Like Moonlight on Water: Prologue
May 1980
Welcome to my WiP! Start here for a chapter index and details on how I’m releasing this sequel to Daughters of Men.
Like Moonlight on Water opens with a flashback to ten-year-old Lila Givens—feisty, confident, and determined to disobey her grandmother. (And there’s a certain little boy she’s about to meet…YKIFYK.😉)
— Jennifer
Wilmington, North Carolina—May 1980
She was a meanie. Just hateful. She knew Mama would let me go once she woke up, and she knew Daddy had told me to go! I kicked at some weeds and little black seeds stuck to my wet sneakers. But I’d showed her! Snuck out while she was fixin’ her stinky old coffee, then started running. Gotten tired pretty quick, though. And tripped twice.
My knee had stopped bleeding, but it still stung. And my hands were dirty. And I was hungry. And I’d dropped my best notebook and scratched my favorite unicorn sticker—and it was all her fault!
A car whooshed by and then a truck. No bus, but no blue Buick, either. She probably hadn’t even looked for me. Which was fine by me. Just last night she’d told me I was three handfuls when God only gave her two hands. Like it was my fault if God couldn’t count.
I read the tall green sign one more time and looked at my watch. Snoopy was pointing at 7 and 3, and Daddy said kids got picked up at the end of Cathay Road. I pulled my socks up and smacked a mosquito. She couldn’t keep me home forever.
I missed school. I liked school. If she wouldn’t drive me, I’d get there all by myself.
White sparks zoomed and looped in the air. My angels knew, too! There were more than I’d ever seen at once—so many, it was like God had sneezed glitter. I was supposed to be at school.
Just then, a door opened across the street, and then another further down, and soon I wasn’t by myself anymore. I wished I was, though.
One girl had been in my second-grade class, but when I waved, she whispered to a freckled boy who stared like I had two heads. Didn’t like her anyway. She’d called me a know-it-all just ‘cause I could spell better than her. And her pink Barbie lunchbox was stupid. Wonder Woman was pretty and smart and could beat up bad guys.
A blue car sped past, and I jumped, making a couple of older girls laugh. I gave them such a look they shut up quick and moved out of my way. Waiting at the back was smarter. Mimi might be looking for me by now. Maybe. If she cared.
My angels liked it much better away from the other kids. They got real excited, like teeny little white fireworks. They were shooting all around me—and a boy with his mama and little sister. The boy’s hair was dark and messy like a dog had been licking it, and he had a skinned knee, too. I knew right away we’d be best friends.
His sister was fussy in her stroller, bigger than a baby but too little for school. He rolled her around in crazy fast circles until she giggled. The angels liked that.
But then the school bus showed up, squealin’ and rattlin’ and stinky and big. Really big. The boy hugged his mama and ran to it, and my angels followed.
The lady pushed the stroller closer to me. “Do you know my son?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Did you just move here?” She was smiling at me now.
“No, ma’am.”
“We did. Just last month.”
The little girl held her arms up to me. “Wiwa!”
“Aw, she likes you.” The lady bent to a side-pocket on the stroller. “I may have a Band-Aid for your knee…is this your first time riding the bus?”
I pretended I didn’t hear and got in line behind the other kids. When it was my turn, I climbed the steps and looked for an empty seat. Everyone was talking and yelling and climbing over bookbags. Maybe there was room at the back…
“Whoa there, girl.” The bus driver stuck out her arm. “And who might you be?”
“Lilith Ann.”
She frowned and pulled a clipboard from under her seat. “You new?”
“No, ma’am. My daddy usually drives me.”
She flipped through her papers. “You’re not on the list. Which school?”
“Pine Woods.”
“Teacher?”
I stared at her, my mind blank. Luckily, a bright blue angel sparkled above her frizzy head. “Mrs. Butler.”
The woman turned and hollered over all the noise, “Y’all hush up now! Who’s in Mrs. Butler’s class?”
My face burned as they all shut up and looked at me. A few rows back, the dark-haired boy stood.
“I am,” he said.
“This girl in your class?”
Before he could answer, a horn blared and my grandmother’s big old Buick roared up behind us. I thought about making another run for it, but quick as lightning Mimi was hauling me out, her hair up in rollers and a big brown wet spot on her fancy robe.
She hugged me then shook me. “How could you?! Get in the car. Now!”
“No! I want to go to school!”
Mimi snapped her fingers and pointed. “In the car. Now.”
“Daddy said I could!”
She pointed again and I stomped off.
“I’m so sorry we troubled you,” she was already telling the driver, “It’s been a hard couple of years, and I’m all she has, whether she likes it or not…”
I slammed the car door.
As we drove away, all the kids smooshed against the bus windows to gawk—all except the dark-haired boy.
