Also Known As Harper by Ann Haywood Leal Page B

“I tried to save them all for you, but Mama would’ve noticed. The dresser wouldn’t have looked right with them all peeled off.”
    She held her hands out until I took the decals from her. “I knew how much you liked it.”
    I almost never had trouble thinking up words for Winnie Rae Early, but my mind was having a hard time with this one. A nasty Winnie Rae was a loteasier to deal with. And her eyebrows were raised up as if she was surprised by her own words.
    But then Hem took my mind and my feet in another direction. He was up and waving his arms over his head at a white pickup. And he was a good three feet into the street.
    â€œHem!” I grabbed him tight around the middle and pulled him back to the side of the road. I could feel my pulse thudding on the roof of my mouth and a tingly buzzing inside my ears.
    â€œHe’s slowing down!” Hem tried to wrestle himself free, but this time it was me digging my feet into the asphalt.
    I had to admit, Hem had a pretty good eye. That truck was the spitting image of Daddy’s. Except there was a lady driving it. And she was not the least bit smiling as she slowed down and unrolled her window.
    She jabbed her finger in the air in our direction. “What’s wrong with you kids? It’s a good thing I was paying attention, or I could’ve mowed you right down!”
    I didn’t have a whole lot to say to that, and, luckily, neither did Hemingway. His body had gone kind of limp, and he was studying the dirt by his feet as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.
    I hugged him close to me and kissed the side of his face. Breathing in his sweaty, Hemingway smell made my heart start to slow back down to normal.
    The woman shook her head and mentioned something about school as she was rolling her window back up.
    As I watched the woman drive off, I noticed Winnie Rae had taken the opportunity to hightail it out of there. She was a good twenty yards down the road toward the motel.
    I shook my head and got a tighter grip on Hem’s hand. I bent down so my eyes were staring in the dead centers of his. “Listen here, Hemingway.”
    He must have heard something sharper in my voice, because he didn’t look away. Not for even one second.
    â€œMama put me in charge of you, and you’re going to have to stick close by. You hear?”
    He nodded slowly.
    â€œI know you got more sense than to be running out in front of cars,” I said. “Mama taught you that back when you were about two years old.”
    â€œBut Daddy . . .” He pointed toward the street.
    â€œThat wasn’t Daddy.” I squeezed his wrist so he’dbe sure to listen. “I don’t want to talk about Daddy for a while, you hear?”
    He looked confused, but he nodded.
    â€œI don’t want to be thinking or talking about Daddy for the rest of today. Maybe longer.” I said it loudly, so I’d remember it, myself.
    â€œCome on,” I said. “Let’s go back and see if we can find Randall. Maybe we can do some more reading in that book of his.”
    He didn’t answer, but I felt him give my hand a little bit of a squeeze.
    I thought about Mama out front of our old house, bone-tired, trying to sort through everything we owned. There was no way I was going to tell her about my dresser or any part of the Earlys’ yard sale. I just couldn’t. Mama had way too much to worry about already. I wanted to take some of that worry away and give it to Mrs. Early or Winnie Rae. Let them know what it was like, for once.
    I pulled Hem farther off the road. It was harder to walk on all the loose dirt and sharp little rocks, but I wasn’t taking any chances on him darting out into traffic again.
    â€œSomeone’s cooking breakfast.” Hem pointed thetip of his nose up at the sky and took a snorty breath. “Sausages, maybe.”
    I glanced off to our left, but there wasn’t much to