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piano now. Aunt Geneva said they had an estate sale. Said she didn’t want me going just to see people buying our old stuff. When I asked if we could keep the piano, she shook her head. We need the money, Jerome , she said. Raising kids does not come cheap. Soon as we can, Jerome, we’ll buy a new piano, a shiny black one, okay? And we’ll get lessons for you boys, that’s what we’ll do. Would you like that, Jerome? I didn’t answer because Mama was my teacher and Aunt Geneva had no business selling our piano that wasn’t even hers.
    I slip on my shorts, T-shirt, and shoes, and make my way down the stairs and out the front door. The air is warm and damp. Even in the dark I can see the old mansion. Mr. Willie’s piano might still be inside somewhere.
    I walk up to where the door used to be. To the right is a small window near the ground, filled with glass blocks. I pull at one of the blocks. It’s loose. Slowly I work it out with my fingertips, and set it on the ground. The one next to it is loose too, but all the rest are in there solid. I’m too big to fit through that small hole. I crouch down, cup my hands around my eyes, and look inside. Dressers and boxes, doors and screens. The piano could be in the back somewhere. It’s too dark to see. There’s a noise in the bushes behind me. I hold my breath. Could be a cat. Or a raccoon. There are lots of raccoons around. They usedto come into our garden at night and steal our tomatoes. I put the glass blocks back as quietly as I can.
    I cross the gravel parking lot to the carriage house. Mr. Willie is probably sound asleep in there. I can knock on the door and say Please, can I stay with you now that my mother passed? I don’t like sleeping in a crowded room with boys breathing next to me. I bet we can find a mattress somewhere. That’s all I need. A mattress and a plain white sheet. I tap lightly on the board across the doorway and wait. The only sound is a faraway train.
    What if Aunt Geneva wakes up and I’m gone? She’ll search the house. She’ll yell at Damon and Monte about how they treated me bad when it’s not even true. She’ll cry and say that her sister entrusted me to her, and now look what happened. Jerome never causes any trouble , Mama used to say. You can count on Jerome for that.
    I walk slowly down the hill and go in through the front door. When I get to our room, both the boys are still in their beds with their eyes closed. I lie down next to Monte and wait for the sun to come up.

10
    Mr. Willie is sorting stones into piles, big, medium, and small. “We’ll extend the wall over to this side.” He stands back. “It’ll look better that way, don’t you think?” He fills the bucket with new cement.
    “Who taught you how to build walls?” I ask.
    “Some things you learn by doing,” Mr. Willie says.
    I’m extending our garden toward the woods. Twice the shovel hits something and I think Okay, this has to be Bach , but both times it’s just rocks.
    A big white car pulls up the driveway and slows down in front of the For Sale sign. The people stay in the car, looking at the boarded-up mansion.
    “What if they buy it?” I ask.
    “Then it’s sold,” Mr. Willie says.
    “But where will you stay after that?”
    “You’ve asked me that before,” Mr. Willie says. He bends over, picks up a stone, considers, tosses it into the small pile.
    “You have to make plans,” I say. “That’s what my mother said. ‘You can’t blow with the wind, Jerome.’”
    “I know that’s right,” Mr. Willie says. He stands up straight for a minute. “But things don’t always go theway you think they will. In fact, most times they go the other way.”
    The white car pulls up a little, then stops again.
    “Mama planned on me being a musician,” I say.
    “My mother had the same plan for me. Miss Myrtle too. She’s the one who paid my tuition and got me the best piano teacher in the state of Ohio. In the whole country, I’m guessing.” He