Chapter 11: I a--, ..Almost There

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Davis's hurtful conversation with his mother drew him more into the dark side of 'cards'. Davis's childhood friend James has returned.
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The words landed heavier than if she'd raised her voice. Davis blinked, taken aback. "So that's what you think of me now?" he asked. "Disobedient?"

Mama Odie finally met his eyes. There was no anger there—just disappointment, which somehow hurt worse. "I think you're a smart boy who keeps hearin' good sense and doin' the opposite."

(Davis pov)
Man...

"Ma, you've gotta believe me, I'm your son, for chr—.." I sighed, as I continued to speak out only to temporarily stop myself, while the adults eyes were on me.

"Kids mess with me just 'cause they can. I stay quiet, I get walked over. I speak up, suddenly I'm the bad one." I explained, feeling frustrated and hurt. Mama sighed, folding her hands together. "Defendin' yourself don't mean you gotta burn the whole house down."

The room fell silent again, thicker this time. Mama Odie stood slowly and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I know it hurts," she said softly. "But anger ain't armor, baby. It's a weight. And I don't want you carryin' it so young."

I looked away, jaw tight, but my voice cracked just a little when he answered, "Then tell me what I'm supposed to do instead."

Not wanting to be seen with tears slowly falling down my face by people, I immediately walked away and sat outside on the brick steps, needing a moment alone. 'Damn! MY LORD.. have mercy!' I annoyingly muttered.

*2 days later- School*

While I was with my best friend, and brother-in-Christ, James, just enjoying the day, I got a little distracted, which he noticed.

"Davis, you alright?"

"D--Davis?!!" He loudly replied, gaining attention to himself as he said my name in front of the whole class.

"Hey.."

"Facil, what's up your butt?"

"Whaat!? Sorry, man, I was just thinking. But don't worry about it though."

(Belle pov)
'You are young. Naïve. You see goodness where there is danger.'

3 hours later(evening)....

The bakery was supposed to be closed.

The lamps were low, the windows fogged with sugar and heat, the smell of fresh bread clinging to the walls like a prayer that refused to leave. I moved softly behind the counter, sleeves rolled, hands dusted with flour as she shaped dough she didn't truly need to bake.

The bell over the door did not ring.

He knocked instead—twice, polite, hesitant.

I froze for a breath, then crossed the floor and opened the door just wide enough to let him in.

"Facilier," I whispered, eyes widen with both absolute surprise and yet

Davis stepped inside, removing his hat as though the room were sacred. "Miss Belle."

I smiled. "You can stay a moment. Uncle Frollo won't return until after evening prayers."

"A moment's enough," he said, though his eyes wandered the room, lingering on the warmth, the order, the safety of it.

Feeling awkward despite the friendly smile, silence stretches until I finally said, "Um--, I hope everything goes well."

Belle's hands curled into her apron. "That isn't God's doing."

"No," Davis agreed. "But they sure like usin' His name."

The silence returned, heavier now—but not uncomfortable.

"Come with me," Belle said suddenly. "Just for a little while."

Almost there, but who knows

(Davis pov)

"Davis, honey, would you at least show courtesy of joining us for dinner?" Odie pleaded, halfway entering his bedroom, where he lays on his bed. "I know you're hungry." She said as she watched him slowly getting up from his bed and walked to her.

*dinner*

"So, Davis, I heard that you we—-"

Mama Odie didn't look at him right away. Instead, she folded her napkin with careful precision, then said, almost to herself, "Blessed rather are those who hear the word of God and obey it."

He learned how to read a face before the hand was dealt. How a man's eyes flicked left when he lied. How fingers twitched when hope outweighed sense. Cards, he discovered, were a language—and Davis had always been good with languages.

It felt like freedom.

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