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and landing on the truck floor. I got real nervous when I seen that Daddy was going the long way home.
    â€œWhy are we goin’ this way, Daddy?”
    â€œI need to stop and get gas. It’ll just take a minute.”
    I shifted in my seat, and the bag holding the fritters made a crinkle noise. It sounded like my stomach was made of crumpled newspaper. I froze and held my breath. Sweat left the top of my head and ran down past my ears.
    Daddy started whistling some tune that only made sense to him. He smiled and looked sideways at me.
    Before he got out of his truck at the gas station, Daddy said, “Armani, why are you hiding your Memaw’s apple fritters under your shirt?” He smiled and winked and walked off to pump gas.
    I seriously felt my heart stop right then and there.

CHAPTER 4
    Memaw was wearing a hole in the front porch, pacing back and forth. She was fussing—close to tears—looking all crazy, like she’d gone and lost her mind. All I could think was how much she must’ve been wanting them apple fritters. The little white bag felt like a brick wall sitting on top of the big white box of doughnuts on the seat between me and Daddy. If the fritters had caused her to get that worked up, we were gonna have to have a serious talk about the importance of pastries.
    Memaw’s hands flew up to her cheeks when she seen us pull up. I knew right then from the look in her eyes that whatever was happening, it sure wasn’t about no apple fritters. My stomach twisted into a hard knot, and my heart went to pounding in the sides of my head.
    Daddy flew out of the truck, leaped up over all four steps, and had Memaw in his arms before I could even get my stupid stuck door open.
    â€œWhat is it, Mama Jean? What’s wrong?”
    â€œOh, thank the good Lord you’re home!” Memaw held a hand to her heart. “It’s the baby.”
    Kheelin.

    The ambulance people about knocked me down the porch steps when they ran past me with the oxygen tank. Ever since the twins was born, Kheelin had been sickly and Khayla stayed as healthy as could be. Kheelin had at least twenty asthma attacks a week till the doctor gave Mama the inhaler. That thing was always with Mama, and Mama was never more than a holler away from Kheelin.
    I tried to avoid Kheelin, ’cause I was afraid to love him. It seemed he was living with only one foot this side of Heaven. I ain’t proud of it, but it was the truth. All that baby boy had to do was sneeze sideways, and my nerves would get set in motion. When he was first born, I wouldn’t even hold him. Not that I would’ve had a chance to even if I’d wanted—not with the way Mama was always fussing over him twenty-four-seven.
    Memaw was huddled up in her TV-watching chair with her hand wrapped tight around the silver compass-locket she never took off. A layer of sweat covered her face. Sealy stood beside her.
    â€œAre you okay, Memaw?” Sealy asked, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. A lady paramedic on her way out the door stopped and looked down at Memaw. “Ma’am, are you feeling all right?”
    Memaw forced a smile and nodded her head. “I’m fine, darlin’,” she said, waving the lady away. “Don’t mind me none. I’m just an old lady who needs a rest, that’s all.”
    The ambulance lady took Memaw’s wrist and checked her pulse.
    â€œIs she havin’ an asthma attack too?” I asked. Nobody ever told me asthma was contagious.
    Memaw pulled her wrist away from the helpful lady and said, “No, indeed. I’m not havin’ an
attack
of any kind!” She slapped her hands down—one on each arm of her gold-flowered chair. She planted her feet firm on the floor and stood up, no grunts or nothing. She didn’t even take time to let the blood flow down to her toes like usual.
    As she strutted past me, Memaw put her hand on my shoulder and whispered,