Response by Paul Volponi Page A

instead.
    Mom was a wreck, sobbing almost the whole time.
    And anybody would have believed it was her mother that was sick and not my father’s.
    Then Dad walked in and she buried her face in the shoulder of his blue conductor’s shirt.
    â€œLord knows, this family’s seen enough of hospitals in the last four months,” said Dad, who had to stay with his train till it reached the end of the line after he’d got my message. “But if I could, I would have sprouted wings to get here faster.”
    I stood up straight, looking him in the eye.
    He felt the wet patch of tears over my heart, from when I’d been holding Mom. Then Dad put his hand behind my head, pulling me in close.
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    By the time Thanksgiving came, Grandma was back on her feet, and to celebrate we had a big dinner at our house. Deshawna and Destiny Love were there. Deshawna’s dad was invited, too. That was the first time we’d all mixed together around a holiday dinner table, like one big family.
    I noticed that Deshawna’s dad treated me better in front of my family than he did over at his house.
    â€œPlease pass me over those fried peas,” he said, proper. “Thank you kindly, young man.”
    That’s when I started to wonder if it was possible I could just talk to him over here on holidays and nowhere else.
    Mom found an old picture book from when I was young for Destiny Love to look at. It had drawings of the pilgrims and Indians at the very first Thanksgiving. I remembered that book. When I got a little older I played cowboys and Indians, and I always wanted to be the cowboys. Then one day in sixth-grade history class it hit me how the Indians were just like black people. They got pushed off their land and shoved into places where white people didn’t have to see them. After that, I never rooted for the cowboys to win again. Instead, I wanted to see them all get scalped.
    â€œCome here, Noah,” Grandma called out after dinner, with the stripped carcass of a twelve-pound turkey in the center of the table. “You and I got a right to give special thanks for still being here. I guess God’s not through teaching either one of us yet. We still have lots of blessings coming our way. Now grab on to the other end of this wishbone. Pull as hard as you can. Your grandmother still has some strength left in her.”
    â€œAmen!” hollered everyone, almost all at once.
    I didn’t know what to wish for, and my mind couldn’t focus on any one thing.
    When that wishbone split in two, Grandma had the bigger half in her hand.
    â€œDon’t fret,” Grandma told me. “My wish had to do with good things coming your way, child. With lots of understanding for people.”
    I needed it, too, because I didn’t know how to look Mr. Hendricks in the face anymore. He kept that smug grill on all the time during PE now, like I should bend down to kiss his feet for what he did.
    Everybody at school knew about him saving Grandma. And one day in the locker room, Bonds and me heard Spanky running his mouth to his friends about it.
    â€œI hear Hendricks got himself a new housemaid,” cackled Spanky, from a couple of rows of lockers away. “That’s the way it works, right? You save somebody’s life and they owe you. It’s like they’re your personal slave now.”
    My blood boiled inside my veins.
    I slammed my locker shut, pretending Spanky’s melon-head was between the door and the doorjamb.
    â€œBetter ask somebody for the address of the state pen!” barked Bonds. “You’ll be visiting your fat-ass cousin there soon.”
    â€œI should be able to get it from anybody that’s black,” Spanky shot back. “Half their family’s usually locked up.”
    I just kept my mouth shut and let Spanky and his whole Hillsboro crew clear out of there before I finished getting dressed.
    I had to deal with it at home, too.
    â€œI phoned