CHAPTER 2
AT HOME

Mira took her usual seat by the window. She’d been riding the bus alone for years. Home was only about five miles away, but it felt like another world. She watched the huge, fancy school go by. Then went the wide, pretty streets of Bloomfield Hills.

The houses here were like palaces. Many of them were brick and stood way back from the road. They had huge, perfectly tended gardens and circular driveways. She loved looking at their stained glass windows and the huge maple trees in the yards. Addie said they were 1920s style houses.

Before Mira came to this school, she could hardly imagine what went on inside houses like that. Now she’d been inside some of them. She was even shocked by the kinds of after-school snacks some of these kids had. The one time she’d gone to Sienna’s house with some girls from the team, her mom had served them gouda cheese on sticks, cranberries, and coconut water.

As the bus moved toward her neighborhood, the houses grew shabbier. The streets grew dirtier. They were run down, with chain-link fences, peeling paint, broken windows. There was some trash strewn around. Even the telephone poles looked crooked.

It was dark by the time the bus got to Mira’s neighborhood. Once, she heard Kendra talking about how dirty the city buses are and that she wasn’t allowed to ride them. As for Mira—she was so glad the bus existed.

She wouldn’t have tennis if it weren’t for the bus.

The bus stopped just a block from her house. She knew none of the girls from tennis would be here. But she looked around anyway before she jumped off the bus.

She headed for her house. Addie knew where she was from, of course, but none of the others did. She hurried down the street, the way her mom always told her to do once it got dark. In her neighborhood, the streets weren’t always safe at night.

Their little house looked like it had been leaning to one side for what seemed like years. It had peeling, light blue paint. But Mira loved the special shade of blue. It wasn’t quite robin’s egg blue, and not quite sky blue, but something in between. She also loved that she could see the big oak tree out front from their kitchen window.

Mrs. Johnson was in her yard next door, putting her trash out. “I hope school was good today, Mira,” she said and smiled. “Sean’s inside.”

“Thanks.” Mira smiled back and hurried to Mrs. Johnson’s back door. She heard her little brother, Sean, playing a video game in the living room.

Mira came into the room and picked up his backpack. “Time to come home,” she told him.

He stuck his tongue out at her and kept playing.

Their mom was always working. Sean was only seven, so he went to Mrs. Johnson’s after school until Mira got home. To repay her, Mira mowed Mrs. Johnson’s lawn and her mom cleaned her house on the weekends.

Mira’s dad died when she was much younger. Her mom had to start taking care of her and Sean by herself. It was really hard. All their other family— aunts, uncles, and cousins—were back in Hyderabad, India. She’d never even met them.

For a while, her mom worked as a housekeeper at a hotel. But when the hotel closed, she had to get two jobs just to make enough money. She worked at another hotel and at a restaurant bussing tables. That was why she was always gone these days.

It also meant Mira was stuck with Sean most nights.

Mira could tell it made her mom sad. She wished she were home with them. She always told Mira that she was a good sister and a big girl. Still, sometimes Mira just wanted to crumble. Sometimes she just wanted to come home and flop onto her bed and think her own thoughts, do her homework, eat dinner, and go to bed, like Addie got to do. Like all her classmates got to do.

She didn’t tell her mom that part, though.

Sean put down his video game controller with a loud sigh. Then he followed Mira back to their house.

“Did you do your homework?” Mira asked him.

Sean flopped down in front of their TV and turned it on. “No.”

She turned off the TV. “Then you have to do it soon.”

“You’re not the boss of me!” he shouted.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ll do what I tell you. If Mom’s not here, I am the boss of you. Go wash up for dinner.”

He stuck his tongue out again and headed for the bathroom.

She opened the fridge and exhaled. It was empty, except for half a carton of milk. Her mom hadn’t shopped today. She probably wouldn’t get paid until tomorrow. That meant nothing for dinner and probably nothing for breakfast.

Hopefully her mom would get the stuff to make keema samosas and biryani rice. Those were Mira’s favorite Indian dishes. Her mom always said the Hyderabadi versions were the best of both. Mira’s mouth watered at the thought.

For now, though, thank goodness for the Hilltop cafeteria. Mira opened her backpack and pulled out the food she’d managed to sneak out of school that day. She’d gotten two turkey sandwiches, an apple, an orange, a few mini boxes of cereal, two bags of chips, a bag of pretzels, and two cookies.

She put the cereal and fruit away for the morning. She dumped the rest of the food onto plates and called Sean to the table. Sean grumbled that there was no cheese on his sandwich. He ate the whole thing anyway. Afterward, Mira cleared the table.

“Homework time,” she said. She already felt exhausted.

Sean grumbled again, but he got out his reading book. He frowned at it. “What’s this word?” he asked, pointing.

She squinted. “Hea-vi-ness. Let’s sound it out together.”

“I hate homework,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “But we have to do it.”

She glanced at the clock. She hadn’t even started her homework yet. And she had a mountain of it.

Sean bounced up and down in his seat. He couldn’t sit still. He finished his reading homework. But if she didn’t do something to wear him out, he’d never go to sleep.

“Tennis?” she asked him.

“Yeah!” he cried.

She grabbed the old, beat-up racket she’d bought for him at a garage sale, and took him out back. The moon was bright enough to light up the back of the house, part of which was concrete. Their mom hated when they practiced against the house, but they did it all the time when she wasn’t home. It was especially fun at night, when the moon shone down on the house.

“OK, forehand drills,” Mira said. “Only forehand—can’t use your backhand at all for these. Go!”

Sean didn’t have a bad forehand for a seven-year- old. Right now, she was working on his stance. She was trying to teach him to keep a big enough space between the racket and the side of his body to make sure his grip was correct.

He giggled as he bounced on his toes, slamming the ball as hard as he could. He missed half the time, scrambling after the ball in the dark. When he was done, he was panting and sweating.

“OK, that’s enough. Bedtime,” she said.

He was so tired he got right into bed. Then he made Mira stay with him while he told her about the nightmares he’d been having. By the time he fell asleep and she tiptoed out of his room, it was 10 p.m.

She hadn’t even started her homework yet.