Crenshaw

17

Robin was waiting for me in the hallway, sitting crisscross-applesauce. Her stuffed armadillo, Spot, was in her lap.

I took her hand and led her back to her bedroom. Her rainbow nightlight painted stripes on the ceiling. I wished I had one in my room, although I’d never admit it.

“I heard you talking,” she said as she crawled under her blanket.

“Sometimes I talk to myself.”

“That’s kind of weird.” Robin yawned.

“Yeah,” I said, tucking her in. “It is.”

“You promised Lyle,” she reminded me.

I’d been hoping she’d forgotten. “Yep.”

“He’s in my keepsakes bag.”

I rummaged around in the brown paper bag. A bald doll poked out of the top, sizing me up with blank and beady eyes.

“Scooch over,” I said. Robin made room for me on her mattress.

I opened the book. Its pages were soft, its cover tattered.

“Robin,” I asked, “have you ever had an imaginary friend?”

“You mean like inbisible?”

“Invisible. Yeah. Like that.”

“Nope.”

“Really? Never?”

“Nope. I have LaSandra and Jimmy and Kylie. And sometimes Josh when he’s not being a boogerhead. They’re real, so I don’t need to pretend.”

I flipped through the pages of the book. “But sometimes, you know, when you’re alone?” I paused. I wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to ask. “Like say you’re home and you don’t have any friends over and you really need to talk to someone who’ll listen. Not even then?”

“Nope.” She smiled. “’Cause anyways I have you.”

It made me happy to hear her say that. But somehow it wasn’t quite the answer I’d been hoping for.

I opened to the first page. “‘This is the house. The house on East 88th Street. It is empty now—’”

“Like our house,” Robin interrupted. “Only we live in a ’partment.”

“True.”

“Jacks?” Robin said softly. “Remember when we lived in the minivan for a while?”

“Do you really remember that? You were just little.”

“Kinda I remember but not really.” Robin made Spot do a little dance on her blanket. “But you told me about it. So I was wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

Spot performed a backflip. “Wondering if we’re going to have to live there again. Because where would we go to the bathroom?”

I couldn’t believe it. Robin was just a kid. How had she figured out so much? Did she spy on our parents the way I did?

Robin sniffled. She wiped her eyes with Spot. I realized she was crying without making any noise.

“I … I miss my things and I don’t want to live in a car with no potty and also my tummy keeps growling,” she whispered.

I knew what to tell her. She needed to hear the facts. We were having money problems. We were probably going to have to leave our apartment. We might even end up back in our minivan. There was a good chance she’d have to leave all her friends behind.

I put my arm around Robin and hugged her close. She looked up at me. Her eyes shimmered.

You need to tell the truth, my friend.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “We can’t live in our car. Where would we put Popsicles? Besides, Aretha and Dad snore like crazy.”

She laughed, just a little.

“You worry too much, girl. Everything’s fine. I promise. Now let’s get back to Lyle.”

Another sniffle. A nod.

“Hey, fun fact about crocodiles,” I said. “Did you know that a bunch of them in the water is called a ‘float’?”

Robin didn’t answer. She was already sound asleep, snoring softly.

Me, I couldn’t sleep. I was too busy remembering.