Mama never told me she was worried about money, but looking back, I probably should’ve picked up on it sooner.

I should’ve noticed the way she’d let out a frustrated sigh every time she opened our empty fridge. Or the strain in her voice when she promised me she’d come up with the money I needed to go on a class trip. Or the way she’d bury her face in her hands while sitting at the kitchen table, with a pile of bills in front of her.

The first time I really started to think that maybe something might be wrong was about a year ago, when Mama was still working for Dr. Parker.

I’d walked into the kitchen, feeling a bit frustrated as I tried to button a pair of jeans that just wouldn’t fit. Mama was at the table, that pile of bills in front of her. She wasn’t looking at them, though. Instead, she seemed to be staring at the wall. I didn’t think much of it, because I had my own things to be worried about.

“Mama,” I said with a groan as I walked over to the table. “Mama, I think I need new clothes.”

It took her a minute to respond. But after a second, she turned to look at me. “What was that, Hadley Bean? Sorry. I was just … What’s wrong?”

“My clothes,” I said. “I think I need some new ones. Especially jeans.”

“What’s wrong with the clothes you have now?”

“Look.” I gestured to the pants I was struggling to button. The jeans showed way more ankle than they had when we’d bought them at the start of the school year. And they were way too tight around my hips now, too. I could barely pull them on, let alone get them fastened. “I just got these out of my closet thinking I could wear them tomorrow, but they don’t fit. Almost none of my pants do anymore.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “I’m sure most of them still fit. Come on. Let’s go take a look.”

But Mama was wrong. Of all the clothes she’d bought me at the start of the school year, only one pair of jeans still looked all right, and I’d been wearing and washing them constantly, so the knees were starting to wear out.

Mama looked down at the pile of too-small clothes on my bed in disbelief. “How did you outgrow all these so fast?”

I shrug. “I dunno. But I can’t wear this stuff anymore. Most of the pants won’t even pull all the way up now.”

“Puberty.” Mama sighed. “I can’t believe you’re growing up this fast. We’ll figure something out. For now, you have leggings that fit, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But I can’t wear them to school.”

“How come?”

“It’s against dress code unless you’re wearing them with a dress that’s down to your knees,” I told her. “It’s stupid.”

Mama nodded. “Yeah, that is stupid.”

“So,” I said, sitting down on my bed next to the pile of jeans. “Can we go shopping this weekend or something?”

“I don’t know if we can do it this weekend,” Mama said, turning to start walking out of the room and back toward the kitchen. “But we’ll definitely do it soon.”

“Can it please be this weekend?” I asked, hurrying after her. “Mama, the end-of-year dance is next week. And then fifth grade graduation on Friday. I need jeans that look all right for those. I can’t wear the ones with holes in them.”

“I forgot all about the dance,” Mama admitted as she poured herself a glass of sweet tea. “Shoot. Can’t you wear one of your dresses?”

“Most of my dresses are too short for dress code now. Or are too tight. The only dress that fits is this year’s Easter dress,” I explained. “Way too fancy for a school dance. Besides, almost none of the girls will be wearing dresses to the dance or to graduation. If I did, I’d be teased for being too dressed up. Almost everyone wears jeans and a nice shirt. Please, Mama, we gotta get me some new clothes.”

Mama took a long drink of her tea before putting the glass back down on the counter and turning away from me. “I’ll … I’ll figure something out.”

“So we’re gonna go clothes shopping this weekend?”

She didn’t answer me. Just kept her back to me, facing the window over the sink.

“Mama?”

“Yeah.” She turned on the faucet, rinsed out her cup, and turned around slowly. “Yeah. I’ll take care of it, Hadley Bean. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure everything works out.”

“Mama, is everything okay?”

“Of course it is.” She walked over to me and wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me into a hug. “The only thing that’s not okay is how fast you’re growing! How am I supposed to keep you in clothes if you won’t stop getting taller.” She ruffled my hair, messing up my hair as I tried to shrug out of her reach. She laughed. But it still sounded a little strained. “You’re gonna be as tall as me soon.”

“I’m gonna be taller than you eventually.”

“We’ll see about that.”

I reached up to smooth out my hair again. “So … everything’s all right?”

“Don’t worry about a thing, Bean.” She leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “Everything will work out. I’ll take care of us, I promise.”

And that was the thing—I never really thought about our money troubles because Mama always told me not to. She always said we’d be fine, that she’d take care of things. And she always did. She always came through with whatever I needed.

Of course, I had no idea that one way she’d been “taking care of us” was by stealing from Dr. Parker.