“Wait up Jodi,”    Grandma called. “I need to fix his shoe!” She bent to slip Jeremy’s sandal back on his tiny foot. “I don’t know why your mom didn’t buy you shoes that fit, kiddo.” Jeremy swayed, standing on one foot while    Grandma tightened the strap. His bright blue eyes scanned the crowd, looking far away like he always seemed to. A sound like the page turning sound in the books Miss Jackson plays for us drifts down the street. Around us, a group of guys in jackets like Dad’s talk loudly to each other. Thick foam runs down their beer mugs and drips on their black motorcycle…