few minutes,” she says. “Go on in.”
I go inside, sit down by Mrs. LaPuma’s desk, and tell her the whole drama.
“Well, Dorinda,” she says when I am finished, “I think it would be good for you to go on the Mo’—what is her name?” Mrs. LaPuma asks, arching her high eyebrows even higher. I wonder how she draws them so perfect, ’cuz they both look exactly the same—like two smiley faces turned upside down and smiling at me.
“Mo’ Money Monique. She’s a
really
big singer right now,” I explain, trying to impress Mrs. LaPuma so she won’t think
M
to the
M
to the
M
sang at The Winky Dinky Lizard or something. “She has two songs on the chart right—”
“Yes, my daughter listens to rap music,” Mrs. LaPuma says, cutting me off. She takes a sip of her iced coffee through a straw, leaving behind a red lipstick stain.
“Dorinda, I know how attached you feel to your friends, and your foster family. But this is a great opportunity for you. You deserve to try new experiences, dear, even at your young age. Besides, if I may say so, it seems like you have your hands full at home. I know you may think you’re not ready, but getting a break from your everyday life might be the best thing you ever did.”
Mrs. LaPuma folds her hands on the desk, and looks at me for an answer. I sit there frozen, not knowing what to say. Why is Mrs. LaPuma trying to make it sound like I should run away from home?
“I’m not unhappy at home, Mrs. LaPuma,” I try to explain, and I can feel my cheeks getting red because I’m getting upset. I don’t want Mrs. LaPuma to tell Mrs. Tattle, my caseworker, that I was complaining or anything. See, I know that my teachers send reports about me to my caseworkers, since I’m legally a ward of the state.
“I’m not saying you are unhappy at Mrs. Bosco’s, Dorinda,” Mrs. LaPuma says sternly.
If there is one thing I hate, it’s when grownups get that tone of voice like they know everything—and they don’t!
“But what I
am
saying is, I don’t think you realize what kind of daily strain you’re under,” Mrs. LaPuma goes on. “Being in a whole new environment, especially a creative one, may open up a whole world of new possibilities for you.”
“I’m not trying to be funny, Mrs. LaPuma, but what strain am I under, washing dishes every night? It makes me feel good to help Mrs. Bosco. She’s my
mother
. And the Cheetah Girls help me with
lots
of stuff.”
“Dorinda, don’t get so defensive,” Mrs. LaPuma says, frowning. “The Cheetah Girls are wonderful, I’m sure—but you have to think about your
own
future. Being part of a major artist’s tour, traveling around the world at your tender age …”
She sighs and leans forward, giving me a searching look. “I know that you’re exceptionally bright, because I’ve looked at your junior high school records, but if it is your calling to be a dancer, then—”
At that moment, the girl with the musical jewelry comes in and interrupts us. “Mrs. LaPuma, may I speak to you a moment?” she asks, giving the guidance counselor a look.
“Excuse me for a moment, Dorinda,” Mrs. LaPuma says, agitated. “Yes, what is it, Chloe?” She follows the secretary into the outer office, and is gone for half a minute or so.
When she comes back in, she says hurriedly, “Dorinda, there’s an emergency I have to attend to. We’re a little short-staffed right, now so there is never a moment’s peace around here. Good luck with your decision, and come back and see me if I can be of any further assistance.”
“Oh, okay, bye, Mrs. LaPuma, thanks a lot,” I say, getting up quickly in case she needs the chair. Emergency—yeah, right. I’ll bet. The coffee machine is probably broken or something. Oh, well. I already got her point of view, and I know she’s right—but I still feel really really bad.
Like it or not, it’s show time. Time to see Bubbles and Chuchie before homeroom period. The three of us meet every
I go inside, sit down by Mrs. LaPuma’s desk, and tell her the whole drama.
“Well, Dorinda,” she says when I am finished, “I think it would be good for you to go on the Mo’—what is her name?” Mrs. LaPuma asks, arching her high eyebrows even higher. I wonder how she draws them so perfect, ’cuz they both look exactly the same—like two smiley faces turned upside down and smiling at me.
“Mo’ Money Monique. She’s a
really
big singer right now,” I explain, trying to impress Mrs. LaPuma so she won’t think
M
to the
M
to the
M
sang at The Winky Dinky Lizard or something. “She has two songs on the chart right—”
“Yes, my daughter listens to rap music,” Mrs. LaPuma says, cutting me off. She takes a sip of her iced coffee through a straw, leaving behind a red lipstick stain.
“Dorinda, I know how attached you feel to your friends, and your foster family. But this is a great opportunity for you. You deserve to try new experiences, dear, even at your young age. Besides, if I may say so, it seems like you have your hands full at home. I know you may think you’re not ready, but getting a break from your everyday life might be the best thing you ever did.”
Mrs. LaPuma folds her hands on the desk, and looks at me for an answer. I sit there frozen, not knowing what to say. Why is Mrs. LaPuma trying to make it sound like I should run away from home?
“I’m not unhappy at home, Mrs. LaPuma,” I try to explain, and I can feel my cheeks getting red because I’m getting upset. I don’t want Mrs. LaPuma to tell Mrs. Tattle, my caseworker, that I was complaining or anything. See, I know that my teachers send reports about me to my caseworkers, since I’m legally a ward of the state.
“I’m not saying you are unhappy at Mrs. Bosco’s, Dorinda,” Mrs. LaPuma says sternly.
If there is one thing I hate, it’s when grownups get that tone of voice like they know everything—and they don’t!
“But what I
am
saying is, I don’t think you realize what kind of daily strain you’re under,” Mrs. LaPuma goes on. “Being in a whole new environment, especially a creative one, may open up a whole world of new possibilities for you.”
“I’m not trying to be funny, Mrs. LaPuma, but what strain am I under, washing dishes every night? It makes me feel good to help Mrs. Bosco. She’s my
mother
. And the Cheetah Girls help me with
lots
of stuff.”
“Dorinda, don’t get so defensive,” Mrs. LaPuma says, frowning. “The Cheetah Girls are wonderful, I’m sure—but you have to think about your
own
future. Being part of a major artist’s tour, traveling around the world at your tender age …”
She sighs and leans forward, giving me a searching look. “I know that you’re exceptionally bright, because I’ve looked at your junior high school records, but if it is your calling to be a dancer, then—”
At that moment, the girl with the musical jewelry comes in and interrupts us. “Mrs. LaPuma, may I speak to you a moment?” she asks, giving the guidance counselor a look.
“Excuse me for a moment, Dorinda,” Mrs. LaPuma says, agitated. “Yes, what is it, Chloe?” She follows the secretary into the outer office, and is gone for half a minute or so.
When she comes back in, she says hurriedly, “Dorinda, there’s an emergency I have to attend to. We’re a little short-staffed right, now so there is never a moment’s peace around here. Good luck with your decision, and come back and see me if I can be of any further assistance.”
“Oh, okay, bye, Mrs. LaPuma, thanks a lot,” I say, getting up quickly in case she needs the chair. Emergency—yeah, right. I’ll bet. The coffee machine is probably broken or something. Oh, well. I already got her point of view, and I know she’s right—but I still feel really really bad.
Like it or not, it’s show time. Time to see Bubbles and Chuchie before homeroom period. The three of us meet every
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