Just out the corner of Joe’s left eye, he could see Danita. She looked so pretty in her pale blue dress. He wished he was one pew back so he could really see her. He wished he had sat with her and he would have if she weren’t wedged between her parents. Without Mama beside him, Joe felt a little lonely. Wednesday night she had rejoined the choir. Joe had his suspicions about this. Had she joined to sing, or be closer to the preacher? At the moment Mama’s eyes remained locked on the preacher. Did anyone else notice her all google eyed? If Darryl did, he was sure to comment.

  When the service was over, Mama had to go put up her choir robe. Joe took this opportunity to get close to Danita. Her smile was so warm when she saw him coming toward her. Shyly she said, “Hey, Joe.”

  “Hi.”

  She said, “You played a good game Friday night.”

  “Not really.”

  Danita increased the wattage of her smile. “You looked good to me.”

  Wow! She was flirting with him. Before Joe could answer, Darryl slapped him upside the head. Angrily Joe spun around. Darryl’s eyes were serious. His voice dropped low, “What did I tell you about my sister?”

  With her purse Danita whacked Darryl in the arm. “I’m gonna tell Mama if you don’t stop it. Boys can talk to me, you are not my guard dog even if you do look like one.”

  Joe couldn’t help himself he laughed and said, “Burn.”

  Darryl didn’t find this funny.

  Danita took a step closer to Joe. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” She turned to her brother and said, “Come on Fido, Mama’s waiting.”

  The way Danita walked was a cross between a dancer’s step and an athlete’s stride. Her dress fluttered softly around her thighs. A hand touched Joe’s shoulder. Mama said, “That girl sure has grown up.”

  Joe couldn’t speak.

  “Come on son. Let’s get home before the game is over.”

  Joe had not even thought about the game. Not even once. He glanced at his watch. Man, Brother Greene had done it again. First quarter was over.

  *

  Monday, afternoon, and Joe had yet to see Danita. He hoped she wasn’t sick. At lunch he started to ask Darryl about it, but decided it wouldn’t be in his best interest. He would ask Morrow in Calculus. She and Danita were friends. On his way to Calculus Joe passed Christy. She didn’t acknowledge him in any way and he was relieved. That was over, what ever it had been, thank God. He went into Coach Wilson’s room and sat down. Morrow was thumbing through a drawing tablet on her desk. He asked her, “Is Danita here today?”

  “Yeah. She’s been in the drama room most of the day.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s in the play.”

  “What part does she have?”

  “She has a solo dance.”

  “Really.”

  Morrow turned to face him. “Yeah, she’s really good. Don’t you ever go to plays?”

  No he never went to plays but that was about to change.

  Morrow asked, “Why are you so interested in Danita all the sudden?”

  In order to dodge the question Joe reached over Morrow’s shoulder and grabbed her drawing tablet.

  “Hey.”

  He opened it and asked, “What you got in here?”

  “Just some stuff I drew.”

  Joe opened the tablet expecting to see flowers and hearts. What he saw surprised him. Detailed drawings in pencil. All the people Morrow had drawn were so good and so life like. He just stared and dumbly asked, “You did these?”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Don’t sound so surprised.”

  Truth was she had surprised him. She never mentioned her art the entire time he had known her, and they had known each other since second grade. He turned to the next page and gasped.

  Morrow saw the picture and laughed. “You scared of my dog?”

  “Yes. He may be little but he sure is mean.” The dog’s eyes glistened on the page. His sharp little teeth were poised to bite. Joe flipped to the next page. It was a black and white sketch of Mr. Anderson, Morrow’s grandpa. “Who taught you to draw like this?”

  “I’ve had some lessons, but mostly it is inherited. And I love to draw. When I draw I forget everything else. Time stands still and everything just fades away.”

  That was an exact description of how Joe felt when he ran. Softly he said, “You have a gift.”

  “I know and I want to honor it.”

  What did she mean by that? Before he could ask her the bell rang. Morrow took her tablet from him and stuffed it into her backpack.

  Coach Wilson pulled out a stack of worksheets. He smiled and said, “For today’s test—“

  Joe didn’t hear anything after that. Test. TEST. What test? Had Coach told them there was going to be a test? His mind raced back to Friday afternoon, lingered on Danita, rushed though the memory of Christy, then, he remembered. A lot of good it did him now. He was going to fail in the worst way. His daily grades were so bad. A failed test would send him over the edge. If he failed the class, he couldn’t play football. If he couldn’t play the scouts wouldn’t see him, if the scouts didn’t see him he wouldn’t get a scholarship. If he didn’t get a scholarship, his dreams would all be in the toilet.

  Coach Wilson placed a test on Joe’s desk. He lowered his voice and said, “Relax Jones. You know more than you think you do.”

  Right. The math equations looked as familiar as Chinese. Joe put his pencil on the paper praying some magic might occur. It didn’t. In his mind he heard Mama say, “Something is better than nothing. At least try.” Well, all he could do was pray that was true. He began to scribble and erase and scribble some more. Seconds lasted longer than minutes as he struggled. When the bell rang he still had two problems left. The rest of the class filed out.

  From his desk, Coach Wilson said, “Take your time Jones.”

  Joe was sick of trying. Two more wrong answers counted the same as two blanks. Still, effort was effort and he just couldn’t bring himself to turn in blank problems. He wrote something down, that looked like Calculus and took his paper to Coach Wilson.

  Coach took the paper but didn’t look at it. He put it with the rest of the tests on his desk, and then he opened his drawer, from it he pulled a small box. “Take this, it will help you.”

  Joe opened the box. It was an expensive calculator. He didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s for you. Keep it. It will help you with your homework.”

  “But-“

  “No buts. You need it and I need you to pass this class.”

  “Are my grades that bad?”

  “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  Joe pocketed the calculator. “Uh, thanks Coach.”

  Coach Wilson smiled.