Out of the Easy

by Ruta Sepetys

Like many in New Orleans, Willie was particular about her coffee.

I didn’t believe in it, but I did have a gris-gris bag in my purse that Willie’s witch doctor insisted I carry.

“Go to the side door,” I told Randolph. “What’s the new password?” he asked. “Mr. Bingle sent me.”

The street was covered with remnants of celebration. Trash Wednesday, they called it.

Shelves without books were lonely and just plain wrong.