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food: spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs, bread, and green peas. We took some and passed the bowls to Luther.
    “I can take you down to the egg-buying station tomorrow,” I told Luther. “Mr. Landen’s nice.”
    Luther looked at Mom, and she didn’t say I couldn’t, so he said, “Thank you, Charlie. I’d appreciate that.”
    I liked the idea that Luther might settle down around here. Maybe he’d give me some more pointers about baseball, and maybe sometime he could show me how he built his lean-to.
    It was good having him here.
    But that good feeling didn’t last long. Because right then, Vern Jardine walked through the front door.

Chapter Three
    Hello! Mary?” Vern called from the living room.
    Mom froze a second. Then she cleared her throat. “In the kitchen, Vern.”
    I whispered to Mom, “Why don’t he knock?” and she waved at me to be quiet.
    Footsteps clomped across the wood floor in the living room. “Thought I’d surprise you. I didn’t think I’d get here tonight, but I sold all the—”
    Vern stopped in the kitchen doorway and his smile faded. He was wearing the wrinkly tan suit he wore a lot, and his hair was messed up. He stared at Luther.
    Mom stood up and her hand went up to her collar. “Oh—Vern, this is a friend of Charlie’s,” she said. “Luther—what did you say your last name is?”
    “Peale, ma’am,” Luther said. He looked back and forth between Mom and Vern.
    Mom was nervous. Her hands fluttered around her neck and hair like a couple of butterflies. “Yes, that’s right, Luther Peale.”
    I realized that I was feeling jittery, too, and it made me mad. What was I nervous about? So what if Vern didn’t like colored people? This wasn’t his house.
    Mom’s smile at Vern was crooked. “And Luther taught Charlie some things about baseball today.”
    Vern stared at Luther, his jaw set hard. “Can I talk to you privately, Mary?” he asked.
    “Sure.” Mom hurried after him into the living room. The front screen door banged shut, but we could hear them talking fast and whispery clear out on the front stoop.
    Why did Vern have to show up now, just when we were all having a good time?
    I tried to drown out the sounds by talking, and the words were flying fast out of my mouth.
    “So I’ll take you to the egg-buying place tomorrow,” I told Luther. “It’s not very far from here. Maybe six blocks or eight blocks away, so we’ll just walk down there—”
    “I better be goin’, Charlie,” he said quietly. He stood up and picked up his cap that he’d put on the table next to him.
    “No, Luther, don’t go.”
    Vern’s voice was getting louder, and we could hear what he was saying to Mom. “You asked him to sit right down and
eat
with you?”
    “Vern, he’s Charlie’s friend,” Mom said.
    “I’m just concerned about you and the boy,” Vern said. “You know that.”
    Luther picked up his bag near the table. “You tell your mama I’m much obliged for the spaghetti.”
    “But you hardly ate any!” I said, jumping up from the table. “Luther, don’t go. I hate Vern.”
    The gears in my brain were whirring around like crazy, and my head was pounding with the banging of my heart.
    “It was good to meet you, Charlie,” he said. “I’ll see you.” Then he was gone out the door.
    “Luther!” I yelled. “Come back!”
    But Luther was already walking across the grass and into Mrs. Banks’s yard near the shed at the back. I ran out the door and followed him.
    Mom yelled from the back door. “Charlie! Where’re you going?”
    “I’m going to talk to Luther!” I yelled at her.
    “No, Charlie!” she hollered. She came running and caught up with me in the yard behind ours. She took my arm, but I shook her off. I was so filled up with anger I couldn’t hardly talk.
    I saw Mrs. Banks standing at her back screen door, but I didn’t care.
    “I hate Vern!” I yelled. “I hate him!”
    A look of misery came into Mom’s eyes. “Charlie, you come