17
I
woke to the sound of knocking at the front door. A quick look at the clock told me it was only six thirty. No school, and someone was knocking at 6:30 in the morning. Gah!
I climbed out of bed, and remembering that Blanch was downstairs, pulled on some sweatpants and a bra.
Mom was just ahead of me on the stairs, and as I passed through the living room, I could see Blanch stretching on the couch.
When Mom cracked open the front door, Isaiah stood there with a box in each hand—one of coffee and one of donuts. I knew why Mom loved that man.
“A little early, I know,” he said. “But I couldn’t wait to see what you’d found.”
Behind him, I saw a familiar car slide up to the curb, and Javier moved slowly up the walk. I let Isaiah in and then stepped out onto the stoop, closing the door
