Free Kira-Kira by Cynthia Kadohata Page B

outside of town where many people did not have running water, so whenever she came over, she filled big jugs to take home. I asked my mother to come outside so she could bring a jug too. She frowned but agreed. I knew she'd frowned because water didn't grow on trees.
    We sat on the front stoop. Across the street some grown-ups sat talking and laughing. Some kids from another apartment played kickball in the street.
    Silly's mother, Mrs. Kilgore, drove up and got out of her car. She and my mother nodded politely at each other and tried to think of something to say. Mrs. Kilgore was a no-nonsense woman. She didn't believe in small talk. She looked at my mother and said, "There's a union meeting next Wednesday at the church on Frame Street."
    "Yes," said my mother coolly. My mother was scared the union supporters would get them all fired, even her. She wanted a house, and she didn't care if she couldn't use the bathroom during work or if her fingers were so stiff that she couldn't move them when she got home. If that's what a house cost, she would pay the price.
    "The meeting's at seven thirty in the evening," said Mrs. Kilgore.
    "Wednesday evening is bad for me," said my mother.
    They left then. "Mom, why is Wednesday bad for you?"
    "That woman makes too much trouble." My mother pulled me down on the stoop beside her. I thought she was going to tell me Silly couldn't be my friend anymore, but instead, she took my face in her hands and frowned. "Did you want to grow your hair long again?" she said. I'd expected her to say something more serious, but I didn't know what.
    For a while she'd given my hair a permanent every few months, but something about the permanent solution made my hair fall out. So now I was back to pin curls every night. "I hate pin curls!" I said. She didn't answer. The day was fading into evening. There were no streetlights, but the street was lit by the lights from the apartments and from a motel down the way, the sign flashing on and off, on and off. m- O -t-e-l , in aqua neon.
    "Your summer school teacher said you got a good score on your achievement test."
    "Yeah." She frowned, and I said, "I mean, yes."
    "Nobody understands why you don't get better grades." "I'm trying."
    'Your father is very disappointed." That surprised me. I didn't think my father was ever disappointed in me. She patted my knee and stood up. She had always seemed younger than the other mothers, partly because of her size, but also because her face possessed a childlike quality. But tonight she grunted when she stood up. And even in the dim light, her face seemed older than it had even the previous month. I remembered the white hairs I'd seen. She opened the door and I followed her in.
    That night I tried to concentrate on my homework for Monday, but it was boring. We had to read a story about a man who discovered a secret treasure. He bought lots of nice clothes and ate fancy dinners, but he lost his most valued friends because he grew obsessed with his money. We were supposed to write three paragraphs answering the questions: What is the author trying to say by describing the expensive dinners in such detail? What is the theme of the story? How did the main character change at the end? It was a good story, and I liked it. But I didn't know how to answer those questions.
    Amber left, and Lynn, who had read the story, took the time to tell me the story was about greed. So I wrote that the theme of the story was greed. And then I couldn't think of anything else to write. Finally, I wrote, The descriptions of the dinners really describe greed. Greed is bad. People shouldn't be greedy. At the end of the book the main character isn't greedy anymore. I added a few other brilliant remarks. And then I folded the paper in half and put it in my book. I would probably get another C, which was good enough for me.
    That night Sam fell asleep before me, as always. He shouted out in his dream, "Call me Mister Takeshima!" I laughed and got up and