No Place to Fall by Jaye Robin Brown Page A

glance in his direction. Will’s all focused on Mrs. Early. I’d even venture to say he looks excited. For some reason, seeing his face so open, like he’s waiting to be filled, fills me with happiness. Like I don’t care if he knew what I was up to this summer, or if the moment between us never happens again. Because what I care about is singing, and I liked singing with Will.
    Mrs. Early passes out sheet music. The song they’ve been working on is called “Shenandoah.”
    I figured school chorus would be an extension of church music, but I can already tell that I was wrong. The song is hard. So is working with a group of kids all trying to sing together. But Mrs. Early is good at what she does, and by halfway through the hour and a half, we’re at least all coming in on the right parts.
    After chorus is over, I rush out of the room. It’s Will’s voice I couldn’t stop hearing over the others’ in there. Will I imagined singing with onstage. I’ve got to get him out of my head.
    Outside, on the circle, a car horn honks.
    I look. Whitney’s there in her dented Chevy Cavalier. Coby’s sleeping in his car seat.
    I slide into the front.
    â€œYou dating that guy?” she asks me.
    â€œWhat? Who?”
    â€œThat one.” She points.
    I look over to see Will standing on the curb, waving his sheet music at me.
    â€œ No .” I say it too quickly.
    Whitney smiles. Even under her new pallor of popping pills and stress, my sister is still beautiful to me. “Too bad.He’s hot.” She starts the car. “You know, I gave you all those old clothes of mine. You ought to work it more. You are pretty.”
    â€œThanks.” It feels good to hear Whitney say it, even if I don’t always believe I am, compared to her.
    Whitney drives down Main Street and turns on Reserve Road.
    Maybe she’s visiting a friend. Or maybe she’s picking up something for Coby. But everyone in town knows Reserve Road is a hangout for users. “Where are we going?” I try to keep the panic out of my voice.
    Coby wakes up in his car seat and starts fussing.
    â€œJust give him his sippy cup and don’t worry about what I’m doing.”
    â€œWhitney, they’ll revoke your bond if you get caught dealing. Mama and Daddy had to put a lien on the house to get you out.”
    Whitney pulls up to a dirty white trailer in Reservoir Hills. An old trampoline frame stands guard next to a Toyota truck up on blocks, its tires long gone. I hear the yapping of small dogs.
    â€œLook.” She turns toward me, eyes exhausted. “I need to do this. Sammy needs the money.”
    My sister is out of the car before I can ask why. Sheglances around, then climbs the rickety wooden steps. Her long hair is tied up, and her T-shirt hangs out over old sweatpants.
    The door cracks and I see a weathered, dark-haired woman peek her head out. Whitney disappears into the trailer.
    The apple juice is perking Coby up and I’m torn between making faces at him and keeping an eye on the door Whitney vanished behind. I look around for the law. They cruise this place regularly. I know because Frog lives over here and he tells stories. And the sheriff is bound to know Whitney and Sammy’s car now.
    Finally, Whitney reappears, tucking bills into her shirt.
    She gets in the car and turns around. “Hey, baby boy.”
    Coby reaches out his hands to his mama and Whitney leans over and grabs them, kissing his fingers.
    How can she do this? How can she think that she can sell pills, get caught, and still keep selling pills, and not have Coby taken away from her?
    â€œI’ve got to run to the store. Sammy needs a six-pack and Coby needs diapers.” Whitney’s voice is I’ve-got-a-bra-full-of-cash bright.
    It’s out before I stop myself. “That’s what Sammy needs the money for? Beer?” I slam my hand against the dashboard. “Are you an