I TAKE THE plant out the blue bag and sit it on the window ledge. “What should we name it?” I ask Cricket. “Hickory?” I laugh ’cause that was my great-grandfather’s name. “Dude? That’s a good one. What’s up, Dude?” I carry Cricket over to the kitchen and fill a cup with warm water. “You the man of the house,” I tell Dude. “Anybody come in here—do what you gotta.”

Dude is a cactus. The kind with spikes that hurt. I bought it to celebrate us having money again. I pour water in the dry, hard dirt, walk over to the desk, and read over my list. Pay your rent was first on the list. I ain’t all the way caught up, but he smiled when I gave him the money. Take the bus to the store in the white neighborhood was number two on the list. I did that already. I bought six bags of popcorn, a hundred dollars’ worth of Similac, fifteen jars of baby food, a case of Oodles of Noodles for myself, soda, new crayons, and three coloring books—a pack of cigarettes too. I even bought a seventh-grade math book. Miss Saunders would laugh. So would JuJu. I never read my work or did it for that matter. Spending so much time by myself—being bored—got me doing things I wouldn’t normally. Plus, Maleeka said if I did it, she would help.

Sitting down on the floor with Cricket, I empty out another bag. “These are books. Yours. They like medicine. They good for you. Only, most kids don’t like how they taste.

“Be still. I’m reading.” Falling over, she start to cry, then stops when she see it won’t get her nowhere with me. “Goodnight Moon.” I start with that one. I read it slow with different voices, like my mother used to. Stopping, I apologize to Cricket for things being how they been the last few months. When I promise it won’t happen no more, I’m not exactly telling the truth. But now that Anthony got my back, maybe things won’t be as hard as they been.