Page 81 of From Nowhere

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know yet. My Realtor said she’d know more on Monday.”

“Maren’s here!” Lola calls two seconds before barreling down the stairs, wide eyed and out of breath.

Ozzy jumps away from me just in time.

“Bandit’s probably under my bed. I’ll get him.” Lola runs straight to her room.

“Someday I’ll teach her manners.” Ozzy rolls his eyes.

Lola drags Bandit out from under her bed and cradles him like a baby, and for whatever weird reason, that kitten lets her hold him like that. “Maren, I really like your hair,” she says.

I quickly glance at Ozzy because he called my pigtail braids a weave. “Thank you,” I say.

Lola kisses Bandit on the head, and it will break my heart to take him from her. “My mom used to braid my hair,” she says.

“I bet your beautiful curls look amazing in a loose braid.” I smile.

She shrugs as Ozzy gathers the cat supplies. “I don’t know. Dad can’t braid and neither can Nana.”

“I just haven’t tried.” Ozzy attempts to defend himself, dumping the cat litter into a trash bag.

“He says he needs to watch a video,” Lola tries to whisper, but I know Ozzy hears her because he slowly shakes his head, tying the trash bag.

“I could teach him,” I say.

Lola perks up. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“Now?”

“Lola, it’s late,” Ozzy says.

She deflates. “It’s the end-of-the-year track-and-field day tomorrow. A lot of my friends will have their hair braided.”

“I’m excellent at ponytails,” Ozzy says, setting the bag of cat supplies by the stairs.

“What time do you leave for school?” I ask.

Lola looks to Ozzy for an answer. He eyes her as if she should know, then says, “Seven thirty.”

“I’ll be here at six thirty to braid your hair before I go to work,” I say, taking Bandit from her.

“For real?”

I chuckle. “For real.”

“Oh my gosh! Did you hear that?”

Ozzy nods. “Yes. I’m not deaf. That’s very nice of Maren.”

“Well, I’d better go so you can get to bed.” I reach for Bandit’s bag, but Ozzy picks it up.

“Lola, I’m going to help Maren take things out to her car. I expect you to be in the shower by the time I get back inside.”

“Good night, Lola,” I say.

“Good night,” she says, slapping her bare feet on the hard surface toward the bathroom.

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