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the laundry room.
    “Thank you,” Johnny said appreciatively as she walked away.
    “Why, you sure are welcome, sweetheart. Grab a plate and start loading up!” Graye hollered back from the laundry room.
    “Feel better, bud?” asked Jackson, who came walking in from the living room with a fresh faced Bryce. He had changed his clothes and freshened up too. Maybe he really was dirty from working with horses. Johnny believed the man had only told him that so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable for being so horrendously filthy.
    “I feel great. The water here works really good,” Johnny replied as he anticipated eating.
    “Well, that’s good to hear. Here’s a plate. I hope you’re ready to throw down,” Jackson said as he handed a white porcelain plate to the boy.
    “Pops, don’t butcher the English language,” Jared said sarcastically as he loaded a large amount of mashed potatoes onto his plate. Jackson looked at his son, a bit confused, and shrugged. Johnny had only witnessed the interaction between Jared and his father for half an hour, yet he could recognize several similarities in their mannerisms.
    The entire family was now circling the table, loading their plates in a most unconventional manner. The families on TV sat down around the table, and the words, “Will you please pass,” were redundantly muttered. Not here, not this family. Johnny didn’t mind. The unconventional table manners were nothing to take note of as his father’s kitchen was usually cluttered with gas cans, various tools, and the occasional car part.
    “Momma, it smells so good!” said little Bryce as she anxiously watched her older brother load her plate.
    “Well, of course it does, baby girl. Your momma is only the best cook this side of New Orleans,” Graye replied in a confident, sarcastic manner.
    Johnny smiled as he placed a chicken leg on his plate. He then grabbed a roll and backed away from the table.
    “You’re gonna have to grab more than that if we’re gonna get through this pile tonight,” Jared said as he placed Bryce’s plate down in front of the hungry and excited little girl.
    Johnny was very hungry, and there was a lot there, even for this entire family and himself.
    “I can do that,” Johnny said as he reached for what he thought looked like a chicken breast.
    “Attaboy!” said Jared with a smile.
    Johnny couldn’t understand why the family was being so pleasant to him, but at the same time he knew he was in no position to question their friendly generosity. Just as easily as he had ended up in this huge, beautiful kitchen, he could be on the street, or even worse, in a week from now, or even tomorrow. For now, he was going to take the opportunity to quell his hunger, as well as try his hardest to not worry about what tomorrow had in store.
    Once he was confident the selections on his plate would appease his rumbling stomach, Johnny turned and walked to the corner of the kitchen, about seven feet away from the table. He then sat down on the floor with his plate of food and his back to the family.
    He picked up the chicken leg and bit into it; it was delicious. The Cajun spices were so flavorful, and the texture was so crunchy. Johnny was now wishing he would have taken more. Perhaps there would be some left over. He noticed the entire family had halted their plate preparation and was now watching him.
    “Um, Johnny,” Jared said softly, “we got another place here at the table for you; right here next to me, man.”
    Johnny, still sitting down, and with a mouth full of chicken, used his feet to swivel around on his rear. “You…you want me to sit at the table?” Johnny asked, somewhat surprised by the invitation.
    Graye walked over to the boy and held out her hand to help him up. “Of course, sweetheart. Grab your plate and come sit with the family at the table. We can’t have you sitting on the floor on your birthday.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    Morning