After they left the Contemporary Museum of Art, Mrs. Anderson drove them to Herman Park. Munch pretended like it was Central Park. Beside him, Thahn Ho kept her eyes focused out the window. In Munch’s sweatshirt pocket was the cat. He wanted to give it to her now, but he didn’t want to interrupt her view. The sunlight fell through the bus window capturing her in a halo of light. It was a picture he wanted to paint, but he knew he wasn’t good enough to to do so yet. Maybe someday.

The bus pulled into the parking lot. Everyone piled out with their lunches in hand. Mrs. Duong stopped Thahn Ho and quietly asked, “Are you have a good time?”

Thahn Ho nodded.

“I’m glad.” She turned to Munch and said, “I hear you plan to go to Design School in New York.”

Who had told her? Mama? Probably. “Yes, I hope to.”

“That is a fine dream. May it come true.” She gave him a smile that unsettled him.

“Thank you.” He did he best to smile back at her, but something ate at him. Was she hoping he would go as far away from Thahn Ho as he could? Had Mama also told Mrs. Duong that he wouldn’t be going to Design School until after he got his BA? He didn’t know, but he suspected that Mrs. Duong might suspect he liked Thahn Ho more than a little. He said, “If you will excuse me,” and headed for the restroom. His heart had started beating funny and he felt a little sick to his stomach. Was he over reacting? Probably, he was really good at that.

In the men’s room, he splashed cold water on his face and tried to catch his breath. Anxiety was ripping through him. The door banged opened and Quack walked in. He saw Munch face in the mirror and asked, “What’s up little buddy?”

“Nothing.”

Quack leaned against the wall and said, “Could it be that you think Mrs. Duong is on to you?”

Good grief! Quack’s brain was a thick as a wooden post. If he had caught on, surely Mrs. Duong had too. Munch didn’t say anything because he didn’t trust his voice. It would crack for sure. Outside he took in a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. Thahn Ho was seated at the table with her mom and Mademoiselle Petite. What to do? If he didn’t sit with her would that cancel out whatever suspicions Mrs. Duong had or would it make it worse. Gosh, he wished Ong noi had been their chaperone instead of her.

As he approached the table he heard Mademoiselle talking in earnest about colleges and their art programs. Thahn Ho was listening intently. Dejected Munch went and sat down at a table far from the rest of the group. If he couldn’t be with Thahn Ho, he wanted to be alone. He wasn’t alone for long because Quack joined him.

The doofus’s didn’t have a lunch bag or a lunch kit. His food was packed in a cooler. When he opened it, Munch saw a two big hoagie sandwich’s Quack asked him if he wanted one. “Thanks, but no, I’m a vegetarian.”

“Really. Why did I not know that? That it explains why you’re so scrawny.”

Wow, that made Munch feel so much better. He pulled out his peanut butter sandwich and started eating.

Quack asked, “What kind of bread it that?”

Seriously, he had never seen whole grain bread before. Munch swallowed and said, “It’s home made.”

“Can your mama even cook?”

Seriously, Mama couldn’t, but he didn’t say that. Instead he asked, “Want a bite?”

“No thank you.” Quack took a big chomp out of his hoagie.

Munch ate as fast as he could, but he still finished long after Quack had downed to Hoagie’s. The boy was an eating Machine! Quack downed his canned soda in one gulp and let out a big old belch.

Lunch was a miserable mess. After everyone finished eating, the Art Club road the little train that ran through the park. Munch had imagined riding it with Thahn Ho, but she was sitting with her mom. When the ride was over, they headed for the bus. Munch made sure he got on the bus before Thahn Ho did. It would be her choice to sit with him. He sat down and waited. Mademoiselle Petite, Mrs. Duong and Thahn Ho were the last people to get on. Thahn Ho locked eyes with Munch. Her expression told him, she could not sit with him. She took a seat besidea girl named Sally who was quiet like Thahn Ho.

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On the ride home it was hard to not steal glances at Thahn Ho, but he didn’t want her mother catching him gawking. It was all so stupid. He had been as careful as he possibly could. When they got back to the school only last period remained. He watched Thahn Ho get off the bus and head inside without him. In his pocket was the cat he had bought her. Maybe he could catch her after school. Maybe.

*

As soon as the bell rang, Munch was out the door and headed for Thahn Ho’s locker. He saw her getting her books out. Almost there. When he reached her, she looked at him and said, “I think my mom knows.”

“Me too.” Munch pulled the bag with the cat out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She opened the bag and gave a little squeal of delight. “Oh Michael, you shouldn’t have but I am so glad you did! Thank you!”

All the awfulness of the day melted in her shining eyes. Munch felt himself blush. To his surprise she gave him a quick hug. “You are the best.” She put the cat in the bag in her backpack and said, “I will see you tomorrow.” She didn’t say, its best you don’t walk me out, but he knew he shouldn’t, so he just watched her go.

