Let’s go get ice cream.”“Sail and mast in Number 5 locker, rudder and board in the starboard hull, and the lines in the locker. Bring me back a ...��nanna split.” She dove a hand in a jeans back pocket and came out with a five. “A five scoop ... I’ll split it with the cats.”“Ya know, Tyke, you’re not supposed to know addition until first grade.”“I know ... school is going to be a drag.”“We’ll have to see about that.”“Thank you. Auntie Surprise.”JW knew Tyche wasn’t thanking his sister for the boat. Mama would probably comment on that fault as well. His voice, no matter how consonant the intonation, was always scornful. He was the one she couldn’t escape. No matter how many times she fled for the care of another, no matter how many shoulders she cried on, or how many friends claimed her, she returned. She returned because he was more abusive than any physical pain, and subconsciously, she liked this. He sat on the edge of a splintered table, while the dim lights flickered overhead. His. More

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