point. “Did you do it?”
“Uh-huh,” said Dyamonde.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Did she pop you one?”
Dyamonde rolled her eyes. “I told you, my mom doesn’t believe in that stuff.”
“So, how’d it go?”
“Okay, I guess,” said Dyamonde.
I think it did.
I hope it did.
All Dyamonde knew for sure was that she didn’t want to talk about it.
“You choose what to read for your book report?” she asked Free.
“Huh? Oh, yeah! I found this great book on Jackie Robinson.”
Baseball,
thought Dyamonde.
It figures.
Once Free started talking baseball, he forgot about everything else. That left Dyamonde alone with her thoughts, and that was just fine.
The rest of the school day was normal. And by the end of it, Dyamonde had stopped worrying about whether her mom was mad at her or not. But when she got home, she was in for a big surprise.
2. Robbed
“Mom!” screamed Dyamonde. “Somebody robbed our house!”
“Stop screaming, child,” said Mrs. Daniel. “The whole building can hear you.”
“But somebody robbed our house!” said Dyamonde.
“No,” said Mrs. Daniel in a calm voice. “They didn’t.”
“But—”
“Is the television gone?” asked Mrs. Daniel. “Or the CD player?”
Dyamonde looked around the living room. The TV and CD player were there, exactly where they should be.
“If our house wasn’t robbed, then how come all my clothes are missing?”
And they were. The hall closet where Dyamonde kept her clothes was bare. The hangers were naked as a newborn. The dresser drawers were empty, each hanging open like the tongue from a dog’smouth. The only thing left in the closet was some underwear, a pair of neatly folded pajamas, and one pair of just-washed fuzzy bunny slippers. Those sat atop the dresser.
“What happened to all my clothes?” asked Dyamonde.
Her mom fell into her old recliner, exhausted. She slowly kicked off her shoes, one at a time. She removed her watch, carefully placed it on the end table beside her and made herself comfy before she finally spoke.
Dyamonde felt like shaking her.
“Nobody stole your clothes,Dyamonde,” said her mom. “I packed them up and took them away.”
“Huh?” Dyamonde did not believe her ears.
“Last night, you told me it was my job, as your mother, to give you what you need. Remember?”
Dyamonde felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t like where this was going.
“So, I thought about it. And you were right. It is my job to give you a roof over your head, a safe place to sleep, food to eat and clothes to wear.”
Dyamonde nodded. So far, so good.
“But guess what, Dyamonde. Nowhere does it say I have to give you
more
than you need. So I’ve decided, from now on, I’ll give you exactly what you need and nothing more.”
Dyamonde’s heart pounded against her chest.
“There are no clothes in my closet except pajamas. I can’t go to school wearing pajamas.”
“No, you can’t,” her mother agreed.
“Then what am I supposed to wear tomorrow?”
“The same clothes you wore today,” said Mrs. Daniel. Then she picked up the television remote and switched on the news.
Dyamonde’s feet were glued to the living room floor, and her mouth hung wide open.
“Better close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies,” said her mom.
Dyamonde balled her fists and made a choking sound. Then she ran to the bathroom, slammed the door as hard as she could andplopped down on the side of the bathtub.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” muttered Dyamonde. Then she went to the sink and turned the water on full blast to cover the sound of her crying.
3. Mean Mom and the Mustard Stain
Wednesday morning, Dyamonde stomped and banged doors as loudly as she could, hoping to make her mom as mad as she was. But it didn’t work. Her mom pretended not to notice.
“Big deal,” Dyamonde muttered to herself. “So what if I have to wear the same stupid clothesI had on yesterday. I don’t care.” Dyamonde’s lie sounded
“Uh-huh,” said Dyamonde.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Did she pop you one?”
Dyamonde rolled her eyes. “I told you, my mom doesn’t believe in that stuff.”
“So, how’d it go?”
“Okay, I guess,” said Dyamonde.
I think it did.
I hope it did.
All Dyamonde knew for sure was that she didn’t want to talk about it.
“You choose what to read for your book report?” she asked Free.
“Huh? Oh, yeah! I found this great book on Jackie Robinson.”
Baseball,
thought Dyamonde.
It figures.
Once Free started talking baseball, he forgot about everything else. That left Dyamonde alone with her thoughts, and that was just fine.
The rest of the school day was normal. And by the end of it, Dyamonde had stopped worrying about whether her mom was mad at her or not. But when she got home, she was in for a big surprise.
2. Robbed
“Mom!” screamed Dyamonde. “Somebody robbed our house!”
“Stop screaming, child,” said Mrs. Daniel. “The whole building can hear you.”
“But somebody robbed our house!” said Dyamonde.
“No,” said Mrs. Daniel in a calm voice. “They didn’t.”
“But—”
“Is the television gone?” asked Mrs. Daniel. “Or the CD player?”
Dyamonde looked around the living room. The TV and CD player were there, exactly where they should be.
“If our house wasn’t robbed, then how come all my clothes are missing?”
And they were. The hall closet where Dyamonde kept her clothes was bare. The hangers were naked as a newborn. The dresser drawers were empty, each hanging open like the tongue from a dog’smouth. The only thing left in the closet was some underwear, a pair of neatly folded pajamas, and one pair of just-washed fuzzy bunny slippers. Those sat atop the dresser.
“What happened to all my clothes?” asked Dyamonde.
Her mom fell into her old recliner, exhausted. She slowly kicked off her shoes, one at a time. She removed her watch, carefully placed it on the end table beside her and made herself comfy before she finally spoke.
Dyamonde felt like shaking her.
“Nobody stole your clothes,Dyamonde,” said her mom. “I packed them up and took them away.”
“Huh?” Dyamonde did not believe her ears.
“Last night, you told me it was my job, as your mother, to give you what you need. Remember?”
Dyamonde felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t like where this was going.
“So, I thought about it. And you were right. It is my job to give you a roof over your head, a safe place to sleep, food to eat and clothes to wear.”
Dyamonde nodded. So far, so good.
“But guess what, Dyamonde. Nowhere does it say I have to give you
more
than you need. So I’ve decided, from now on, I’ll give you exactly what you need and nothing more.”
Dyamonde’s heart pounded against her chest.
“There are no clothes in my closet except pajamas. I can’t go to school wearing pajamas.”
“No, you can’t,” her mother agreed.
“Then what am I supposed to wear tomorrow?”
“The same clothes you wore today,” said Mrs. Daniel. Then she picked up the television remote and switched on the news.
Dyamonde’s feet were glued to the living room floor, and her mouth hung wide open.
“Better close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies,” said her mom.
Dyamonde balled her fists and made a choking sound. Then she ran to the bathroom, slammed the door as hard as she could andplopped down on the side of the bathtub.
“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” muttered Dyamonde. Then she went to the sink and turned the water on full blast to cover the sound of her crying.
3. Mean Mom and the Mustard Stain
Wednesday morning, Dyamonde stomped and banged doors as loudly as she could, hoping to make her mom as mad as she was. But it didn’t work. Her mom pretended not to notice.
“Big deal,” Dyamonde muttered to herself. “So what if I have to wear the same stupid clothesI had on yesterday. I don’t care.” Dyamonde’s lie sounded
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