Last Summer with Maizon by Jacqueline Woodson Page A

was still new to him and he was constantly following whoever let him.
    â€œMargaret, what’d I tell you about messing with your hair?”
    Margaret started to speak but her father caught her eye and winked.
    â€œI was just telling her to look after you two while I’m gone,” he said.
    â€œAnd who’s going to look after Margaret?” her mother teased.
    â€œJay!” Li’l Jay shouted, throwing his bottle across the floor.
    They laughed.
    â€œDaddy, will you be home for the block party?”
    Her father scooped her up the way he had done when she was young and swung her toward the ceiling.
    Margaret laughed and punched his shoulders.
    â€œBlock party! Hah!” He sat her down gently and hugged her. “We’re going to have a Tory family reunion!”
    â€œYay!” Li’l Jay said, spinning in a circle and hurling himself onto the floor. He giggled and sat up.
    She watched from the window as her mother helped her father into a cab, then climbed in beside him. The car crawled slowly down the empty street, signaled once, then turned the corner.
    â€œDaddy ...” she said, realizing he hadn’t answered her question. “Good-bye, Daddy.” Margaret hated the way the words sounded in the now quiet apartment.
    â€œLi’l Jay!” she yelled.
    â€œJay,” he repeated, toddling into the living room with a pan in his hand. The feet of his baggy pajamas dragged behind him.
    â€œWhen Maizon gets here, you’re going to bed,” Margaret warned. “No crying, either.”
    â€œMaizon!” Jay repeated, banging the pot against the hardwood floor.
    â€œBed,” Margaret said, turning back to the window and pressing her hands to her ears. A hot breeze blew in over his noise.
    â€œMan, it’s hot tonight!” She pulled her shirt away from her chest and blew down onto her skin. Where was Maizon, anyway? “Li’l Jay, stop that noise!”
    The room fell silent. Margaret turned to Li’l Jay. His bottom lip quivered.
    â€œOh, Jay,” she said, lifting him into her arms. “I’m sorry.” She carried him over to the window. The pot clattered to the floor.
    They sat on the radiator and stared out past the brownstones at the bridge. Past the lights, Manhattan loomed up dark and shadowy in the distance. The train rumbled by slowly and Li’l Jay began to whine.
    â€œSounds like it’s in pain, doesn’t it?” Margaret whispered. Li’l Jay pressed his head against her shoulder. “Probably creeping across that bridge for the millionth time.”
    â€œTwain,” Li’l Jay said, drifting off to sleep.
    Margaret stared out into the growing night for a long time.
    â€œYou look like Mary and Baby Jesus,” Maizon yelled up. Li’l Jay started but didn’t wake up.
    â€œIt’s about time!” Margaret yelled back. In the near-darkness she could only make out Maizon’s Afro and dark dress. She carried Li’l Jay to his crib, then ran to hide her diary.
    â€œWhat’d you do to your hair? It’s scary,” Maizon said when Margaret opened the door.
    â€œMe?! Your grandmother’s going to skin you alive when she finds out you left the house looking like that,” Margaret said. “And with her makeup and earrings too? Maizon, I know you’ve lost your mind!”
    Maizon smiled and sauntered past her. She wore a red and black dress with a black and a red pocket on either side and a red tie at the collar. Her messy Afro looked strange against the two red circles she had blushed onto her cheeks. Huge gold-hoop earrings dragged down her ear-lobes and her black eyeliner was crooked.
    She turned to give Margaret a better look and smiled, showing off.
    â€œMargaret ... Margaret ... Margaret ...” Maizon said, dragging out the name in a phony, grown-up tone. “Are you so corny that you don’t know this is what everybody’s wearing in the