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and Izzy. Izzy appeared to be standing onthe pew to see better. Sheba was smiling so big, it was like her face was made up of white teeth. She was wearing the blackwig that fell to her shoulders and had bangs, and had on a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, like what the librarian at schoolwore. Jimmy was in a baseball cap, glasses, and a button-down shirt and a tie, both of which must have belonged to Dr. Cone.The only other time I’d seen Jimmy hiding his furry chest was when we’d gone to dinner at Morgan Millard.

I didn’t wave, as I didn’t want to draw attention to them, but Izzy frantically waved to me until Sheba pulled her down ontoher lap. I winked. I smiled. I blinked my eyes. And then I glanced at my mother, who had turned in her seat to see what Iwas looking at. I was pretty sure she couldn’t see them through the heads in the seats, though. She would have recognizedIzzy and known that it was Jimmy and Sheba seated with her.

I sang the remaining three songs as if I were singing for Jimmy, Sheba, and Izzy alone. In my head, I could hear Sheba harmonizing. I could hear Jimmy’s bubbling-engine voice. I could even hear Izzy wobbling in and out of tune. I tried not to look at them too much, for fear my mother would get out of her seat and march to the back of the church.

When the service ended, I was the first one off my chair and out the internal side door to the basement where we hung ourchoir robes. Instead of going back up the stairs into the church, I took the door that went outside. The hot air slammed intomy face as I ran around to the front doors of the church. My parents always lingered in their pew and talked with the peoplewho sat near us. I’d have a couple of minutes to say hello to Jimmy, Sheba, and Izzy.

The glossy red double doors were open and people were spilling outside. As I was dashing up the marble steps, Mrs. Crangerstopped me. “Mary Jane, I knew that was you in the paper!”

“Oh yeah! Funny that I was there, wasn’t it?” I said without pausing.

But when I pushed my way inside, Jimmy, Sheba, and Izzy were gone. My stomach felt like it did a full rotation. My parentswere chatting their way down the aisle, my mother with her hand on the elbow of the blind man, Mr. Blackstone.

I turned and went outside. And then I saw the Cones’ station wagon pulled alongside the curb, running.

“MARY JANE!” Izzy hung out the open window, waving her arms to me.

I started to go to her when Pastor Fearson stopped me. He put his two hands over one of mine, as if he were warming my chilled fingers, and then leaned his head in toward me. “Mary Jane! What a surprise to see your picture in the paper!”

“Yes. That was a surprise.” I could hear Izzy’s little voice calling my name over the murmur of the congregation. People werenow filling the wide marble steps that led to the sidewalk. I looked around Pastor Fearson to the station wagon. Izzy motionedfor me to come to her.

But before I could move, my mother stepped in beside me and grasped my upper arm. “Mary Jane was the summer nanny for Dr.and Mrs. Cone. They took her to the record store.”

“And what a fortuitious trip that was!” Pastor Fearson released my hand. “I don’t know who that man was, but I loved Sheba’sshow. Watched just about every one.”

“Mary Jane! Come see me!” I heard. My mother’s head jerked toward the Cone station wagon. My father stepped between my motherand me. It was like the execution of a military maneuver.

“Pastor,” my father said, sticking out his hand for a shake. “We’ll see you next week.”

My father set one hand on my lower back and linked his free arm into my mother’s. He walked us, chained like that, throughthe crowd.

A horn beeped twice, quickly, and my mother, father, and I looked toward the station wagon. Sheba was at the wheel.

“Oh no,” my mother said.

My father moved his hand up to my arm. “I’m calling Dr. Cone when we get home. He needs to get his patients under control.”

We were on the sidewalk now. Walking toward our house. Sheba rolled the station wagon beside us. Izzy leaned out the window. “Mary Jane! Why won’t you come see me?!”

“What is wrong with these people?” my mother hissed.

My father’s fingers clamped on my arm. Sheba continued to drive slowly beside us. She and Jimmy were looking straight ahead,as if they just happened to be cruising this same street where we were walking. But Izzy hid nothing. Her arms hung out thewindow. She stared at us, her mouth open, her eyes wild with confusion.

We turned the corner, and so did the car. Sheba gunned the car so it was half a block past us, and then stopped. Jimmy gotout, walked around to the other side, and opened the back door. The engine was still running.

My father squeezed my arm and jerked me forward. My mother gasped.

I looked at Jimmy. He nodded and motioned with his head toward the car

“What do they want?” my mother asked. “Make them go away.”

My father yanked me harder. He quickened his pace. My mother’s pointed pumps made a clicking sound as she trotted to keepup.

And then, where the sidewalk curved around a massive elm tree, there was a raised buckle. My mother stumbled, and my fatherlet go of my arm to catch her.

And I ran.

“GO, MARY JANE! GO!” Izzy shouted.

I darted toward her voice, toward the open door. The car started moving and I dove in headfirst, Starsky and Hutch style.Jimmy jumped in behind me as Sheba tore away. Izzy tumbled on top of me, squealing and screaming and covering me with kisses.

The car zoomed down the street. Past my house, pretty as a postcard. Past

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