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peeing in them tubes, anyway. The first one she dropped down the hole of the johnny. The next one she broke on the kitchen floor. Then Nurse Ann brung us two so we’d have a spare and I told Nonnie to pee in a cup and then pour it in the test tube.
    It made me crazy, watching her eat that banana pudding. I reckoned her pee would turn green in the test tube in the morning. I was starting to wonder who was the grown-up in this house and who was the child. Then she left them blue testing pills right out on the kitchen table where Baby William could of got them. Nurse Ann told us them pills would burn his insides out and I had to watch Nonnie like a hawk to be sure she put them on the high shelf by the sink after she done the testing.
    Eleven thirty-five. Baby William made a giggling sound in his sleep like he was dreaming about something happy and I hoped he was. On the other side of him, Mary Ella breathed so softly I couldn’t hear her. If I didn’t know she was there, I’d never guess there was three human beings in this bed.
    Mary Ella wore me out tonight, too, saying she didn’t feel good and maybe was going to die. She hugged Baby William real close and rocked him in the living room most of the evening while I folded the laundry. Nonnie always said Mary Ella’s just like our mama, and though she never did explain exactly what she meant by that, I knew it wasn’t a good thing. When Mary Ella said she didn’t feel good, I worried she’d done it again—gone and got herself another baby. I didn’t know how I’d handle one more person depending on me.
    Eleven forty-five. Finally. I got out of bed real quiet and put my pillow sideways under the covers like I did every night I snuck out—not to pretend like I was there, but to keep Baby William from rolling off the bed in his sleep. He wasn’t a peaceful sleeper. Mary Ella was the same way and sometimes she woke up when I got out of bed even though I made no more noise than a butterfly. Didn’t matter if she woke up. She knew where I was going. Only Nonnie didn’t know. All these years—practically my whole life—I snuck out, glad Nonnie slept like the dead. The house could be burning around her and she wouldn’t wake up, which was good because I had to get past her where she slept on the lumpy old sofa in the living room. Tonight, I couldn’t see her for the dark, but her snoring was so loud I felt it in the soles of my bare feet on the splintery wood floor.
    I had my nightgown on and not another stitch. In cooler weather, I got dressed before I snuck out or else I just wore my clothes to bed, but tonight was so hot I couldn’t stand the idea of putting on shorts and a shirt that would only stick to my body with sweat. Now, sneaking out of the house with my lantern and starting down the path to the crick, I loved the feel of the thin cloth against my body. The breeze rose under the hem and up my legs and I felt naked and couldn’t wait to get to Henry Allen.
    I didn’t really need the lantern. The moon gave me plenty of light on the path I knew by heart. All around me smelled like honeysuckle, and I pulled off some of the vines to carry with me, like I always did when they was blooming. I’d been walking that path at night since me and Henry Allen was kids. Back then, we’d haint these woods and make up monsters and scare each other with ghost stories. Nowadays, what got us excited was something altogether different.
    Henry Allen was already there on the mossy bank of the crick and I could hear his radio was playing Elvis Presley singing “It’s Now or Never.” He had the scratchy wool blanket stretched out and I dropped down next to him. Henry Allen looked like a young version of his daddy, with that same tall, slim build and the same dark hair. Mr. Gardiner had brown eyes, though, and wore glasses. Henry Allen’s eyes was blue and perfect. His hair always flopped into his eyes, like it was doing right now. I liked pushing it off his forehead. I