The Trouble with Half a Moon by Danette Vigilante

Author:Danette Vigilante
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2010-11-30T00:00:00+00:00

“Dellie, is she a witch?” Corey asks when the elevator door closes.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because only witches wear capes,” he says.

“Witches are make-believe and besides, whoever heard of a witch named Miss Shirley?”

“Maybe,” Corey says like he’s thinking hard, “she’s a good witch.”

“Nope, no such thing as that either,” I say.

When Corey sees the old-fashioned iron we sometimes use as a doorstop when we throw the garbage out, he laughs. “Why you use your iron like that!”

“Shush, not so loud,” I say. “We have to be quiet, okay?”

I explain we don’t use it to iron clothes.

“My mother got one too. She don’t iron clothes with it either. She says I’ll just wrinkle them all up anyway.”

“Are you hungry?” I ask, not wanting to think about his mother.

Corey’s eyes light up. “Yes! Something yummy, please.”

The word supersister runs through my head and I let it. “Okay, coming right up,” I say. “Please, have a seat.” I sweep my arm through the air like they do on game shows when someone wins a prize.

“Dellie, do you know my birthday is gonna be here soon?” he asks before sitting.

“Really? How old will you be?”

“I’ll be six just like a big boy. Hey,” he says, looking around. “Where is everybody?”

“My mother is sleeping and my father is at work.”

“You got any sisters or brothers?” he asks.

Too many questions. Panic threatens me. I shake my head.

“Oh. Why you ain’t in school?” he asks me.

“ ’Cause,” I say, relieved when the panic goes no further. “I wasn’t feeling good this morning and my mother told me to stay home,” I lie. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“Because my mother didn’t feel like taking me. Where your daddy work at?” Corey asks.

“In a factory Down the Back.”

“Is he nice, Dellie?”

“Yeah, he is.”

“What’s it like?” he asks.

I’m searching inside the refrigerator for something Corey can eat. “What’s what like?”

He’s swinging his legs back and forth. “Having a daddy. What’s it like?”

“Um, I guess it’s just like having a mother.”

“Oh,” Corey says.

“Who’s this kid?” Corey asks, now standing in front of Louis’s picture.

“No,” I say when he reaches for the frame on tiptoe. “Don’t touch that!”

The sound of my voice makes Corey nervous. He tries to put the frame back, but the rosary beads get in the way and the frame falls to the floor.

I rush over too late. Oh, no.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Look, it’s okay.” Corey sounds scared. He picks up the frame. “It’s okay, right?” A small piece of glass has broken off. “It was an accident,” he says.

“I know. I didn’t mean to scare you. Can I have the frame?”

He holds the frame out and drops of blood fall to the floor.

“Oh my God, you’re bleeding. Let me see your hands.”

“No, I’m okay.” He hides his hands behind his back. “I’m not bleeding.”

“Yes, you are. Let me see.” I pull his hands out so I can get a good look.

He has two small cuts, one on his index finger and one on his thumb. They sure are bleeding a lot for small cuts.

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