Free Mama by Terry McMillan Page B

they always caught polliwogs in the spring to scare girls.
    Money was up to his knees in icy water when they spotted him. He was so cold his brown face was red and snot was running down his nose. Maybe he had thought of drowning himself, they thought, but the water was too cold and too shallow, and besides, he looked more scared than anything.
    "Your mama is looking for you, boy, and you gon' get it when you get home. Come on out of there," one of the boys said.
    "I ain't going no fucking where. I ain't moving to no damn Arizona. I hate Arizona and I hate my mama even more! I'm gon' drown myself if it kills me!"
    But the boys just laughed and counted to three and ran into the pond and dragged him out. Then they tied a rope around his waist like a horse in a rodeo so he couldn't run. As they walked home, all Money could think of was the beating he was going to get.
    But Mildred didn't beat him. When she saw him standing there wet and freezing, his teeth chattering and his eyes dilated as if he were in shock, she was too afraid he had caught pneumonia to even think of hitting him. She didn't even scold him or raise her voice one octave. Nor did she hug him, though she wanted to.
    "Get out of those wet clothes, boy," she said. "And Freda, make your brother some hot Nestle's Quik. Wouldn't you like some hot cocoa, boy?" Mildred couldn't stop looking into his cat eyes. Then it suddenly occurred to her that he might see in her own eyes her grief and confusion and just how responsible she felt, so she averted her glance. She didn't want Money to know that she was feeling like a collapsing bridge. Mildred also knew that if she hugged him she would be hugging a young Crook and maybe never let the boy go. She watched him gulp down his hot chocolate and sensed he was all right. Then she took another nerve pill and lay down.
    That night, huddling on their bunk beds, which they were outgrowing, Mildred's children held a conference over popcorn and Kool-Aid. They decided they would simply boycott the whole idea of moving. Just refuse to go. She'd have to go by herself. After all, she couldn't make them go. "Shit, we ain't the one with the divorce problem or the money problem," Freda said.
    "And we ain't trying to get away from nothing or nobody. Are we?" Money asked. All of them shook their heads no. The next decision to make was where everybody would live. This took some serious thinking. It soon became clear that Bootsey should stay with their Aunt Georgia since her daughter, Jeanie, was her age. Freda wanted to stay with the Wiggins family because they were clean, like her mama was, and always kept food in the refrigerator (a big consideration for her), and besides, she had a crush on Eric. Angel and Doll would have to stay together and could go with Ruthie Bates because her granddaughter, Cookie, left her dolls and toys in her spare bedroom until she came to visit in the summer from Chicago. Money would stay right next door with Curly Mae. That way, he said, he could keep an eye out on Freda's weeping willow trees. Make sure nobody else sat under them.
     
    "Milly, you sure this is what you want to do, baby?" her daddy asked. Buster was standing at the wringer washer pushing clothes through the rollers. His big stomach was hanging over his pants, and his suspenders were making them hike up so his ankles showed off his white socks. His skin looked red and he was going bald. Miss Acquilla was sitting in the front room watching "The Price Is Right." She was dipping a piece of corn bread into a bowl of sweet milk. Her silver hair was parted down the middle into two thick braids.
    "Buster," she called, "you almost finished in there? You know them beans need to be snapped if you want to eat 'em tonight."
    Mildred rolled her eyes in Miss Acquilla's direction. She still couldn't stand the woman. She was too bossy and Mildred's daddy was too gullible. He did anything she told him to.
    "I'm almost finished, sugarplum," he said.
    "To tell you the