"That's Donna Marie," he said.
I nodded and continued to look around the dingy room. "Where is your bathroom?"
"Upsta . . stairs. You got to go?"
"No," I said, smiling. "I just wondered. You do puzzles?" I asked, nodding at the boxes on the floor.
"Yeah, sometimes. Aft. . . after I do one, I take, take, take it apart and do it again."
I laughed, and he smiled.
Just then, the door of his room was pulled open, and a tall, lean, dark-haired man in a pale white athletic undershirt, jeans, and old slippers appeared. He was unshaven and had a square jaw with a cleft chin and a thin nose under a pair of dark brown, tired eyes that brightened with interest when he saw me.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked.
"I'm Raven Flores."
"Who's this, Clarence?" He smiled. "A girlfriend?"
"Nnnnn no," Clarence replied, turning a deep red. He glanced at me with terror.
"I'm just a neighbor," I said. "I'm living with my uncle."
"Who's that?"
"Reuben Stack."
His smile widened. "Reuben, huh? He never mentioned you. I work with him." He turned back to Clarence. "We was wondering why you didn't come back upstairs after you took out the garbage. It's time for dinner. I hate to interrupt," he said, smiling at me. "Come on back later, if you want."
"That's all right. I'll see you tomorrow, Clarence," I said.
"Sure you're not coming back tonight?" his stepfather asked. I ignored him and went to the door. His laughter followed me out.
I hurried back, feeling sorrier for Clarence than I did for myself. Where was this magical family in America, the one I saw on television? You can have parents and still be an orphan, I thought.
"Where the hell have you been?" Uncle Reuben asked when I entered the house.
"I just went for a walk."
"It's suppertime. You know you have to be here to help," he said.
I hurried toward the kitchen.
"Jennifer's already set the table," he said.
"All by herself?" I retorted.
"Don't get smart," he snapped. "Just help Clara bring in the food, and next time, you let someone know when you're leaving the house, hear?"
"Yes, sir," I said. I nearly saluted.
He stared daggers at me, so I continued into the kitchen, where Aunt Clara was busy getting the food into serving bowls. She worked quickly and quietly. I had the feeling Uncle Reuben had already blamed her for my not being there.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Aunt Clara, but . . ."
"Just take this in, dear," she said, handing me the bowl of mashed potatoes.
When I entered the dining room, I found Jennifer sitting back with a wide, self-satisfied smile on her face. William looked as meek and beaten down as ever, and Uncle Reuben sat in his throne, his big arms on the table, waiting like the king he thought he was.