pressed tan suit, wanted me to move somewhere in… Georgia.
We tried to fight him. Big Jon railed on for an hour about how we were common-law family. And as for me, I totally refused to go.
“No way am I going anywhere!” I cried. “I live here!”
But the lawyer just kept pointing to his papers. Next of kin. Custody.
“Listen here,” Big Jon said. “We don’t care about your laws. We love Alex, and we need her here.”
The lawyer cleared his throat. His tan pants had mud on the cuffs from his walk around the farm. He was a little, round bald man with tiny, smart eyes.
“I helicoptered in, you know,” he said carefully. “Alexandria’s grandmother has many, many resources. And I know a lot of people. I can keep them away, or I can bring them in. One call to the DEA. That’s all it’ll take.”
Big Jon put his hands in his pockets and was quiet for a moment. Then in a flash he pushed the books and cups off his desk onto the floor.
“You suits!” he yelled. “You don’t care about anyone. Don’t you see that’s all we want? A place where people take care of each other?”
But Mr. Karr wasn’t budging. “I can assure you,” he said, “that Alexandria will be well looked after. Miss Lee is a very well connected woman. And Alexandria comes from a long line of debutantes. It’s hard to understand outside of the South, but it’s a very tight sisterhood. They look after one another.”
“Debutantes?” Jon chortled. “Are you kidding me? What a crock of elitist crap.”
“One call and the farm is passed over for ten years,” said Karr. “Otherwise I’d put Alex on field-torching duty.”
Jon gave a final roar. He hugged me so hard that he didn’t even have to say he was sorry. Then he left the room.
“All right, then,” Mr. Karr said. “I’m going to get a little spa time in Napa. I’ll come back for you in three days.”
And that’s how my fate was sealed. No choices. No bargaining. Well, I guess there was bargaining. Because Big Jon managed to make himself a deal for ten more police-free years. And guess what? I was the price.
4
“Alexaaaaandria!” My grandmother’s voice pierces my pleasant, thick blanket of sleep like a harpoon. “The guuuuurls are hee-ah!”
I sit up with a start. The pot put me under. Way, way under. This is why I’m not really into it. I feel like there’s a brick tied to my face.
“Alexaaaaaaandria!”
“All right!” I yell back. I look in the mirror. Okay, I do look disgusting. Maybe it’s the weed, or falling asleep in the middle of the day, but suddenly my clothes look like rags. I can’t face going downstairs dressed like this to be judged by people I haven’t met and won’t like. My grandmother bought me a bunch of stuff, all still in bags lined up against the wall. I’ve been trying to ignore the clothes, but now I look in the first bag and instantly regret it: There are hundreds of dollars’ worth of things in there. Labels I’ve never heard of because I’ve never shopped anywhere other than the RC “mall,” which is just a closet full of hand-me-downs in the Main. Anything I needed—flannel shirts, an old sweater for warmth—was there. I got everything but my underwear from that closet.
I pick up a tank top and realize it’s probably the most expensive thing I’ve ever held in my life. I look through the bags and read the labels. Dolce & Gabbana—no clue. Marc by Marc Jacobs—even I know that one.
For the price of these clothes, my grandmother could have bought a cow for a village in Ghana. Ten cows! I should return all of these purchases right now and donate the money to Heifer International. Then I think about the people waiting for me, and I ditch my T-shirt for the Dolce sweater thing. With my cutoffs, it sends sort of an ironic mixed message, right? I fluff my dreads and jam my feet into flip-flops. Then, promising myself to return everything and donate the money first thing tomorrow, I head downstairs.
I have to say, every time I enter the main hall of the house, I get a bit breathless. My grandmother’s foyer looks a lot like the one in the plantation house where Scarlett O’Hara went to the barbecue in Gone with the Wind. That was Mom’s favorite movie. Actually, we never talked about it being her favorite; I just know