do.
When lunchtime comes around, I’m so hungry I break down and buy me some real food. Cheese fries, chicken fingers, and vanilla pudding. Before I can even swallow one bite, Ja’nae comes in the lunchroom, asking to borrow money.
“Money?” I say, hoping she ain’t really expecting me to cough up no cash.
“Yeah,” Ja’nae says, leaning over and taking a bite out her homemade sandwich. The spiral curl hanging in her eye is swinging back and forth like a rope. The rest of her hair is shooting out the top of her head like a water fountain on high blast.
Ja’nae sticks her tongue out the corner of her lips, and starts drawing on the table with a red pencil short as her baby finger. Next thing you know there’s a fat, gray heart on the table, with her and Ming’s name in it.
“If I don’t get some money quick,” she says, “my granddaddy’s gonna explode.”
Ja’nae’s still got her tongue circling her lips like that’s helping her draw better. I wanna tell her to keep her tongue in her mouth, but I just listen up. “Last week somebody asked to borrow money from me. She said she’d pay me back. But now she’s broke, ain’t got a dime. And neither do I.”
I’m trying to figure out who Ja’nae lent money to. She only hangs out with me, Mai, and Zora. If she lent one of them money, I’d know about it.
Then Ja’nae fesses up. She says she got ahold of her granddad’s stash while he was in the bathroom taking a pee. He’s been looking for the missing money ever since. “I told him that he’s getting old,” she says, “that he probably hid it from hisself, you know? But if he don’t find it soon, he gonna start suspecting me.”
“You better tell whoever you lent that money to, to give it back,” I say, taking that curl from in front of Ja’nae’s face and wrapping it behind her ear.
Ja’nae’s drawing another heart on the table. I wanna tell her to forget about Ming when he walks into the lunchroom, wearing a new black leather jacket.
I look at Ja’nae, she looks at me, and starts with the stupid hearts again.
Ming don’t come over to us, which ain’t like him. He stays with Sato and his friends. They fingering his coat. Slapping him five. Asking how he coughed up the cash to pay for it. Shoot, they know his parents ain’t buying leather. They put every penny they make back into their food truck.
“You gotta give me the money, Raspberry,” Ja’nae says, moving over one seat to get closer to me. “You know how my granddaddy is. If he don’t find that two hundred dollars quick, he’s gonna know I took it.”
“Two hundred dollars! You crazy?” I say so loud kids at the other end of the table turn and look my way.
“You always gotta be talking about money,” Seneca says, walking up to the table and slamming down her books.
I roll my eyes at her. What she know about needing money? She’s like Zora. Her parents got big-time jobs. They’re both supervisors at the factory across town. She got every kind of coat in the world. Leather. Suede. Silk. Long. Short. Me, I got one—a beat-up pea jacket.
Seneca takes the hint. Next thing you know, she’s up in somebody else’s face.
“C’mon, Raspberry, if you lend me the money, I’m gonna give it back,” Ja’nae says, looking scared.
Ja’nae just don’t get it. I don’t even spend my own money on me. I watch money. Count it. Smell it. But I don’t spend it. I can’t. You spend it, and it’s gone. Then you got nada , nothing.
Ming finally comes over to our table. He sits down next to Ja’nae and next thing you know, she’s cheesing big-time. Rubbing his new leather, asking if he wants some of her lunch.
For ten whole minutes, neither one of ’em speaks to me. They’re all up in each other’s face, whispering to each other. Ming is playing with a piece of Ja’nae’s hair. Ja’nae’s got her pinkie finger through the tiny baby ring Ming wears on a chain around his neck. It’s real gold. His dad gave
When lunchtime comes around, I’m so hungry I break down and buy me some real food. Cheese fries, chicken fingers, and vanilla pudding. Before I can even swallow one bite, Ja’nae comes in the lunchroom, asking to borrow money.
“Money?” I say, hoping she ain’t really expecting me to cough up no cash.
“Yeah,” Ja’nae says, leaning over and taking a bite out her homemade sandwich. The spiral curl hanging in her eye is swinging back and forth like a rope. The rest of her hair is shooting out the top of her head like a water fountain on high blast.
Ja’nae sticks her tongue out the corner of her lips, and starts drawing on the table with a red pencil short as her baby finger. Next thing you know there’s a fat, gray heart on the table, with her and Ming’s name in it.
“If I don’t get some money quick,” she says, “my granddaddy’s gonna explode.”
Ja’nae’s still got her tongue circling her lips like that’s helping her draw better. I wanna tell her to keep her tongue in her mouth, but I just listen up. “Last week somebody asked to borrow money from me. She said she’d pay me back. But now she’s broke, ain’t got a dime. And neither do I.”
I’m trying to figure out who Ja’nae lent money to. She only hangs out with me, Mai, and Zora. If she lent one of them money, I’d know about it.
Then Ja’nae fesses up. She says she got ahold of her granddad’s stash while he was in the bathroom taking a pee. He’s been looking for the missing money ever since. “I told him that he’s getting old,” she says, “that he probably hid it from hisself, you know? But if he don’t find it soon, he gonna start suspecting me.”
“You better tell whoever you lent that money to, to give it back,” I say, taking that curl from in front of Ja’nae’s face and wrapping it behind her ear.
Ja’nae’s drawing another heart on the table. I wanna tell her to forget about Ming when he walks into the lunchroom, wearing a new black leather jacket.
I look at Ja’nae, she looks at me, and starts with the stupid hearts again.
Ming don’t come over to us, which ain’t like him. He stays with Sato and his friends. They fingering his coat. Slapping him five. Asking how he coughed up the cash to pay for it. Shoot, they know his parents ain’t buying leather. They put every penny they make back into their food truck.
“You gotta give me the money, Raspberry,” Ja’nae says, moving over one seat to get closer to me. “You know how my granddaddy is. If he don’t find that two hundred dollars quick, he’s gonna know I took it.”
“Two hundred dollars! You crazy?” I say so loud kids at the other end of the table turn and look my way.
“You always gotta be talking about money,” Seneca says, walking up to the table and slamming down her books.
I roll my eyes at her. What she know about needing money? She’s like Zora. Her parents got big-time jobs. They’re both supervisors at the factory across town. She got every kind of coat in the world. Leather. Suede. Silk. Long. Short. Me, I got one—a beat-up pea jacket.
Seneca takes the hint. Next thing you know, she’s up in somebody else’s face.
“C’mon, Raspberry, if you lend me the money, I’m gonna give it back,” Ja’nae says, looking scared.
Ja’nae just don’t get it. I don’t even spend my own money on me. I watch money. Count it. Smell it. But I don’t spend it. I can’t. You spend it, and it’s gone. Then you got nada , nothing.
Ming finally comes over to our table. He sits down next to Ja’nae and next thing you know, she’s cheesing big-time. Rubbing his new leather, asking if he wants some of her lunch.
For ten whole minutes, neither one of ’em speaks to me. They’re all up in each other’s face, whispering to each other. Ming is playing with a piece of Ja’nae’s hair. Ja’nae’s got her pinkie finger through the tiny baby ring Ming wears on a chain around his neck. It’s real gold. His dad gave
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