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“It’s kind of a long name, so I’ll write it first, then you copy it, ’k?”
I nod. That’s what Momma does for me too.
“You can write out the name of the band though. It’s easy. Kansas.”
I watch him carefully write in big bold letters across the page—right where I’d left off: WAYWARD SON.
I have no idea what that first word means, but I carefully sound it out. And he spelled sun wrong, but I don’t tell him that. I don’t want the claws to come out.
“Like where Dorothy’s from?” I say instead, wrinkling my nose.
He huffs what might be a laugh—it’s very, very short and rumbly. “Yup. Kansas like the state.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
I shrug.
He hands me the pen back. “There you go. ‘Carry on Wayward Son.’”
I look up at him and say, “Pennsylvania would be a really stupid band name.”
His eyes fly open and he snorts. Nodding, he rubs a big hand across his beard. “You’re not wrong, kid. Not wrong at all.”
I’m about to ask him what wayward means when Momma calls for me. “Mason?”
The big, hairy man steps to the side, turning to face Momma as she joins us.
Her face brightens, her mouth opening. “Hi Ga?—”
“Momma, have you ever heard of Kansas?” I rush out, cutting her off. “The band, not the state.”
“Yes, Mason. I know Kansas.” Her lips twitch with a smile. “Did you thank him for helping you?”
I whip around and look up at the big, hairy man. “Thank you, sir,” I say in my tough voice.
He gives me a wink and says just as tough, “Anytime.”
“This can’t possibly be Mason!” I turn back around just as the lady with long black hair approaches. She looks down at me, smiling so hard, little lines sink in around her mouth and eyes. “He’s all grown up.”
My forehead wrinkles. “I’m only six and a half.”
They laugh, even the man next to me, though he sounds like a rumbly bear.
“Those eyes!” she says, turning toward Momma. “Pictures didn’t do them justice.”
Momma gets a bashful sorta look about her face. “I’m so?—”
The lady holds up a hand. “No more sorries.”
Momma nods, and the lady smiles down at me once more. “You don’t know me, but I’m Linda. I own this place. Your mommy used to hang out here with her friends when she was younger.”
“Music’s a little different this time around,” Momma teases.
The lady, Linda, waves a hand at the man next to me. “That’s all him. This is what I get for giving in and getting one of those new-agey jukeboxes.”
“Just trying to roll with the time, Lin.”
