Morning light filtered through the blinds. Much to Munch’s dismay morning had arrived. His whole body hurt from spending another night sleeping on the floor in his sleeping bag. All around him in the rummage room were stacks of fabric. Grandma Toady had a nice sewing machine and her quilt work was excellent. She had been the one who taught Munch how to sew in the first place. It was one of the reasons he loved her so much.

From the kitchen he heard Grandma Toady’s belt out, “RISE and Shine and give God the glory, glory...” Grandma Toady could not sing, but it never seemed to stop her. How he wished it did. She was frying eggs. When Mitzi was with her mom or her dad of a morning, Grandma Toady made fried eggs. Honestly he was sick of fried eggs and regular food. He missed the way his mama cooked. All Vegetarian All Healthy. All the Time. He missed his mama. By now she was on a plane headed home with THAT MAN. Aunt Jessie was driving to Hobby Airport to pick them up. They had gone to sun island called Saint Martin’s. He had never heard of it. Inside of him his heart was a tangle. There was joy because Mama was coming home, mixed with his fear of being in second place. It couldn’t be healthy to want to be first in everything, but that was just the way he was.

He got up and went to THAT MAN’s closet. The poor bastard didn’t have a bit of style. Munch honestly didn’t know what his mother saw in him. His dad had been such a sharp dresser and when he wore his chopper pilot uniform, he was spectacular. As Munch moved his fingers across the hangers of the clothes he had brought from home, his hand slipped at the end and landed on the bars of an army jacket. So this is what HE wore when he was in the service. Munch pulled the jacket out. It was frayed and had seen hard use. All of his father’s uniforms had been crisp and dry cleaned. He doubted this jacket ever entered a dry cleaner. Munch knew his own dad had been a helicopter pilot, but what had Lolly’s dad been? In all the years he and Lolly had been best friends, he had never asked what her dad did when he was in Vietnam. The question haunted him. He shoved the jacket back into place and reached for his black slacks,black turtle neck and black oxfords. This morning he was feeling dark and moody.

When he stepped out into the hall, he saw Lolly’s bedroom door was open. She was still in her robe, trying to figure out what to wear to school that day. It must be terrible to have no fashion sense or fashion confidence. Lolly had definitely inherited that from her dad. He walked into her room and asked, “You need some help.?”

She turned a little pink and asked, “Don’t I always? When Mitzi’s not here to help me pick out clothes I struggle.”

“You need to learn to trust your instincts.” He stepped up to her open closet and said, “Go with what you feel. What attracts you in this closet?”

Lolly turned to him and frowned. “Clothes do not attract me or speak to me.”

With his left hand he touched the dress she had worn in his fashion show. “This spoke to you.”

“No duh. You made it just for me.” He noticed she had a nervous tremble in her voice. Was it possible she was worried about seeing their parents together after school too? Maybe, Maybe not.

“The bus is going to be here soon. Just pick something for me please.”

“Okay.” Inside Munch wanted to shout, Pick something yourself, but he didn’t. The poor girl had little in the way of fashion. Her clothes were so boring. He chose her black jeans, her better chucks and a purple sweater. The outfit was okay, but it was not stylish. “Here, wear this.”

“Oh, that looks good.”

Did it? It looked pretty average to him. One thing Munch Dutchendorph did not wear was average.

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Lolly gushed, “Thanks so much Munch. I don’t know how you do it.”She gave him a quick hug and then shooed him out of her room.

Munch made his way to the kitchen. Grandma Toady put a plate of fried eggs in front of him. Without enthusiasm he at his breakfast. When he finished, Grandma Toady handed him his lunch bag. She told him, “I made you grilled tofu with your mom’s recipe. I hope you like it.”

“Thanks Grandma Toady.” While he might not like THAT MAN at all, he loved his mother. Grandma Toady had been in Munch’s life since she and Lolly had been the only ones who came to his sixth birthday party. He was the new kid at school. Skinny dark skinned and way too imaginative. Schools had only recently been desegregated and there were a whole lot of parents who didn’t want their kids mixing with a weird biracial little boy. At that long ago birthday party, he and Lolly had become best friends and Grandma Toady had become the Grandma of his heart. He reached out and gave her a hug. Her long skinny arms wrapped around him. Her love for him was real and solid and he couldn’t say that about many people in his life.

She said, “I‘ll be praying for you today. Remember we will get through this together.”

He released her and said, “Yes Ma’am.”

Lolly entered the kitchen wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt and her dad’s Army cap. Hehad to force himself not to sneer at the cap. His hatred for all things Trace Phelps went deep.

Outside it was cold. Frost adorned every barbed wire fence and oak leaf. The air tingled when he breathed it in and it turned into a puff of smoke when he breathed out. As kids, he and Lolly had conjured lollipop sticks into fake cigarettes. They had puffed and blown so hard they made themselves dizzy. Munch glanced at Lolly to see if she was remembering the same thing. She wasn’t. Her eyes were focused on the road ahead. The road that lead to the dearly beloved Trevor Long.

In the distance, they saw the bus roaring to their stop. They both took off at a run. Neither of them was fast. Thankfully, Mrs. Anderson, their bus driver, was very patient. When they swung into the bus, she said, “Glad ya’ll could make it. Now take your seats.” Lolly and Munch slid into their assigned seats. The bus roared forward. In no time at all, Munch spotted Trevor Long standing at his stop. Lolly began to beam. Sarcastically, Munch said, “Oh. Lord. Save me from love.”

Lolly turned and smiled at him. “You just wait, it’s gonna hit you some time.”

“Sure.” Like he had a chance in his all white school, scrawny little black child that he was. He might be half white, but when when people looked at him all they saw was black.

The bus stopped. Track Star, Trevor Long took the steps two at a time. He winked at Lolly as he passed by and gave Munch a head nod.

When they reached Lyndon Baines High School, the bus pulled to a stop. The doors squealed open. Lolly and Munch were the first ones in the aisle and the first ones off the bus. As soon as Trevor got out, he gave Lolly a hug. Nope, this was not company Munch wanted to keep this morning. He mumbled, “I need to go to the art room.”

Not the least bit sad about his departure, Lolly said, “Okay. See you later.”

Quickly, Munch made his way to the art room. It was a glorious room of clutter. High shelves lined the walls with every material that might spark creativity. The minute he entered he felt like something was different. Perched on his stool in the back of the room was Quack, the loudest kid in school and one of the best comic book artists Munch had ever met. Quack was staring at a new girl sitting quietly at the front table. Quack glanced at Munch and raised his eyebrows. This was his signal that he was into this girl and Munch should back off. Quack was into every girl that had a pulse. Unfortunately for Quack, none of the girls were into him, but he kept trying.

The art room door banged open. Mademoiselle Petite entered with a huge stack of papers. She saw Munch and smiled. “Hey Michael, could you help me.” She asked, “Thahn Ha, would you like to help?” The girl looked up. Her eyes were the darkest eyes Munch had ever seen. Light seemed to bounce off of them and fill them at the same time. She was wearing a long sleeved dress with orange blossoms on it. The sheen of her black hair was amazing. She didn’t look real.

Timidly, Thahn Ha said, “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good.” Mademoiselle Petite dumped the stack of papers onto the table where Thahn Ha was sitting. Munch felt his mouth dry out. His legs didn’t seem to want to walk. What was wrong with him? He got himself going, made it to the table. His eyes took in every inch of Thahn Ho that was visible.

Mademoiselle Petite said, “Sit Michael.”

He did. His heart started this funny racy thing inside his chest. Thahn Ha looked at him from across the table with those beautiful eyes and he was gone. Solid gone.