boy glanced at his dirty palms, then turned over his hands and furrowed his brow as if he’d just noticed how grimy they were.
As he headed for the restroom, Maria wondered what his story was. Yet even though she was curious about who was looking after him and tucking him in at night, she wouldn’t ask. After all, there wasn’t much she could do, other than offer him scraps of food. She was having a tough enough time looking after her own kids and certainly couldn’t afford to take in strays.
Especially since she’d once been—and still felt like—one herself.
After lunch, as Trevor sat in the swing, digging the toe of his tennis shoe into the sand, a shadow settled over him. He looked up and saw Analisa standing beside him.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked. “We’re going to be leaving soon, and I need you to do something for me again.”
“Climb the tree?” He couldn’t believe she was still leaving notes and pictures and stuff for God.
She nodded, then pulled out a folded envelope from her pocket. “I wrote another one last night.”
“Why do you keep doing that? He hasn’t been answering you.”
“He did once. You saw it. And the letters we leave are always gone the next day.”
“Anyone could’ve taken them.”
Analisa crossed her arms. “God took them. And He’ll answer every single one of them when He has time.”
How was Trevor going to get it through her head that this was a waste of time? God didn’t answer prayers. Trevor knew that; he’d prayed a ton of times and nothing had happened.
She stood there, that dumb letter in her hand.
Trevor should have told her no, but he took the note instead. “I’ll stick it in the tree, but I hope you’re not expecting an answer.”
“God’s just very busy, that’s all. How would you like to be in charge of the whole wide world?”
“If He’s that busy, why bother Him?”
“You can’t bother God, Trevor.”
The dumb little girl had an answer for everything.
“I’ll prove it to you,” she added. “What do you want? I’ll ask Him to give it to you.”
Trevor, who’d learned to keep his troubles a secret, wouldn’t tell her what he really wanted. But there was something else he’d really like to have. It was a long walk to the park, and he’d asked his dad for a bike last Christmas.
Absolutely not, his father had said. No bicycle. The way he’d said it made Trevor think no one but God could ever change his dad’s mind.
Trevor got off the swing and took her challenge. “Okay. I’d like a bike. A red one.”
Analisa grinned as though she and God were best friends. “Okay. Let’s pray.”
“Here?” Trevor scanned the park. “Are you nuts? No way.”
She reached out her hand. “It works best this way.”
“What way?” He merely looked at her.
“If we hold hands. A prayer works better when two or more people agree.”
So much for the bike. Trevor wasn’t going to hold hands with a girl. And he wasn’t going to pray out loud in the park.
“Don’t you want a bike?” she asked.
“Not that bad.”
Her arms were still crossed, and she shifted her weight to one foot like his mom used to do when Trevor did something to annoy her. “God doesn’t like it when people don’t believe in Him.”
Trevor looked over his shoulder, but didn’t see anyone paying attention to him or to Analisa. “Okay, but let’s go behind the tree.”
Analisa led him to the center of the park, and when he was sure they weren’t being watched, he let her take his hand.
This was so dumb.
She lowered her head and closed her eyes. “Dear God, please let Trevor have a bike. He needs to know that You love him and want him to have good things. Amen.”
As Trevor started to pull his hand away, she held on tight. “You gotta say it, too.”
“Say what?”
“Amen. It’s like saying good-bye to God.”
Oh, brother. “Amen. Okay?”
Analisa grinned as though everything was wonderful now.
Yeah. Right.
As Trevor turned to walk away, he shook his head. If a new red bicycle magically appeared on his front porch, then maybe he’d have to change his mind about God.
Of course, there were some things he needed a lot more than a bike.
But God—if He was up there—already knew everything about that.
And He hadn’t done anything about it.
Chapter 5
Even for a Saturday, the park had been pretty quiet. Trevor hung out until after the last kid went home, but why stay by himself here when he could do that at home?
He looked at the sun, saw it slipping lower than the big palm trees near the brick office building. He wasn’t all that good at guessing the time unless there were other things making it easy. Like the old guy who’d packed up his chessboard and was heading toward his red pickup.
It had to be way after five o’clock, so it was time to go—especially if Trevor wanted to beat Katie home, which he did. Some nights she worked really late, but this wasn’t one of them.
Besides, he was getting hungry even though he’d had more to eat for lunch today than he usually did. It was cool having a mom-made lunch for a change. Mrs. Rodriguez had cut the skin off the apples just like Trevor’s mother used to do.
It had been sad, too, and Trevor had gotten pretty quiet while they ate. That happened whenever he thought about his mom. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember what she used to look like, and he was afraid that when he got to be old like the chess-guy, he’d forget he even used to have a mom. That her hair had been blond. That she sometimes sang silly songs when she drove him to school. And that she smelled nice and kind of powdery.
Trevor blew out a sigh. Not having a mother sucked. Katie tried hard, but it wasn’t the same.
As he headed toward the apartment complex where they’d moved a couple of months ago, he kicked a half-crushed beer can along the edge of the road. His shoelaces flip-flopped from side to side, but he didn’t care.
If his dad was
