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went sour, but his expression didn’t change. Keeping her secret was easy with other men. They rarely spoke to her. What if Lionel was trying to trap her, was spying for Maw-Maw?
    â€œThe rest of the world doesn’t understand free spirits. Seems only Jesus can forgive. My mama can’t. She kicked me out. I’ll go first.”
    He moved a black. The blacks were men and kings.
    She moved a red. Girls and empresses.
    â€œPeople think kids can’t make decisions but here you are working already, on your own, so to speak. Kids are naturally sexual. Somebody famous said that first, can’t remember who.”
    He moved a black.
    She moved a red. Was moving a checker making a decision?
    â€œKnow what my problem is? I’m ahead of my time. Paying for this is baloney. We should be free to make each other feel good whenever we want.”
    He moved a black and she captured it.
    â€œShoot! How about I teach you English? Then you could tell me how you did that. It’s terrible what happened to your people. I said a prayer for them.”
    Maybe Lionel was a detective her father had hired. If so, he’d probably expect her to look like her last school photo. Her hair hadn’t been twisted on top of her head. She yanked out the rubber band and the plastic clips Maw-Maw put in each night, let her hair drop to her shoulders. Onyx black.
    â€œHey,” Lionel said, “I was just thinking about your hair, wondering how long it was. Pop would’ve said ‘quite the co-inky-dink.’ Thought he was a real comedian, the bastard.” His hand flew up and pressed his forehead as if he’d eaten ice cream too fast. “What a jerk! Cussing in front of a lady. I’m so sorry, so sorry. Can you forgive me?” He looked as if he might cry.
    Matsi held out a clip that had retained a strand of her DNA . Lionel took it and kissed her hand over and over with his thin, dry lips.
    She held her hand to her nose that night. No trace of his scrubbed clean smell.
    A good-news-at-last story spread through the camp. While off on a beach, in search of his wife, a man found dolphins in a once dry lagoon that the dead had churned into poison. A pinky-gray humpback mum and her kid. They’d surfed over trees. Apparently. A miracle, a sign of hope like Ice Cream Next Exit. But as it turned out, just the mum got rescued. The kid must have called for the Empress of Heaven.
    Between Lionel’s visits, Matsi replayed his breathy voice in her head. She wished he’d never won her. The things he said – like, just because he was older didn’t mean they couldn’t love each other – made her loneliness worse. Her parents had said, “Love you” every morning before she went to school and every evening when they tucked her in. “Love you, too,” she always sang back. She no longer remembered her room.
    â€œPop never hugged me,” Lionel said one night, pulling Matsi onto his lap. His penis rose like a cobra between her legs. “If I went to hug him, he’d say ‘quit acting like a girl.’ He didn’t respect my rights, either. When I was ten he gave my bike away because I forgot to hang up my clothes one day. Can you believe that? I mean, I was only ten.”
    Matsi squeezed the cobra with her thighs. Was this acting like a girl? Lionel touched her shoulders and back in little tickles she didn’t mind.
    â€œHe didn’t have my permission to give that bike away. Ma always made excuses for him – he’d had a bad day at work, he didn’t feel good, us kids were too noisy. She knew that wasn’t true. She was lying. I hate liars.”
    Matsi’s throat went hard as a marble. Having a secret was no good if you could never share it with someone. Especially if he found out before you told him and thought you were a liar. She wanted to speak so badly she almost threw up.
    â€œSometimes when I can’t get you right away, I sit