Born Blue by Han Nolan Page B

show. Anyways, he were just sixteen his own self and I told him so.
    He said, "The only reason I'm in the choir is because I play the trumpet, and because I'm learning how to direct."
    "That ain't no good reason. Only reason to be in the choir is if you can sing good, and I can sing real good, so I should be in the choir more than you."
    Mrs. James told us not to argue about it no more. She said I could go and audition and let Brother Clevon
decide which choir I belonged in. I could tell by the way she gave the eye to Harmon, she figured I'd get put with the babies and that would be that.
    On the way to the church Harmon told me that Brother Clevon be a real grouch and acted like he owned everybody and didn't care what ugly thing he said to somebody when they singin' something wrong. Harmon said sometimes he even got people crying they so upset at what he said.
    I told Harmon that no grouch gonna scare me or make me cry 'bout nothin', and anyway, I sing real good, so he don't gotta worry. "Don't you remember how good I sing, Harmon?" I said.
    He said, "Yeah, I remember. But that was a long time ago, and Brother Clevon wants adults. You're not yet thirteen."
    "I gonna be thirteen in a few weeks, and anyways, I got a adult voice."
    Harmon shrugged like he saying in his mind,
Whatever. You ain't gettin' in, anyway.
    We got to the church and I looked out my window when we was pulling into the parking lot. I saw the biggest, cleanest brick building I ever seen. Harmon said the church had a cafeteria, a theater, and a gymnasium. Didn't sound like no church I ever heard of.
    We got out the car, and right away I heard music coming from inside the building, only it weren't no gospel, were jazzy.
    "Hey!" I said. "Listen to that. Why didn't you tell
me? This gonna be better than I thought." I started cross the lawn but Harmon grabbed my arm.
    "That's not the choir," he said. "That's Mark's group. You don't want to get too friendly with them."
    "Yeah? And how come?" I stood on the lawn with my hands on my hips, feeling the wet of the grass sinking into my little-girl tennis shoes Mrs. James got me wearing.
    "They're part of the after-school program they have here for kids and teens who have nowhere to go. They're a wild bunch, that band. Preacher Walter lets them practice here to keep them away from the little kids at the gym, but they're trouble, anyway. One guy set off the fire alarm at the church last week."
    "So?"
    Harmon closed his eyes like my stupidness were too much to take in. He opened them again and said, "So there wasn't a fire and the whole fire department had to come to the church. It costs the taxpayers money every time they've got to go out, you know. What if there were a real fire somewhere else? They'd have all been here and someone's house would have been burning up."
    I were gonna say something sassy to Harmon, but I heard the band behind us playing something new and I hushed to listen.
    Without even thinking I turned away from Harmon and walked on toward the music. Harmon followed me and we walked across the lawn, following the sound. And I could feel myself walking to the rhythm, slinkin' along
like a black cat looking for some leg to rub against. The music had that kinda sultry, mellow sound.
    Round the back of the church, we come on the band set up on a porch that had glass windows you could prop open, leaving just screens. They was all playing their instruments, and they had their eyes closed or their heads bent low and their instruments up close to their bodies, and they was just feeling the music deep in. Me and Harmon, we standing, watching, and they didn't see us there. They went on playin' maybe ten minutes, and the music got smokin' and I got groovin' to it, moving my hips, my shoulders, my head, and Harmon said in my ear, "Look at you, thang."
    I smiled and banged his hip with mine. Felt good to like Harmon again.
    Then other choir people got showing up and the jazz band stopped playing, but I gave that