was letting me know it was past lunchtime. I pulled the peanut-butter sandwich out of my backpack and unfolded the washcloth.
    â€œHere.” I handed the squished part to Hem, because I knew he wouldn’t notice. Sure enough, he pointed it in the direction of his mouth and took a bite.
    I was starting to wish for something to wash it down with when I saw her. The last person in the world I wanted to see standing in front of me.
    â€œNot in school again, I noticed.” Winnie Rae Early walked herself on over, without one hint of an invitation. “The school nurse has been calling yourhouse,” she said. “But I told Mrs. Rodriguez you’re not sick. You just don’t live there no more.”
    The thing was, I felt like I was sick right then. I was imagining Mrs. Rodriguez giving my desk away. Or emptying it out and putting it in the hallway, for the custodian to drag off.
    Winnie Rae kept right on talking, not stopping for any rest breaks. That’s what guilty people did, I’d noticed. They kept the words coming, so you didn’t get a chance to accuse them.
    â€œI got permission to ride the morning