Some Places More Than Others by Renée Watson

Author:Renée Watson
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

13

I know my birthday isn’t here yet and I have no candle to blow out, but as soon as I wake up, I make a wish, say a prayer. God, please let my baby sister be okay. And then I say a prayer asking that I get some interviews done today. It’s Tuesday, and so far I only have bits and pieces, not enough to complete my assignment. I’ve got to finish talking with Nina and Ava and stay focused next time so that I am the only one asking questions. And Grandpa Earl. I’ve got to interview him, too.

I ease out of bed, take my time getting dressed, and go downstairs. Grandpa is in the kitchen already, making oatmeal. “I was just about to call up to you,” he says. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“Hungry?” he asks, pointing to the sliced apples sitting on a plate.

“Thank you,” I say, biting into the sweet fruit. “Is Dad up yet?”

“He’s got meetings all day. Left about ten minutes ago.”

I don’t say anything. Just stuff my mouth with more apple.

“But don’t you fret. The girls will be here soon, and I’ve planned a little outing. There are some places I want to show you that aren’t on your list,” Grandpa Earl says. “Hope you don’t mind spending the day with an old man.”

“Not at all,” I say.

After breakfast, I wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. Grandpa Earl disappears into his bedroom to get dressed. I stand in the living room looking around, wondering what stories this brownstone holds. There’s an oak cabinet across from me pushed against the wall. It looks like an antique thing, something Mom would use as a prop in a photo shoot of her vintage wedding gowns. On top of it are black-and-white photos of Grandma Grace and the rest of the family over the years. I wonder what’s inside. I walk over to open the doors, hoping to get a quick peek before Grandpa Earl returns, but then the doorbell rings.

Nina and Ava are here, dressed to impress again.

Grandpa comes out of his room, grabs his coat and keys, and we leave.

Because we’re with Grandpa Earl, we are walking slowly and I can actually look around without feeling rushed by Ava. We walk by a restaurant on 126th and Lenox that has a mural. “Can we stop? I want to take a picture,” I say.

Ava doesn’t roll her eyes this time. Maybe because Grandpa Earl is with us, maybe because she doesn’t want to get that Big-Sister-Stare-Down from Nina again.

Grandpa Earl says, “I wanted you to see this.” We all step close to the mural. A Harlem neighborhood is painted against the brick. Black legends float through the air, some smiling, some holding hands, others reaching into the sky as if they are offering up a praise or flying away to heaven.

Grandpa takes out his wallet. “I’ll give you each a dollar for every person you recognize.”

Ava is quick to shout out, “Madam C. J. Walker,” then looks at me, rolls her eyes, and says, “She invented the process for straightening hair.

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