Money Hungry Read Online Free PDF Page A

That means you ain’t—aren’t—permitted to sell a thing in school ever again,” she says, shaking the letter at me.
    I let her know I’m finished with selling things. Then I tell her how me and Zora, Mai, and Ja’nae are gonna clean people’s houses to earn money. Momma’s face is pressed close to the windshield. Every once in a while, she takes her hand and wipes the glass so she can see better. Our defroster ain’t working today, so it’s a wonder we ain’t crashed into a pole by now.
    “You think I’m gonna let you go into some stranger’s house and mop up? No way,” she says pulling the car over in front of Sato, Kevin, and some other kids. I wipe away the window fog with my coat sleeve. When we pull up to them, Sato and his boys look me dead in the face. I wanna die.
    Momma will pick up anybody. She ain’t gonna let somebody she knows stand in the rain for a bus.
    “We ain’t gonna work for strangers,” I say, not really telling the truth. “We gonna work for people we know . . . neighbors, and friends of you and Dr. Mitchell.”
    I don’t get to hear what Momma thinks of my idea. Her mind is fixed on picking up Sato. She puts the car in park, opens the door, and sticks her head out in the rain to tell him and his boys they can ride with us. When she looks over my way she got rain running down her face, and into her mouth. I’m sliding down in the seat again . . . hoping they tell Momma they’d rather take the bus.
    But just my luck, Sato’s yanking on my door, knocking on my window. He’s trying to get me to open up the back door on my side. I shake my head no. “Go around to my mother’s side. This side is stuck today.”
    They squeeze in behind Momma. Four boys with legs long as ironing boards. Not one of ’em carrying a school book, or a book bag. Before they’re in the car, I hear one of the kids cracking on our broken rearview mirror, and Sato’s telling Momma she gotta do something about the back seat. “Miz Hill, you can’t be going ’round with your seats taped up. It ain’t cool, you know.”
    Momma’s laughing right along with ’em. She should just pull over and toss ’em out. But no, she’s holding a conversation with them about fixing cars. And she’s asking how they think they gonna learn something without books.
    Naturally, Sato’s homework is rolled up like a newspaper in his back pocket. And Kevin says his books are in his locker. Momma believes anything they say. And today they’re saying plenty.
    “Miz Hill,” Sato says, getting close to Momma’s ear. “Did you know your daughter’s in love?”
    I shoot my eyes back at Sato. Wondering why he’s making up stuff on me.
    Momma plays along. “Is she, Sato? She didn’t tell me that. You wanna give me the four-one-one?”
    Sato looks at his boys and laughs. “You all right, Miz Hill,” he says, shaking his head.
    The car pulls up to school, and I’m pushing myself against the door trying to get out. Sato and his crew are cracking up. “Better crawl out the window,” he says, making me mad. I don’t tell him the window don’t work either.
    When we all start to get out the car, Momma asks him, “Now who is Raspberry in love with?”
    “Oooh. You know she likes old men, really old men,” Sato says, digging in his pocket and pretending to pull out some money. “Washington, Lincoln . . .”
    Momma covers her mouth, but she’s laughing with Sato.
    “Can I get out, please?” I say. She opens her door, gets out, and stands in the rain to let me out on her side.
    When we get under the awning at the front steps of our school, Sato’s still cracking on me. “Pistachio,” he says, messing with my name again. “Your mom’s ride is messed up.” He’s got this big, pretty smile on his face. “It needs some serious help.” His boys are listening, taking off their wet leathers and saying smart stuff.
    “I got some more tape in my locker if she need some to hold her seats together,” one of ’em