Pieces of Why by K. L. Going

from me for all these years.
    And I hated her and loved her for it all at once.

CHAPTER 17
    I F I COULD have gone back home, I would have, but I couldn’t hurt Keisha’s feelings. Not after ignoring her for a week. So instead, I went with her family, walking along the River Walk to the French Quarter. Street performers entertained the crowds, and saxophone players lifted up jazz melodies over the bend in the Mississippi River. Dwayne hovered nearby, letting me push Jerome in the stroller, and Ms. Evette asked if I was all right every five minutes.
    By the time we got to Café Du Monde for our beignets I would’ve given everything I owned to disappear. What if Loretta was right? I’d already lost my music and lied to my mother. Maybe without my singing, I
would
become disturbed.
    â€œHello? Earth to Tia.” Keisha pulled at my sleeve, handing me a tray for my beignets.
    â€œHuh?”
    I followed her and Dwayne to the outdoor table whereMs. Evette and Loretta sat laughing. A trumpet player set up his station outside and began to play. While everyone else ate, I closed my eyes and pictured the notes, dancing through the night sky.
    â€œHey, Tia.” Keisha nudged me with her elbow and I had to fight my way up for air. She pointed across the street to Jackson Square. “Look. It’s Kenny.” We hadn’t seen him since before June Fest. “Want to go talk to him?”
    Loretta and Ms. Evette glanced from me to Keisha.
    â€œIs that your boyfriend?” Loretta asked. I could just imagine what she was thinking.
    Twelve ye
ars old and already
she’s wild.
    â€œHe’s not her boyfriend . . . yet,” Keisha corrected. “Can we go say hi? Please?”
    Ms. Evette frowned. “I’ll walk over with you,” she said, but Loretta gave her the eye.
    â€œThey’re old enough to cross the street on their own, Ettie,” she scolded. “They don’t want you hanging around while they talk to a boy. Right, girls?”
    Keisha grinned. “Isn’t my aunt the best?”
    I didn’t answer. Ms. Evette looked over at Dwayne, but he just shook his head. “Don’t look at me,” he said. “If I had my way, these girls wouldn’t talk to a boy until they turned thirty.”
    Keisha rolled her eyes, then dragged me out of my chair. “Let’s go.”
    We ran across the street, dodging the flower-covered horse-and-carriages lined up to carry tourists around the quarter. Then we wound our way through the displays of art for sale. When we’d nearly caught up to Kenny, Keisha hollered, waving like mad.
    â€œKenny! Hey Kenny!” She laughed at my mortified stare. “Sometimes you gotta do things quick,” she whispered, “like pulling off a Band-Aid.”
    Kenny’s family stopped a few paces ahead of us, and his mother glared, but Kenny jogged forward.
    â€œHi,” he said, “w-what are you guys doing here?”
    He was asking both of us, but looking right at me. Keisha nudged my shoulder so I’d answer.
    â€œGetting beignets,” I said, wondering how a factual statement could come out sounding so dumb.
    â€œOh,” Kenny said. “I’m g-glad to see you.”
    I shuffled awkwardly. “Me too.”
    There was a moment of silence while Keisha pretended to study something in the distance.
    â€œSo . . . how come you weren’t at June Fest?” I asked at last. “You’re not quitting choir, are you?” That sounded desperate, and I wished I’d said something else.
    Anything else.
    Kenny smiled. “No,” he said. “I was on v-v-v—” He got stuck on the sound and struggled to force it out.
    â€œVacation?” Keisha supplied.
    â€œYeah,” Kenny said.
    â€œSo you’ll be back?”
    Kenny nodded. “On Thursday.” He paused. “Why? Did you m-miss me?”
    I
had
missed him. It felt so good to see him