“You can ease the pain of a bee sting by rubbing it with basil,” Colt’s aunt said, her bracelets banging and clacking together heavily. “Where does your mother keep her fresh herbs?”
He didn’t know.
“I’m not surprised,” she said, looking through the cupboards. “If it isn’t frozen or microwavable, she wouldn’t have it. What does she feed you? Let me guess. Kraft dinner and hotdogs right?”
“Pizza on Thursdays,” he said. “Pepperoni.”
She smiled, and knelt down in front of him.
“Your mom won’t be gone long this time. I promise.”
She hugged him and hoped she was right.