I stand at the gate in her backyard, letting Shetan snuffle his nose in my hair while I run my hand up and down his neck. A couple of cats glare at me from the back porch. The white one hops down, trots across the yard with her swollen belly swaying side-to-side, and I start making plans to ask Mama for a kitten. Daddy won’t care as long as I don’t ask him to buy anything for it. Mama just gets allergic now and then. By allergic, I mean selfish, of course. Debbie’s ear twitches as the cat walks past, but she doesn’t move. I keep glancing from her to the road, figuring she’ll start barking if she hears Brant’s truck. I search the road for a cloud of dust, but it’s empty and still, just like the sky and the air. Maybe he’s not coming today. He never said he was. But he never said he wasn’t. I rub my cheek against the hard part of Shetan’s nose. He snorts and slobbers on my neck. Debbie’s head shoots up, ears pricked, nose trembling. My heart skips, but then the back door opens and Sister Bonnie steps out, wearing bug-eye mom shades and her big, floral-print purse.
