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Authors: Nancy Holder
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and caffeine. How bad could one movie be? “We’ll need the salt.”
Clay brought over the goodies as Gus raised his head from his doggy bed, then hefted himself up and joined the party. He crawled onto the sofa and fwumped down beside Clay, eyeing him eagerly, and everyone got comfy.
“I hope Forrest shows up on Sunday,” Clay said as Grace grabbed a handful of popcorn. Grace felt a warmth in the center of her doting aunt’s heart. Mooking around, watching movies and doing nothing special, that was when Clay opened up and told her what was on his mind. She treasured these moments asmuch as any Sooner touchdown. It was like cracking the case that was Clay’s unfolding life, clue by miraculous clue.
“That’s that kid who’s so pale,” Grace recalled. “Forrest Catlett. His mom won’t let him ride in the parish van.”
“Yeah, she always drives him.” Clay wrinkled his nose. “It really embarrasses him. He hardly ever gets to come anymore. She told Father Alan that he’s got some kind of condition.”
Grace washed down her candy-and-popcorn mashup with three very hefty swallows of Coke. She burped. It was satisfying. Gus passed some gas. She assumed that was satisfying for him, too. As she and Clay made a show of waving away the smell, she took another handful of popcorn.
“Do you think he’s got some kind of condition?” she asked.
Clay thoughtfully munched. “I don’t know. I’ve been praying for him just in case.”
She smiled at him. So sweet. His cheeks were still little-kid round, but he needed new black pants for school because he’d grown two inches since Thanksgiving. A mixture of little boy and young man … where was the baby she’d rocked to sleep?
“That’s nice of you, Clay,” Grace said sincerely. “Praying for your friend.”
“Yeah. My dad’s been praying for Forrest’s parents to lighten up. He thinks they’re turning him into a hypochondriac.”
“That’s a big word,” she said.
Clay took a good, healthy handful of gooey buttery goodness. Two kernels fluttered to the floor and Gus slid off the couch like a wet sandbag, Hoovering them up. Who needed to get the vacuum cleaner fixed?
She grabbed the remote. Let there be
Astronaut
Farmer
. She settled in and glanced over at Clay, who looked pensive.
“She says Forrest is allergic to everything,” he continued as the previews began. “He has to bring special food. My dad says it’s probably a bunch of hooey.”
Grace cocked her head. “What do you think?”
“Well, they’re so protective of him,” he mused.
“Maybe because he’s got some kind of condition.”
“Or maybe they’re just worried that he might get hurt,” Clay said. “He had an older brother who died.”
Grace was startled. That was new information; Clay had never mentioned any Catlett siblings before, deceased or otherwise.
“So maybe they’re afraid he’ll die, too,” he explained.
“That makes sense, in a sad kind of way,” she said. Maybe she herself was a little neurotic about Clay.
“But it’s hard to get hurt at rocket club.” He frowned at the screen. “These previews are really lame. Do you think the movie’s going to be lame?”
“If it is, we’ll watch something else.” She could hope. She plucked up a piece of popcorn and aimed it at his nose. Bull’s-eye. “And we have liftoff,” she said.
“It’s in the air.” He threw a piece of popcorn back at her.
“Oh, my God, meteor shower!” She picked up a handful and showered him with it. Laughing shrilly, he leaped to his feet, reaching for the bag as Grace seized it, hurtled herself up and over the couch, and rolled to a crouch with the popcorn bag against her chest like a football. Clay rounded the end of the sofa and headed for her as she feinted left, right, working out an escape route while Clay wobbled with laugher, which slowed him down. Gus stretched up and flopped his head on the top of the sofa, watching with one eye closed, which was as
Clay brought over the goodies as Gus raised his head from his doggy bed, then hefted himself up and joined the party. He crawled onto the sofa and fwumped down beside Clay, eyeing him eagerly, and everyone got comfy.
“I hope Forrest shows up on Sunday,” Clay said as Grace grabbed a handful of popcorn. Grace felt a warmth in the center of her doting aunt’s heart. Mooking around, watching movies and doing nothing special, that was when Clay opened up and told her what was on his mind. She treasured these moments asmuch as any Sooner touchdown. It was like cracking the case that was Clay’s unfolding life, clue by miraculous clue.
“That’s that kid who’s so pale,” Grace recalled. “Forrest Catlett. His mom won’t let him ride in the parish van.”
“Yeah, she always drives him.” Clay wrinkled his nose. “It really embarrasses him. He hardly ever gets to come anymore. She told Father Alan that he’s got some kind of condition.”
Grace washed down her candy-and-popcorn mashup with three very hefty swallows of Coke. She burped. It was satisfying. Gus passed some gas. She assumed that was satisfying for him, too. As she and Clay made a show of waving away the smell, she took another handful of popcorn.
“Do you think he’s got some kind of condition?” she asked.
Clay thoughtfully munched. “I don’t know. I’ve been praying for him just in case.”
She smiled at him. So sweet. His cheeks were still little-kid round, but he needed new black pants for school because he’d grown two inches since Thanksgiving. A mixture of little boy and young man … where was the baby she’d rocked to sleep?
“That’s nice of you, Clay,” Grace said sincerely. “Praying for your friend.”
“Yeah. My dad’s been praying for Forrest’s parents to lighten up. He thinks they’re turning him into a hypochondriac.”
“That’s a big word,” she said.
Clay took a good, healthy handful of gooey buttery goodness. Two kernels fluttered to the floor and Gus slid off the couch like a wet sandbag, Hoovering them up. Who needed to get the vacuum cleaner fixed?
She grabbed the remote. Let there be
Astronaut
Farmer
. She settled in and glanced over at Clay, who looked pensive.
“She says Forrest is allergic to everything,” he continued as the previews began. “He has to bring special food. My dad says it’s probably a bunch of hooey.”
Grace cocked her head. “What do you think?”
“Well, they’re so protective of him,” he mused.
“Maybe because he’s got some kind of condition.”
“Or maybe they’re just worried that he might get hurt,” Clay said. “He had an older brother who died.”
Grace was startled. That was new information; Clay had never mentioned any Catlett siblings before, deceased or otherwise.
“So maybe they’re afraid he’ll die, too,” he explained.
“That makes sense, in a sad kind of way,” she said. Maybe she herself was a little neurotic about Clay.
“But it’s hard to get hurt at rocket club.” He frowned at the screen. “These previews are really lame. Do you think the movie’s going to be lame?”
“If it is, we’ll watch something else.” She could hope. She plucked up a piece of popcorn and aimed it at his nose. Bull’s-eye. “And we have liftoff,” she said.
“It’s in the air.” He threw a piece of popcorn back at her.
“Oh, my God, meteor shower!” She picked up a handful and showered him with it. Laughing shrilly, he leaped to his feet, reaching for the bag as Grace seized it, hurtled herself up and over the couch, and rolled to a crouch with the popcorn bag against her chest like a football. Clay rounded the end of the sofa and headed for her as she feinted left, right, working out an escape route while Clay wobbled with laugher, which slowed him down. Gus stretched up and flopped his head on the top of the sofa, watching with one eye closed, which was as
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