IT’S MALEEKA’S FAULT. We talked three days in a row, even this morning before the sun was up. She start school tomorrow. The building is brand-new. The kids get new laptops and free bus passes. No more than twelve kids gonna be in a room. I think she lying when she say they got a chef.

Maleeka make me want to go to school and back home. “Call your sister,” she told me, “maybe she’ll let you come back and bring Cricket too.” It took me six days to get up the nerve. But I think she’s right. What choice I got? I’m down to no money at all, and the milk’s gone.

“JuJu? It’s me. Char.”

“Oh, like I don’t know that?”

“I—”

Do I know how worried she’s been? she says. How could I be so selfish? My being gone made her have to lie to our grandparents about why I never made it there because she did not want to give them a heart attack worrying over me.

I hold the phone far from my ear and stare at it. “I’m sorry.”

“You still got that baby?”

“Yes.”

“She better be gone when I get there, Char. I’m not raising somebody else’s child.”

“Well, that’s what I was calling about. Can I—”

She tells me to hold on. She has to get a pen, paper. I hear her talking to somebody, complaining about me. When she back on the phone, it just comes out. “You don’t need to come, JuJu, I’m fine.”

“How you fine? You sixteen, a dropout, homeless, with a baby that’s not yours.” Seem like she brings up every bad thing I done since my parents passed. “Your teacher called, checking—”

“Miss Saunders ain’t my teacher no more.”

“I told her everything. Call her, Char—maybe she can talk some sense into you.”

Sometimes firecrackers go off inside of me. Bombs. I’m surprised that the walls don’t crack when I scream at her. “Don’t! Tell people my business!”

I scared Cricket. She crying, screaming. I walk past her anyhow. “So, I screwed up. I’m not the only one in the world that’s done bad things!” I step on the blanket and squat. “Shut up, Cricket!”

“See, I told you. You can’t—”

I walk back and forth across the room. “I’m trying, JuJu! You should be here, then you would see how really, really hard I’m trying.”

Seem like she ain’t heard a word I said. “I know what city you in. Just give me the address, Char. I’m coming—”

“I got a job—cleaning. You know I’m good at that. It’s at a hotel. They gave me a room for free. The baby gets to go to work with me.”

“Her mother is taking advantage of you. Somebody else probably is too. You not as tough as you think.” She’s quiet for a long time, same as me. “What’s the use? You gonna do what you want anyhow. What you doing for money? I can wire you some.”

“I’m cool.” I smile when I want to cry. “They pay good. I’ll get a raise soon ’cause I clean better than anybody here.” I sit at my desk. Pull out my coloring book. Try to calm myself.

“Char—”

“Bye, JuJu.” I hang up. And call him.

It’s his voice mail I get, not him. I call three more times before he gets back to me. He out of town. Meet his driver at The Fount, he tell me. I get dressed and out the door, fast as I can.