Billie Bob Taylor
I watched Benedito from the porch as he stood in front of his car for what felt like forever. I had no idea what the gang had said to him, but my spidey senses were tingling. By the way his shoulders were slumped and he constantly ran his hands over his face, I knew he was not alright.
Ma was still busy bringing food out so I knew I could steal a minute or two check up on him. The thought that I had just walked the distance to their cars a few minutes ago and had to do it again slightly irritated me. Why did they have to park their cars so dang far?
By the time I got to Benedito I had to swallow my gasp of exhaustion because the last he needed was me complaining about how far the walk was. He would think I would not cross seas for my Fofo if I could not make it to the driveway.
