Don't Tell A Soul by Tiffany L. Warren

songs.”
    â€œSo you want me to leave my home while you work?”
    â€œIt’s going to be noisy. That’s the only reason I ask.”
    â€œI think I’ll stay tonight. Maybe I can write a song lyric or two.”
    Troy runs his hand over his head and sighs. “Pam, you don’t have to do that.”
    â€œNo, really, Troy, it’s no trouble at all. Let me get some snacks together, and I’ll be right in to join you. I wouldn’t want you saying that I’m not a supportive wife.”
    Troy looks confused but doesn’t try to persuade me any further. I snap my laptop shut and leave him in the living room. I wasn’t going to get any writing done with Aria in my house, anyway, so I might as well see what they’re up to.
    I open the refrigerator to see what I can scare up in a few minutes. I have thawed-out chicken tenderloins, vegetables, and flour tortillas that are about two days away from going bad. Couple those with some sour cream and cheddar cheese and we’ve got chicken fajitas.
    My son, TJ, peeks into the kitchen as soon as he hears pots and pans. Gretchen and Cicely tiptoe in, as well. They don’t have to sneak, but I guess things have been so tense around here for the past few days that even my babies are walking on eggshells.
    â€œAre you making fajitas?” Gretchen asks. “Can I help?”
    â€œOf course.”
    Gretchen’s face lights up, and she goes to the sink to wash her hands and put on her apron. Cicely, who couldn’t care less about cooking anybody’s meal, plops down on one of the bar stools.
    â€œSo, Mommy, have you talked to Auntie Taylor?” Cicely asks.
    I realize that it’s Friday and I haven’t talked to Taylor since last week at church. Yvonne, either, for that matter, and I need to get the details on her date. I’ve been so consumed with writing my new book proposal that I’ve lost a few days in my friends’ lives.
    â€œI haven’t talked to Taylor. Why?”
    Cicely’s eyes widen. “Oh, so you don’t know about Joshua?”
    I stop chopping the bell peppers and put the knife down on the cutting board. “What about Joshua?”
    â€œHe got arrested at school on Wednesday.”
    â€œThe blood of Jesus! Arrested? By the police?”
    â€œYes, ma’am. They came up to the school and put handcuffs on him and everything. Then they put him in the back of the car. Auntie Taylor was up there crying like somebody died.”
    â€œWhy did they arrest him?”
    â€œHe punched Ms. Golden in the mouth and knocked out her dentures,” Cicely explains.
    â€œI don’t believe that!”
    I wipe my hands and fumble for my cell phone. Gretchen takes over and heats oil in the big skillet for the chicken pieces. She really doesn’t need me for this at all. Thank God, because I need to talk to my sister. I step into my study and close the door.
    The phone rings three times. “Hi, Pam.”
    â€œTaylor, what is going on? Cicely just told me about Joshua. Why haven’t you called?”
    â€œI did call, but your phone went right to voice mail,” Taylor says in a quivering voice. “I spent the last couple of days trying to get my baby out of the juvenile detention center. Spencer was finally able to get him released a few hours ago.”
    â€œWhy did they arrest him? The story Cicely told me can’t possibly be accurate.”
    Taylor sighs, and there’s a long and pregnant pause. “Cicely was probably close to the truth. He’s got this teacher who doesn’t care for him, and she just won’t leave him alone. I guess he didn’t turn in an assignment, she chastised him, he talked back, and then she snatched him out of his seat. He doesn’t like people putting their hands on him, so he kind of lost it.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, he lost it?”
    â€œHe hit that old bat and knocked her dentures out, but she