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Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-12_Miles_48_Stops-by_Robert_Steven_Williams.docx

“I’m not sure it’ll do any good.” Granny Jack held back tears. “What if he hasn’t changed?” ❊❊❊ After her shift ended, Davida stood with a handful of other African Americans, waiting for the bus. The dark velvet sky was vastly different from the dull haze over Billington, as if the stars only shone here in Riverside. When the bus arrived, she found a seat and rested her head against the cold window, the bitter aftertaste of Jermaine’s words still in her mouth. Mr. C was one of Billington’s drug kingpins. Whatever he wanted with her father, it just confirmed what she already knew. There was no way Willie was getting his act together, not now, not ever. When she got home, Granny Jack was watching a rerun of the Fresh Prince, a bowl of caramel popcorn in her lap. “We’re leaving Saturday,” Davida said. “But —” “Don’t let him stay. He’s only gonna bring bad people here. I know he’s your son, but you’ve got to face the facts.” Granny Jack shut her eyes and slowed her breathing with a technique she’d seen on Oprah. “I’m gonna tell you something I never told no one.” She dabbed her face with a Kleenex. Davida sat down. “All right, but it won’t change a thing.”


Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-12_Miles_48_Stops-by_Robert_Steven_Williams.docx
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