Little Peach by Peggy Kern Page A

right.”
    Baby hasn’t moved. She shoves her thumb in her mouth and turns on the TV. She looks angry.
    “What’s wrong with you?” Kat asks. “I thought you’d be happy. You the one who said you didn’t want to be the baby no more.”
    Baby shrugs and turns up the volume. “You’re lyin’. You can’t have a baby.”
    “Whatever. You better get used to the idea. You gonna have to help out.”
    Kat sparkles, her hands on her belly. Baby drags herself up and hugs Kat. “Congratulations. I guess.”
    Kat rubs her head. “Relax, kid. It ain’t comin’ for a while. You still the baby, okay? Maybe it’ll be a little girl. You can do her hair and dress her up, like you do with those dolls under your bed.”
    “Shut up,” Baby snaps. “I don’t play with those.”
    “You better get dressed. Boost’s on his way.”
    Kat brings me an outfit—her favorite white shirt, the one that drapes off the shoulder, and her plaid skirt. “I don’t need it no more. Take it.”
    She fusses with me, fiddles with my braids. “They startin’ to frizz. I’ll fix ’em tomorrow.”
    I’m happy for her, happy to think about a little tiny infant here with us. But part of me is jealous too. And maybe a little scared. Kat won’t be next door at theLitehouse anymore. I don’t wanna be there by myself, just me and Baby and the other girls I don’t know that well.
    When Boost arrives, she walks us to the door. “Be safe,” she says, her T-shirt loose and comfy, her sweatpants hanging easy on her hips. “I’ll be here when you get home.”
    The door to Devon’s room is shut tight. He’s in there alone, talking on the phone. And though I’m not sure why, I don’t want to leave her.
    “Daddy’s happy?” I ask.
    “Of course he is.”
    Baby takes my hand, pulls me out into the hall. Behind Devon’s door, music starts to thunder. Hard and loud.
    Like a fist.
    “Wake up.”
    Kat’s face shines at me, burning through the fog of sleep.
    “What time is it?” I ask.
    “It’s early. C’mon. I got a surprise for you.”
    She wakes Baby too. We dress quickly, tiptoe in thesilent apartment. Devon’s door is closed. She slips the key into the lock, leads us down the stairs into the daylight.
    “Where we goin’?” Baby whines. “Where’s Daddy?”
    “Hush,” she says, taking her hand. Baby’s still in her pajamas, me in Grandpa’s T-shirt and Daddy’s giant shorts.
    Kat trots down the street in her sneakers, her long hair bouncing. We head toward the ocean, turn left on Surf Avenue. It’s ten a.m. I glance around, looking for Boost or the little guy Fuse or anyone else wearing red.
    They’re not awake yet—only families, dragging kids with beach towels, and the subway station up ahead with people streaming out of it, pouring like water across the street. We mix with the crowd, with men and women and girls and boys and little kids in strollers. The yellow air is warm, the sun peeking up at us. Kat holds on to us, weaves us through the strangers. A woman with a child bumps Kat’s shoulder.
    “Excuse me,” she says.
    Kat steps aside, her face wide and welcoming. She smiles at the child. “Have fun,” she says, and the woman smiles back.
    We dive through the crowd, down Surf Avenue, until Kat halts us in front of the the amusement park.
    Baby stops, her face switching on like a lightbulb. “For real?!” she squeals. “But we ain’t supposed to be here. Daddy said.”
    “It’s okay. C’mon. We won’t stay long.”
    “But what if Daddy finds out—”
    “Don’t ruin this, Baby. You the one always complainin’ that you wanna go here. Now’s your chance.”
    Baby’s eyes shine up at the Ferris wheel. “But the cops. Daddy said—”
    “Ain’t nobody gonna take you, Baby. Look at all these people. Nobody even gonna notice you, unless you make a scene. So c’mon. We won’t stay long. We’ll be back before he even knows we’re gone.”
    Baby doesn’t move. She looks at me, then back at Kat. “I