*

The late afternoon air was crisp and cold. Munch sat on a stump by the chicken coop watching the hens scratch the dirt looking for bugs and worms. He heard the jingle of tiny bells. The jingle stopped right behind him. Tiny arms wrapped around his neck. Mitzi gave him a squeeze and asked, “You guarding the chickens?”

“No.”

The jingling started up again as she walked around and climbed up into his lap. She had silver bells on her sneakers. In her pink baby carrier was Puccini. That sad little bear needed a bath. Mitzi leaned her head against his chest and asked, “Is Aunt Estelle crying?”

“Yup.”

“Is Lolly mad?”

“I dunno.” Lolly was mad, but Munch didn’t say so. She had not said a single word on the bus or asked him how his day went, not that he wanted to talk about that.

Mitzi sighed and said, “I wish Uncle Trace didn’t have to leave all the time. It wasn’t so bad before he married Aunt Estelle. Your mama gets too upset.”

“Yup.”

“Plus, when he comes home, the chickens babies are NOT safe.”

“You mean eggs?”

Mitzi didn’t answer. Instead she asked, “How much longer until he leaves?”

“About and hour.”

“You want to come and hide at my house. I won’t tell anyone you’re there. The only one who will know is Bruno.”

“Thank you Mitzi.” The thought of hiding out with that drooling pit bull was honestly more appealing than enduring the waterworks of Mama. She really needed to get a grip.

Mitzi asked, “How was your visit to the museum?”

This question surprised Munch. Mama hadn’t asked about the museums and neither had Lolly. “It was good mostly.”

“I want to be an artist like you and your mama.” She turned and looked up at him.

He told her, “Mitzi you are already and artist.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

Impulsively she hugged him. “I am so glad you are my cousin.”

“Me too.”

Mitzi let go of him and hopped onto the ground, she went to the chicken coop and laced her fingers through the wiring. She said, “I am asking for a my very own chicken for my birthday. She will have her own coop and she will sleep with me at night.”

Munch doubted very seriously that that would happen.

“And Aunt Estelle will never be allowed to steal her babies!”

*

The time had come. That man was packed. Grandma Toady was the only calm female in the house. Lolly was either angry or upset, Munch wasn’t sure which. Mama was in full out grief. She wasn’t sobbing but her eyes were leaking like a bucket. Munch watched Trace Phelps pick up his duffle bag. His eyes sought out Lolly. Would she hug him? Lolly stepped forward and hugged her pa. She said, “Take care.”

That man gave her a tentative smile. “I will. I’ll call you on Wednesday.”

“Okay.”

He released her and Lolly stepped back.

Next was Grandma Toady. She was wearing a big smile as if all was right with the world. She hugged her son and said, “Love you. Be careful.”

“I will Ma.” His arms tightened around her and then he let her go.

The good byes he would say to Mama would not be public. He reached for Mama’s hand and they went out the back door.

Lolly headed for the front door, but Grandma Toady said, “Wait.”

Lolly turned and asked, “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Munch hated it when adults played the ‘because I said so card.’ It was NEVER a good thing.

In a huff Lolly sat down on the sofa and stared into space. Munch asked Grandma Toady, “Is it okay if I go up stairs.”

The smile she gave him was kind, still she said, “I want you to wait too.”

After what seemed like an eternity, they heard the truck pull away. More time passed and Mama finally came inside. Her face was a wreck. Grandma Toady went to her and took her in her arms. Gently she said, “Sweetie, you gotta figure out a better way to do this.”

“I know.”

“Maybe talk to your priest?”

“Yeah. I think maybe that would be a good idea.”

Grandma Toady let got of her and Mama went to her room. Once her door was closed, Grandma Toady said, “I know this last week has been tough for both of you. Just remember one thing, your parents are human beings and they don’t understand everything. Both your parents have been alone a long time and,” her voice lowered, “they got married way too fast. So try to be patient with them, but also be honest with them. They are good and they love you.”

Munch nodded, but Lolly just sighed. She asked, “Can we go now?”

“Yes.” Grandma Toady came over to Munch and gave him a hug. She said, “You will be in my prayers tonight.”

Munch watched them walk out the front door. Mama’s muffled sobs filled the house. It was a sound he didn’t want to hear. He went to the studio and put on Etta James album, At Last. Then, he got out the painting he was doing of Thahn Ho in a traditional ao dai. As he painted she felt very near to him. She would look so pretty in this. Fear and sadness fell on him hard. What if her mother didn’t let her wear it? What if her mother kept them apart like Ong noi’s father had kept him away from the girl he loved. Ong noi’s father was a brute, Mrs. Duongwasn’t a brute, but still, she just might ruin everything.