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“Well . . . ?” prompted Alethea. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m trying to figure out why someone would hate me enough to want to do this,” said Gutsy.
“Maybe it wasn’t something about you,” suggested Spider. “Maybe it was someone who was mad at your mom.”
“Why would anyone be mad at her?” demanded Gutsy. “Mama was a nurse. She helped people.”
“Everyone has enemies,” said Alethea.
“Mama didn’t.”
“Look,” Spider said patiently, “just because your mom was nice doesn’t mean everyone automatically liked her.”
“Being a wonderful person doesn’t mean everyone likes you,” said Alethea. “Or has to like you. I’m nice, but some girls make fun of me ’cause I’m not rail thin.”
Spider looked thoughtful. “You’re ‘nice’? Is that really the right word?”
Alethea gave him the raised eyebrow of doom. “Would you like to limp for a month? No? Then hush, because grown folks are talking.”
Spider mimed zipping his mouth shut.
“Mama, though,” persisted Gutsy. “I’ve never heard anyone say a word against her.”
“They wouldn’t,” agreed Alethea. “Not to your face. Maybe not to her face.”
The conversation stalled there for a while.
After a short time, Alethea sat back and dabbed at hot sauce at the corner of her mouth. “Are you going back to the cemetery tomorrow to see if someone messed with the grave again?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m going too.”
“We’re all going,” said Spider. Gutsy did not argue. She was happy that they would b
e coming with her.
“There has to be an answer,” said Alethea. “We’ll figure it out.”
But they didn’t figure it out that night.
When everyone started yawning, Alethea asked, “Do you want us to stay?”
“No,” said Gutsy. “Besides, if you’re not back for head count, you’ll get in trouble with the Cuddlys.”
“Who cares?”
“I do.” She hugged Alethea, then Spider, and walked them to the door. “Thanks, though.”
Alethea nodded at Sombra. “You keeping him?”
“If he wants to stay, then sure,” said Gutsy.
“He probably has fleas.”
“Fleas can be handled.”
Alethea smiled and shook her head. “You think everything can be handled, don’t you?”
