The Sound of Life and Everything by Krista Van Dolzer

exercise.” Not my best excuse by any means, but it would have to do.
    He drew a noisy breath. “Well, next time, fancy it when I’m not tryin’ to catch up.”
    I scowled. “What do you want?”
    â€œWhy do I have to want something? Don’t we always walk home together?”
    â€œOh, yeah,” I said, deflating. It was a dumb thing to forget. “I thought you were gonna ask me why I wasn’t at church.”
    â€œWell, I wasn’t,” Theo said. “But since you mentioned it, where were you?”
    â€œWe have a guest,” I said, trying to sound like it was nothing. The closer you stuck to the truth, the more convincing your fib sounded.
    Unfortunately, Theo wasn’t convinced. “A guest who doesn’t go to church?”
    I batted that away. “He’s a Lutheran, I think, or maybe a Methodist.” But these were flat-out lies, so I hurried to get back on track. “Not everyone goes to the First Baptist Church, you know.”
    â€œI
know,
” he said, rolling his eyes. “Good grief, you’re in a mood. Why are you actin’ like a ninny?”
    I was still trying to come up with a suitable response when the Studebaker roared up to the curb. Theo made a show of choking on the exhaust, but I just stood there staring. It had been a while since Mama had picked me up from school.
    â€œGet in, Ella Mae,” she said.
    I squinted at the car. The sun was at the perfect angle, so I could only just make out Takuma’s silhouette in the backseat.
    Theo craned his neck. “Is that—?”
    â€œIt’s no one!” I replied as I dashed around the Studebaker and hopped into the front seat. Now that Takuma was a real, live human being (and living in St. Jude, no less), it seemed especially dangerous to let Theo in on the secret.
    Mama peeled away in a cloud of dirt-colored exhaust, leaving Theo to cough and sputter in the shade of the old walnut tree. He must have found it strange that we hadn’t offered him a ride, but he would have found it even stranger to ride in the backseat with Takuma.
    Once Theo faded to a speck in the side mirror, I sneaked a peek over my shoulder. Takuma was pressed against the window, his eyes as wide as lollipops. They reflected Mr. Whitman’s shiny storefront and the giant sculpture of a Mother Lode revolving on the drugstore’s roof.
    â€œWhat do you think of St. Jude?” I asked.
    He looked out the window. “Big.”
    I looked out the window, too. It had never seemed that big to me, but St. Jude was the only place I’d ever been.
    â€œThat’s fine, Takuma,” Mama said, “but maybe you shouldn’t lean against the window.”
    Amazingly, he leaned away.
    I swallowed. “Is this all right? I thought Daddy said we couldn’t take Takuma out in public.”
    â€œDaddy also said he couldn’t borrow Daniel’s clothes, and he can’t have it both ways.” Mama sneaked her own peek in the rearview. “Not that Daniel’s clothes would fit.”
    I made a face. “We’re goin’ shopping?”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Mama said. “I won’t make you try anything on.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    St. Jude only had one department store, an ugly-looking place that shared a wall with Arty’s Tavern. It didn’t even have a name, just an old sign that said DEPARTMENT STORE in faded black letters. At least it wasn’t crowded.
    Mama set the parking brake, then climbed out of the car and led us up the steps, which sagged a little to the side. The air that clogged the doorway smelled like Gramps and Gran’s attic—dusty and lightly perfumed. Still, Mama plowed into the store as if she owned the place, Takuma hot on her heels. I swallowed one last gulp of air, then dove in after them.
    I blinked until my eyes adjusted to the dingy light, but even when they did, there wasn’t much to see. A