JUJU SAID THAT I might want to take it slow, just go up the block, around the corner, and back. But since my conversation with Miss Saunders, I know I can’t sit still no longer. I woulda went out yesterday, but Miss E had everything all wrong. Her grandma’s appointment was today. So, I waited. I wanted company, Cricket with me, in case I lost my nerve.

At the window, with her on my hip, I look out the blinds, then dig in my pocket for her Binky. It’s in her mouth when I look down at the jeans I got on. You could fit two people in ’em. It’s the same with my shirt. On my way out my bedroom, I untie my night scarf and sit it on the bed; slide a baseball cap on my head. Downstairs, I feel my stomach drop, my throat drying out. But I keep walking, thinking that if Miss Saunders’s life could turn out okay, so could mine.

Cricket’s strapped to my belly, faced out, when I shut the door, jiggle the knob. She coos, kicks, leans her head back—don’t mind me kissing her sweet brown lips. We a team again. Maybe if I get myself together, I can get her back. Be her mother like April woulda wanted.

I look up and down the block, double-check every car I see. In the middle of the street I stop to let a school bus pass. My heart beats double time. So, I breathe in and out the way JuJu and Miss Saunders taught me. But I still feel like running home.

Maleeka live ten blocks from here. No big deal at all. Bet after I show up, she’ll want to color or get her nails painted. I got everything in my backpack, plus a dozen glazed donuts. Swallowing spit, I hurry up, but don’t get far. A block away my feet feel heavy as buckets. Inside, I’m turning sad. That’s why I stop in front a daycare center. Me and Cricket get as close to the wall as the paint. “Go ahead.” I take her by the hand. “It’s okay.” She touch the green circle. Her little fingers slide over the yellow triangle and red apples. I name all the colors for her. Look back over my shoulder. Point out the seals and walruses, polar bear and penguins, and then look over my other shoulder again. I help Cricket trace a few numbers: three, five, ten, eight. “My mother was good at math. Maybe you are too.” I face the street ’cause I ain’t comfortable with my back to people behind us. I smack my forehead for letting Anthony get all up in my head.