Free No Laughter Here by Rita Williams-Garcia Page A

about Gigi. That fussy little pom-pom doesn’t like kids and doesn’t play with anyone.
    At noon Miss Lady made lunch for us. Tuna salad with mustard, no mayo. She said mayo was too oily and unsettling. She gave me an apple instead of cookies or chips. Miss Lady said young people were too fat and full of junk. That made me laugh, the way she said it. Full of junk.
    Miss Lady is slender. Never had any kids. At least I didn’t see any pictures anywhere, only framed ones of her and Gigi. Right then I decided that twenty years from now, I’d forgive Nelson and marry him. I didn’t want to have a house filled with only dog pictures.
    I got started on science, my last subject. All I had todo was read a chapter, but Miss Lady didn’t believe me.
    â€œThen tell me about these”—she squinted to get a better look—“sharks.”
    Miss Lady followed along as I told her about the evolution of sharks over 400 million years. When she was satisfied that I had been studying and not making stuff up, she said, “That’s good. Continue reading.”
    I was glad she didn’t quiz me afterward. My eyes might have been following the words in the chapter, but my mind was on Victoria. I was missing her. Our silences together. Her shoulder next to mine as we sit in the school yard. Then I missed Ms. Saunders, and school activities, and recess. I missed the lunchroom smell on pizza days. The unmarked surface of my desk. The intercom announcements in the morning. Working with stencils in art. Learning a new song from Kenya.
    When you start to miss people and things from the depths of your soul, you can taste, see, and feel every good thing you’re missing. You don’t recall the bad parts. That is for sure. After three days of sitting in Miss Lady’s house, reading and writing and eating mustard tuna sandwiches, I didn’t have one thought of Juwan. Not one. Even the details of Victoria’s horrible operation started to cloud up in my mind.
    I understood why people are sent to prison. It’s so they will miss everything good around them and regret what they did to be incarcerated. That would have made a good word of the day for Victoria and me. Incarcerated . I was tired of being incarcerated.
    By my last day of being away from school and cut off from my privileges, I didn’t feel like a warrior standing tall for Victoria.
    I wanted to play video games with my dad.
    I wanted to sit up under my mom while she scratched my scalp and braided my hair. We hadn’t done that since I was nine and declared myself old enough to do my own hair.
    I wanted to be with my 5–2 classmates, raising my hand like a maniac.
    I wanted to get back into my world.
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    The doorbell chimed at a quarter of six. For the last time Mom had come to collect me. Before we left, she opened my loose-leaf binder while Miss Lady reported my activities and confirmed that I hadn’t enjoyed myself one bit.
    I said thank you and good-bye to Miss Lady. Gigi was glad to see me go. She jumped and barked, showing more excitement than she had during the entire three days of my incarceration. Mom also thanked Miss Lady and gave her money, which Miss Lady said was not necessary. Then we walked down to our house in silence.
    I washed up, made the salad, and set the table. Then Mom, Dad, and I sat down, said the blessing, and passed the food. For the fifth and final time Mom asked, “Are you ready to explain yourself, Akilah?”
    For the fifth and final time I told my parents, “No. I am not.”

Honored
    â€œI hope you’ve used this time out productively,” Vice Principal Skinner said. Today he wore his blue suit.
    â€œOh, she has,” my mother spoke up. I felt a little sorry for Mom. It was hard for her, suddenly being the mother of the bad kid.
    Mr. Skinner was also sympathetic toward her. “I don’t doubt you, Mrs. Hunter,” he said. His eyes were kind.
    To me he