best friends. “Okay. Let’s pray.”
“Here?” Trevor scanned the park. “Are you nuts? No way.”
She reached out her hand. “It works best this way.”
“What way?” He merely looked at her.
“If we hold hands. A prayer works better when two or more people agree.”
So much for the bike. Trevor wasn’t going to hold hands with a girl. And he wasn’t going to pray out loud in the park.
“Don’t you want a bike?” she asked.
“Not that bad.”
Her arms were still crossed, and she shifted her weight to one foot like his mom used to do when Trevor did something to annoy her. “God doesn’t like it when people don’t believe in Him.”
Trevor looked over his shoulder, but didn’t see anyone paying attention to him or to Analisa. “Okay, but let’s go behind the tree.”
Analisa led him to the center of the park, and when he was sure they weren’t being watched, he let her take his hand.
This was so dumb.
She lowered her head and closed her eyes. “Dear God, please let Trevor have a bike. He needs to know that You love him and want him to have good things. Amen.”
As Trevor started to pull his hand away, she held on tight. “You gotta say it, too.”
“Say what?”
“ Amen . It’s like saying good-bye to God.”
Oh, brother. “Amen. Okay?”
Analisa grinned as though everything was wonderful now.
Yeah. Right.
As Trevor turned to walk away, he shook his head. If a new red bicycle magically appeared on his front porch, then maybe he’d have to change his mind about God.
Of course, there were some things he needed a lot more than a bike.
But God—if He was up there—already knew everything about that.
And He hadn’t done anything about it.
Chapter 5
E ven for a Saturday, the park had been pretty quiet. Trevor hung out until after the last kid went home, but why stay by himself here when he could do that at home?
He looked at the sun, saw it slipping lower than the big palm trees near the brick office building. He wasn’t all that good at guessing the time unless there were other things making it easy. Like the old guy who’d packed up his chessboard and was heading toward his red pickup.
It had to be way after five o’clock, so it was time to go—especially if Trevor wanted to beat Katie home, which he did. Some nights she worked really late, but this wasn’t one of them.
Besides, he was getting hungry even though he’d had more to eat for lunch today than he usually did. It was cool having a mom-made lunch for a change. Mrs. Rodriguez had cut the skin off the apples just like Trevor’s mother used to do.
It had been sad, too, and Trevor had gotten pretty quiet while they ate. That happened whenever he thought about his mom. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember what she used to look like, and he was afraid that when he got to be old like the chess-guy, he’d forget he even used to have a mom. That her hair had been blond. That she sometimes sang silly songs when she drove him to school. And that she smelled nice and kind of powdery.
Trevor blew out a sigh. Not having a mother sucked. Katie tried hard, but it wasn’t the same.
As he headed toward the apartment complex where they’d moved a couple of months ago, he kicked a half-crushed beer can along the edge of the road. His shoelaces flip-flopped from side to side, but he didn’t care.
If his dad was here, he’d tell Trevor to stop and tie them. So would Katie. But when Trevor was all by himself, he didn’t have to obey anyone or do anything he didn’t want to do.
A kid at the park once told him that he was lucky, but that wasn’t true. Trevor was probably the unluckiest kid in the whole world.
As he approached the weeded area near Paddy’s Pub, his stomach rumbled in spite of the peanut butter sandwich he’d eaten today, so he considered taking the shortcut home.
“If you go to the park,” Katie always told him before she left for work each day, “you can only stay for an hour. And be careful
“Here?” Trevor scanned the park. “Are you nuts? No way.”
She reached out her hand. “It works best this way.”
“What way?” He merely looked at her.
“If we hold hands. A prayer works better when two or more people agree.”
So much for the bike. Trevor wasn’t going to hold hands with a girl. And he wasn’t going to pray out loud in the park.
“Don’t you want a bike?” she asked.
“Not that bad.”
Her arms were still crossed, and she shifted her weight to one foot like his mom used to do when Trevor did something to annoy her. “God doesn’t like it when people don’t believe in Him.”
Trevor looked over his shoulder, but didn’t see anyone paying attention to him or to Analisa. “Okay, but let’s go behind the tree.”
Analisa led him to the center of the park, and when he was sure they weren’t being watched, he let her take his hand.
This was so dumb.
She lowered her head and closed her eyes. “Dear God, please let Trevor have a bike. He needs to know that You love him and want him to have good things. Amen.”
As Trevor started to pull his hand away, she held on tight. “You gotta say it, too.”
“Say what?”
“ Amen . It’s like saying good-bye to God.”
Oh, brother. “Amen. Okay?”
Analisa grinned as though everything was wonderful now.
Yeah. Right.
As Trevor turned to walk away, he shook his head. If a new red bicycle magically appeared on his front porch, then maybe he’d have to change his mind about God.
Of course, there were some things he needed a lot more than a bike.
But God—if He was up there—already knew everything about that.
And He hadn’t done anything about it.
Chapter 5
E ven for a Saturday, the park had been pretty quiet. Trevor hung out until after the last kid went home, but why stay by himself here when he could do that at home?
He looked at the sun, saw it slipping lower than the big palm trees near the brick office building. He wasn’t all that good at guessing the time unless there were other things making it easy. Like the old guy who’d packed up his chessboard and was heading toward his red pickup.
It had to be way after five o’clock, so it was time to go—especially if Trevor wanted to beat Katie home, which he did. Some nights she worked really late, but this wasn’t one of them.
Besides, he was getting hungry even though he’d had more to eat for lunch today than he usually did. It was cool having a mom-made lunch for a change. Mrs. Rodriguez had cut the skin off the apples just like Trevor’s mother used to do.
It had been sad, too, and Trevor had gotten pretty quiet while they ate. That happened whenever he thought about his mom. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember what she used to look like, and he was afraid that when he got to be old like the chess-guy, he’d forget he even used to have a mom. That her hair had been blond. That she sometimes sang silly songs when she drove him to school. And that she smelled nice and kind of powdery.
Trevor blew out a sigh. Not having a mother sucked. Katie tried hard, but it wasn’t the same.
As he headed toward the apartment complex where they’d moved a couple of months ago, he kicked a half-crushed beer can along the edge of the road. His shoelaces flip-flopped from side to side, but he didn’t care.
If his dad was here, he’d tell Trevor to stop and tie them. So would Katie. But when Trevor was all by himself, he didn’t have to obey anyone or do anything he didn’t want to do.
A kid at the park once told him that he was lucky, but that wasn’t true. Trevor was probably the unluckiest kid in the whole world.
As he approached the weeded area near Paddy’s Pub, his stomach rumbled in spite of the peanut butter sandwich he’d eaten today, so he considered taking the shortcut home.
“If you go to the park,” Katie always told him before she left for work each day, “you can only stay for an hour. And be careful
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