Page 19 of Atticus
Carlisle, Sullivan, Bryant, Renee, and a few students are scattered here and there with their parents among metal picnic tables. Estimating a dozen is being generous.
Renee spots us and waves excitedly, then makes a beeline for us. “You came! I’m so glad. Come and get something to eat.”
The spread is even sadder than the lack of picnickers. Sullivan may be a decent middle school coach—or so I’m told—but he’s burned the hot dogs something fierce, undercooked the burger patties, and there’s a questionable potato salad, a jello salad, a regular salad—way too many salads.
“I brought banana pudding,” I offer tentatively, holding up a tray and deciding not to mention I’ve got two others chilled and waiting in my car, thinking there’d be a much larger turnout for this school-sanctioned picnic. “My mother’s recipe.”
“Looks delicious,” Renee squeals. “Go ahead and set it down at the end there.”
Reluctantly, I put my pudding down near the edge of the table. I almost want to apologize to it, being placed among whatever else this all is. At least I’ll have leftovers and can appreciate it myself, I guess.
“Not hungry?” Atticus muses as he remains next to me.
“Not especially,” I admit. “I’ll tell you later.” But I may not even have to. His pupils shutter like he’s zooming in on the food, scanning it, studying it.
And bless Atticus to the moon and back, he leans away from it with a slight frown.
“Gotta work on his poker face, or we’re all gonna be in some trouble.”
I turn. Trey Washington isn’t wearing his police gear right now, like he was earlier today during school hours, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him in regular clothes.
He smiles brightly at us both, offering his hand to Atticus. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine,” Atticus replies, accepting his handshake. “Yourself?”
“Not bad,” Trey replies, lowering his voice with a wry grin. “Hungry, but not bad.”
“You aren’t gonna eat?” I ask, making sure Sullivan, Bryant, and Carlisle are too busy talking to overhear us. It sounds like they’re discussing sports and don’t really appear bothered by the lack of people.
“I’d rather not spend the evening worshipping the porcelain god,” Trey says out of the corner of his mouth, giving Atticus’s shoulder a gentle clap. “Thankyouverymuch.”
“The porcelain god?” Atticus mirrors our voices, not speaking too loudly.
“He means getting sick,” I explain, trying not to giggle at how innocent Atticus remains. He’s caught on to so many turns of phrase this past month, but every day, he learns something new.
“Oh. Yes.” He nods at me in concern. “Please don’t get sick. I’d prefer you remain healthy.”
“Don’t we all.”
Renee waves me over, so I make my way to sit with her. Behind me, I hear Trey striking up conversation.
“That BioNex uniform you’re wearing is a bit basic. I think we’re close to the same size, and I got a closet overflowing with clothes that I don’t even wear anymore. You interested?”
“That’s very generous,” Atticus says with mild surprise. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Please. You’re doing me a favor.”
Reassured Atticus is in good company and I don’t have to worry at the moment, I sit across from Renee. She makes a face, noting I don’t have a plate with me.
“I had a late lunch, so I’ll wait a bit before eating,” I say. “Where is everyone?”
“Oh, people don’t usually come to the annual school picnic,” Renee laments. “I send the emails and the reminders and post on our school social media, but nobody really seems interested these days. Too busy working or whatever else.”
“That’s really sad.”
“I know,” Renee says. “But what can we do?”
I think on that for a moment, observing the students as they huddle together, staring mindlessly down at their smartphones. “Do you like doing the social media?”
