Free The Dear One by Jacqueline Woodson

course.”
    â€œThen it’s good that Bernadette’s going to tutor you.”
    â€œThen it’s good that Bernadette’s going to tutor you,” Rebecca mimicked. “You’re a pain.”
    â€œTakes one to know one.”
    â€œBut you have beautiful eyes. Anyone ever told you that?”
    I blushed. “No.”
    â€œWell, you do. You got what they call ‘bedroom eyes.’ You know what that means?”
    I shook my head.
    She laughed that superior laugh of hers and finished fixing her tea. When she turned back toward me, I narrowed my “beautiful” eyes into slits.
    â€œUh-oh. I knew you was evil. Look how you looking at me. You could probably kill somebody. How come you so evil?”
    â€œI’m not evil.”
    â€œWhat goes on inside your head when you walking around this house quiet as a snake, not saying nothing to nobody?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œYou thinking evil thoughts, that’s what you doing.”
    I rolled my eyes at her and put my bowl to my lips the way Ma hated. What right did she have coming into this house and trying to tell me what I thought?
    â€œYour ma said after your grandmama died, you got all closed off and wouldn’t talk to nobody.”
    â€œMy mother didn’t tell you that!”
    â€œSure did. In the car on the way here from the airport she said she took you to one of them specialist doctors and they said wasn’t nothing wrong with your mouth. Then when people stopped worrying about it, you started up talking again. Now, why you just stop talking like that and drive your ma crazy?”
    â€œYour mother’s crazy, mine isn’t.”
    A shadow crossed Rebecca’s face. She swished her tea around in her cup without saying anything. After a moment she went on as though I hadn’t spoken. “If I had all this you got, I’d be talking a mile a minute.”
    â€œWhat all do I have?” I yelled, slamming my bowl against the table. Rebecca jumped, then calmly brought her cup to her lips and looked at me above it. “You come into my house and take half my room, then you and my mother and Marion get all chummy-chummy....” I sat back, wanting to be anywhere but where I was.
    â€œSo that’s what your problem is. You jealous. Well, I don’t want your moms. She’s cold. She doesn’t care about people. She thinks life is a bunch of little notes and meetings. She thinks dinner is a waste of time. If I’m gonna have any mother, it’s gonna be my crazy moms in Manhattan, because she loves me. And I ain’t giving this baby up to no family that I think ain’t gonna love it! I know they will. I would never have no kid that I couldn’t love, and that’s what your mother did, ain’t it? Went and had a kid she didn’t even want and can’t give a hundred percent to. If I was you, I’d get on the phone with my daddy right now and say, ‘Come get me, ’cause there ain’t no love here for me’!”
    â€œIf she was all that, you think she would have taken your pregnant self in? Nope! My mother’s strong! She’s quiet and strong. And you—you’re so stupid, you don’t even know what love is!”
    I left the kitchen while she was thinking up a smart remark and made my way up to my room. The last thing I wanted was for Rebecca to see me crying. Behind me, I heard her take a loud sip of tea and set her cup down heavily.

Fourteen
    â€œI WANT TO GO LIVE WITH DAD,” I SAID TO MA IN THE den that night. I had waited until dinner was over and Rebecca was stretched out in the living room in front of the pregnancy exercise video Marion had brought over.
    Ma’s pencil froze in midair. “What are you talking about? You barely speak to your father, and God knows what it takes to get you to go out West for a visit.”
    â€œWell, I want to speak to him now and I want to go live with him . . . in