One short thumb scratched her cheek, then the black stripe, then the arm again.
“A snack, Chenise?” said Boatwright. “Or a drink?”
“Candy?” said the girl in a very small voice.
“Sure. What kind do you like?”
“Um… Mounds?”
“Okay, and if we don't have that, what's your second choice?”
“Um… krackel?”
“So some kind of chocolate, huh?” Boatwright smiled at her and the girl nodded. Another touch of Chenise's shoulder caused her to sink in her chair.
“Be right back, hon.”
When the door closed, Chenise leaned farther away from Milo. Her small size made him look huge. He glanced at me.
“So,” I said, “you and Darrell met in a class.”
Nod.
“Were you both in the class?”
“Uh-uh.”
“You weren't.”
Headshake.
“But you met there.”
“Yeah.”
“Where was Darrell?”
“Leaving.”
“Leaving the class?”
Nod.
“He finished the class?”
Nod. “Gradated.”
“He graduated but you were still in the class.”
Nod.
“Do you remember where the class was, Chenise?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Where?”
“North Bower.”
“Is that a street?”
Headshake.
“School. In the back.”
“In the back of North Bower School,” I said. “What kind of class was it?”
That seemed to confuse her.
“What kinds of things did you learn in the class?”
“Change.”
“Change?”
Nod.
“How to change?”
“Like from a dollar.”
“How to
Nod.
“And other stuff?” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Like what?”
Shrug.
“Washing up.” She touched behind one ear and a tin earring shaped like a lightning bolt swung back and forth. “Food.”
“Food,” I repeated.
Emphatic nod.
“Making food?”
“Buying healthy food.”
“Was the class called DLS?”
“Yeah!” Big smile.
“Daily Living Skills,” I said to Milo. State grant for educating the borderline retarded that had run out six months ago.
Chenise said, “
She batted heavily mascaraed lashes, touched her hard, white tummy, pressed her knees together, then spread them slightly.
“So Darrell finished DLS,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“And you guys met at the school.”
Nod. “He got a job.” Pride.
“For Ready Messenger.”
“He had a room.”
“His own room?”
“Yeah.” She winked at me. Licked her lips. “Macipated.”
That took a moment to figure out. “Darrell was emancipated?”
Nod.
“Darrell was an emancipated minor?”
The full phrase went right by her.
“Emancipated,” I repeated.
Her eyes narrowed. “He
“Who did?”
“Lee. Her boyfriend.”
“His mother's boyfriend?”
“Yeah.”
“His mother's boyfriend hit on him?” I said, unsure if that meant beating or sexual abuse.
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“With a belt.”
“So Darrell ran away and got emancipated.”
Nod.
“When?”
“I dunno.”
“Must have been a while ago because he's nineteen, now.”
She shrugged and licked her lips.
Boatwright came back with a krackel bar.
“Here you go, hon.”
The girl took the candy tentatively, unwrapped a corner, and nibbled at it. “Slow,” she said.
Boatwright said, “Pardon?”
“Eat slow, don't choke.”
“Good advice,” I said. “Did they teach you that at DLS?”
“Show up on time, napkins in lap… your smile is your…”- wrinkled brow-“is your… manner?”
“Banner?” I said.
“Yeah!”
