Growl Power! Read Online Free PDF

says.
    “Her mother, Ms. Dorothea, named her after the Galleria mall here in Houston—ain’t that funny?” Angie says, trying to be helpful like always, even though Ma isn’t really listening. “See, Ms. Dorothea was here in Houston working—I think she was modeling for some catalog—and she was pregnant. She went shopping at the Galleria and bought her first pair of Gucci shoes, so that’s why she named her daughter Galleria.”
    “Lucky for her she could afford Gucci shoes,” Ma says firmly. “When your father and I were raising you, by the time we finished paying for everything, I was lucky to be able to get a pair of Payless pumps.”
    Finally, Angie gets the message. Meanwhile, I have dialed Galleria’s bedroom phone, and luckily she’s there. “We’re home!” I say, trying to sound chirpy.
    “That’s good,” Galleria says, sniffling.
    “What’s wrong, Bubbles?” Now Angie is hovering by me, trying to hear the phone conversation.
    “Nona is not coming after all! She went to Turin for a mud bath, and she slipped and broke her hip. Daddy is flying over there to be with her, but Ma’s working, so we’re
stuck
here!”
    “Oh no, I can’t believe it!” I say, trying to console her. “Angie and I are gonna say a prayer for you.”
    “We’re gonna say one for you, too,” Galleria says.
    Ma throws me a look. “You two better start getting ready.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I say without thinking. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. That’s the first time Galleria has ever said anything about praying. She always used to make fun of Angie and me with our church stuff.
    You know what? God really
does
work in mysterious ways….

Chapter
5
    I f there is one thing we miss about Houston, it’s taking a bite out of Big Momma’s peach cobbler! Well, finally our long wait is over. Stepping out of Ma’s car as we pull up in front of Big Momma’s house, I notice that some of the kids hanging out down the block stop to stare at us. This one boy, with red kinky hair and freckles, starts walking toward us, waving.
    “Who is that?” Angie asks.
    “I don’t know,” I respond, watching him and thinking how much faster he could walk if he tied his sneaker laces.
    “What, y’all moved up to the Big Apple and forgot about us?” the redheaded boy screeches as he approaches.
    “It’s Beethead!” Angie whispers.
    It sure is—even though his hair is not as bushy. Major “Beethead” Knowles is the reason why I have seven stitches in my left knee and don’t like wearing skirts. When I was about four years old, I was swinging real high, showing off, of course. Beethead kept throwing rocks at me, to see if he could reach my head. He did, causing me to fall off the swing and bust my knee on a jagged rock edge. Big Momma told Beethead never to come anywhere near us again. And he hasn’t—until now.
    “Hey, Beethead,” I exclaim, and he breaks out in a grin.
    “Check y’all out,” he says, examining our cheetah outfits. “Y’all sure look
different
.”
    The other kids are still staring at us, too—like we’re in a zoo or something. I guess we’re gonna cause quite a stir in Houston with our new “cheetah-ness.”
    “I’ll see y’all inside,” Ma yells as she walks up to the front of Big Momma’s house. Beethead waves at Ma, and she waves back, smiling.
    “Y’all got tickets yet to the Karma’s Children’s concert?”
    “No, we haven’t,” I reply.
    “Well, you better get ’em soon, ’cuz they’re almost sold out,” Beethead says, trying to be helpful.
    “Well—we’ll see,” I respond, without further explanation.
    Beethead props himself against the big oak tree outside Big Momma’s house. I never noticed that he had such long eyelashes before—almost like a girl’s.
    “What’s that?” Beethead says, pointing at Porgy and Bess’s cage.
    “That’s our guinea pigs,” I reply.
    Beethead heckles so loud, I almost expect him to expose hyena fangs any minute. Ugh. Now I