Drive-By Read Free Page B

into the doghouse with me, his skinny feet poking my legs. His wagging tail hit my face.
    I didn’t know what to do. How would I know when it was safe? Would it ever be safe?

9
    I t felt like I was in that smelly doghouse with Spider breathing in my face for at least half an hour. Then someone called my name.
    “Timothy Thomas Cahill, what are you doing in the doghouse?”
    No one except Mom ever calls me Timothy Thomas, not unless I’m in a world of trouble.
    I peeked out. I could hardly see, the way Spider licked my face like I was a giant human lollipop.
    “You come in here right now.” Mrs. Washington stood on the porch, her hands fisted on her wide hips. She wore a green robe, and pink curlers in her hair.
    You don’t argue with Mrs. Washington.
    I started to the back door. Gus leaned over the fence with his hand reaching out. I tossed his jeans to him.
    “Man, you’re a sorry case for keeping your pants on in this city,” I said, and smiled.
    He smiled back, but then he made some kind of gang sign with his hand.
    That made me sad.
    I went inside. Our refrigerator sat on the back porch. I’d know that refrigerator anywhere. When I was three, I colored on it with a green marker. Mom never got all the color off.
    In the kitchen Mom sat at the table with a cup of coffee. She had a wide-eyed look on her face like she’d seen a ghost.
    Detective Howard sat next to her, slapping his notebook against his thigh.
    Mom stood and filled a coffee cup three quarters full of milk, then added coffee and put it in front of me.
    She handed me a sugar bowl and spoon.
    “Detective Howard wants to talk to you.” Her voice sounded sad.
    I spooned sugar into the cup and stirred my milk coffee.
    “Son, do you know who was shooting at the house?” Detective Howard asked.
    “No,” I said, and sipped the sweet milk coffee.
    “Did you see anyone?” Detective Howard asked.
    “A black Chevrolet,” I said. “It was chopped. I didn’t see any faces.”
    “What if we had been there?” Mom could barely speak.
    “I don’t think the shooting was meant for you or your son, Mrs. Cahill, if that’s what has you worried,” Detective Howard said. “From the graffiti on the walls, it looks like rival gangs are trying to claim the house.”
    That seemed to make Mom feel better. But it couldn’t make her feel great to know rival gangs were fighting over the house.
    Detective Howard folded the notebook and gave a business card to Mom.
    She was so nervous, she began chewing on the edge of the card.
    “Try not to worry,” Detective Howard said.
    Then he stood and left.
    “If there’s no need to worry, then how come we moved in here with Mrs. Washington?” I asked.
    Mom got a strange look on her face.
    Mrs. Washington said, “I need the rent money, for one thing.”
    Mom held up her hand. Her hands were always red from cleaning hotel rooms even though she wore big yellow rubber gloves. “Without Jimmy’s money from his job at the restaurant, we can’t afford to live there,” Mom said.
    I felt really bad I had asked now.
    Mom’s work cleaning hotel rooms wasn’t enough.
    “You left for school this morning before I got back,” Mom said. “I didn’t have a chance to explain everything to you.” Then she choked up. “What would have happened to you if you had gone home to the old house?”
    I didn’t bother to tell her that I had. Or how Gus had saved my life.
    I sipped the sweet milk coffee instead.
    I didn’t mind moving. I liked Mrs. Washington. Good smells always came from her kitchen. The best part was now I had a dog.
    Spider must have read my mind. He jumped on my lap. His bony feet poked me like someone jabbing me with the blunt end of a knife.
    “Get down, Spider,” I yelled.
    Mrs. Washington gave me a pooper-scooper. “I guess this will be your job now, Tito.”
    She and Mom laughed. Mom laughed too loudly, like she was desperate to make herself happy again.
    I stood on the back porch with the pooper-scooper