Sage arrived 10 minutes early, as usual, out of breath from running the last block. Della led her upstairs, dropped the duffel bag by the bed, then dragged her back down to the kitchen. “I have something for you,” she said, bouncing from one foot to the other.
Della took a little brown bag from the counter, still warm, and handed it to Sage. Inside was a gooey, golden-brown chocolate chip cookie. Sage bit straight into its soft center and grinned.
“It’s delicious, Della. I didn’t know you bake!”
Della smiled. “I’m learning from a neighbor. She likes to invite kids over to her house to bake. She always wanted to have a house full of children, but she couldn’t have any kids. That’s why she’s happy when other kids come over to her house to hang out.”
By this time Sage was almost done with the cookie. Taking her last bite, she said, “She sounds nice. What’s her name?”
“Mrs. Okafor. Maybe we could go over to her house tonight.”
Sage flinched and choked. “Mrs. Okafor, are you serious?”
“Yeah, how else could I have made up a name like that? Why, do you know her?”
“Of course I know her. My brother Jeff and I knew her husband too. When they first moved in, we brought a gift over to their house to welcome them, just like mom taught us to do. Mr. Okafor wouldn’t even open the door for us, screaming at us to go away instead. Another time, we picked a couple of apples from their tree that grew over the fence, and their dog chased us all the way to our driveway. I won’t go near that house.”
“Mrs. Okafor told me that, when her late husband was going through chemo and radiation for his cancer, he had to shoo every kid away. It broke her heart every time. Now that both her husband and her dog are gone, Mrs. Okafor wants kids to come help her fill the empty house.”
Sage frowned, opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again.
“What do you want to say?” Della pressed.
Sage stared out the window. She took so long to respond that Della thought she might have missed her question. She was about to repeat herself when Sage said, “Maybe it takes longer to really understand somebody.”
Della answered, “Yes, it was the same way with us. It took us a while to get to know each other, but now we’re best friends. So, do you want to go or not?”
“No, and maybe you shouldn’t go either. I really shouldn’t have eaten that cookie, Mrs. Okafor could have poisoned it or put bugs in the batter.”
“I go to bake every weekend. The cookies are always delicious, and I never get sick,” Della countered. “I think you are just jealous I made a new friend.”
Sage made a face but said nothing. Della smiled. “Don’t worry, Sage. Even if I have a thousand friends, you’re still my best friend.”
Della patted herself on the back, feeling proud of what she just vowed to Sage. Her first act of keeping this promise was to call Mrs. Okafor to cancel – they were tired, she said.
“No problem,” Mrs. Okafor said. “I’ll see you next time.”
Della glanced over at Sage, expecting some response. Sage did not meet Della’s eyes. Instead she looked down at the notebook in which she was doodling. She is probably tired from running, Della thought. She has never been very athletic.
Sage had started sketching a flower garden, similar to the one Della’s mom planted outside. It amazed Della how Sage could just start drawing and make something beautiful. Della wished that art could be as effortless for her as it was for Sage. Sighing, she picked up the half-finished scarf she was making for her grandma and started knitting.
During the next hour, Della and Sage sat in silence. Each pretended to be focused, glancing at the clock on the dresser every minute. Della’s knitting was warping wider on the edges, while the hole in the middle grew larger with every round. Finally, Della ripped out the needle and unraveled the scarf.
“I can’t do this,” she grunted.
“You still got a few weeks before your grandma’s birthday,” Sage said.
“Thanks, Sage,” Della replied. She started casting on stitches to begin again.
After a moment, Sage said, “You probably won’t believe me, but I actually saw Mrs. Okafor earlier, just before I came to your house.”
“Really?” Della asked, curious.
“Yes. She was at the cemetery, putting flowers on her husband’s grave.”
Sage paused, swallowed, and continued. “All of a sudden I heard her scream and run. When I turned, I saw a spider spinning a web on the wall beside Mr. Okafor’s grave. Spiders scare me, and I think Mrs. Okafor is afraid of them too. Then something started crawling up my arm, so I screamed and ran all the way to your house. As I was running, I could hear some second or third grade boys giggling behind the bushes.”
Sage shivered, and Della could see goosebumps on her arms. Sage looked at the floor, her face flushed with embarrassment. After a moment, Della said, “That’s awful. Can we do something about it?”
Sage showed Della her notebook. She had not sketched Della’s mother’s garden after all. Instead, Sage had drawn a detailed map of the cemetery, including the roses and gardenias that grew there. “We could ask the gardener to borrow the hose, and we would help him water the plants in exchange,” Sage said. “Nobody liked to clean up the dog mess or deal with kids underfoot anyway, so he would be glad to have our help. Then, when the kids with the spiders come again, we hydroblast them.”
“Okay,” Della said. She studied Sage’s drawings and marked out a few spots where they could hide with the hose. Since Sage already knew every detail by heart, Della borrowed the notebook and spent the rest of the evening memorizing the map.
The next morning, Sage woke Della up at 5:30 AM, in order to meet the gardener when he started work at 6:00. The gardener, glad for the help, handed off the hose and disappeared into the shed.
They spent the next half hour clearing trash from the graves. Sage insisted they sort the cans for recycling. Although Della rolled her eyes, she did it anyway.
Della was relieved when all the trash were finally sorted. They started watering the plants. It was past 7:00, and the boys could come any minute now, Della thought. Or they may not come at all today. How long could they wait? Della yawned.
In the next second, Sage pulled Della behind some bushes and said, “There they are!”
Della followed where Sage pointed and saw three small figures, one pudgy, one medium-sized, and a third skinny, walk up to Mr. Okafor’s grave. They were giggling. The medium-sized boy took out something wriggly in his bag and Sage took the hose. Pointing it at the boy with the spiders, she was about to turn it on when he saw her. The boy threw a spider in her direction, and it landed on Sage’s cheek and started crawling. Sage screamed, dropping the hose. The three boys laughed.
Della brushed the spider from Sage’s face, grabbed the hose, and turned the water up. Using one hand to steady Sage’s arm, she put her best friend’s hand over the hose and her other hand on top. Together, they aimed the hose at each laughing face, hydroblasting the boys until all of them ran away, shrieking.
Della turned off the hose. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Sage nodded. “Thanks for saving the day,” she said.
“No, we did it together,” Della insisted.
After a moment, Mrs. Okafor approached the cemetery, carrying flowers. Della saw Sage move behind a bush and followed, making no sound. The older woman looked up and down the path, checking for both human and insect intruders. Seeing no one, Mrs. Okafor knelt down by her husband’s grave, laid out the flowers, said a short prayer, and left.
Della was about to give Sage a high five when she saw her friend staring at a gravestone about five feet away, her eyes glistening with tears. Swallowing hard, Sage said, “We buried my brother here two years ago.”
Sage crumpled onto the wet grass and started to cry. Della opened her mouth, about to repeat something her mom used to say to her dad when grandpa died, but closed it again. Instead, she walked over to her best friend. She put her arms around Sage’s shaking body and gave her a long hug.