WEEK 19

We’ll find the money.
Mom was talking to herself.
We’ll find a way.
Her face leaning forward,
her hands in her hair,
papers all over the kitchen table.
She didn’t see me
so I snuck back upstairs.

The Carnival of Giving.
I’m thinking about it.
Thinking about that stupid flyer
Mrs. B stole from school.
The one still crumpled up on my desk,
the one I can’t quite throw away.
Mom would never say yes.
I can’t help but wonder . . .
No.
It’s stupid.

We’re fine.
Please don’t worry.
It’s not like we live in a cave in China.
Or in a hut in Africa.
It’s not like there are flies circling my face.
Or clods of dirt caked on my feet.
We have enough.
We’re OK.
Please, Mrs. B, don’t talk about social services again.
We’re doing our best.
We’re fine.

What is that, T-man?
Don’t call me T-man.
I held up the bag so Mom could see inside.
I couldn’t help smiling.
Thick-cut bacon
sourdough bread
eggs
syrup
a cactus with a pink flower
and a pair of tiny socks
exactly Levi’s size.
I know it’s you, James.
Only you could give things
prickly and soft
sweet and sour
all at the same time.

You and that journal, Timothy.
Isa sat next to me at lunch, smiled,
made my head go all sunny.
I didn’t know she had B lunch.
My cheeks went red from the sun in my brain.
I have to keep the journal. Court-ordered.
(You know, when she nods, her hair shines extra shiny
like she must have sun in her head, too,
shining through.)
What are you doing here, gordita?
José dropped his tray next to mine
splattering spaghetti sauce
making Isa jump back and scowl.
I’m tutoring during C lunch.
Maybe you should skip lunch.
Then he puffed out his cheeks and laughed.
I really wish he wouldn’t do things like that.
She’s his sister, fine.
But still.
Isa stood up, no bites taken from her lunch.
See you later, Timothy.
She turned, and was gone.
My cheeks still red, but now for a different reason.

How goes the turtle?
Huh?
The car? How’s it going? With your dad?
Oh. Fine.
Are you, like, bonding and stuff ?
I don’t know.
He’s not teaching you the meaning of life?
I don’t know. Mostly he yells at me a lot.
Oh.
Yeah.
Thanks for the food.
I just brought it over. But you’re welcome.
Bye.
Bye.
José is acting weird.