Free P.S. Be Eleven by Rita Williams-Garcia

pitcher into the kitchen. Vonetta brought in the plates and madeanother trip for the glasses. Fern brought in the forks, spoons, and butter knife. I washed, Fern put the dishes in the rack, and Vonetta dried.
    For everything we did, I put a check mark on a sheet I kept in my letter-writing pad.
    When allowance day came, I found one dollar in quarters on my dresser next to my talcum powder. I kept two quarters for gum and Good & Plenty. Instead of putting the rest in my savings passbook, I gave Vonetta the other two quarters to put away for the concert.
    Not to be outdone, Vonetta had made her own chart. The Jackson Five at Madison Square Garden was printed on top, all words spelled neatly and correctly. She had taken a ruler to make three columns and wrote our names at the top of each. She wrote 50¢ under my name, 5¢ under Fern’s, and 10¢ under her own.
    â€œI’m in charge of saving,” Vonetta announced as if that was news. “So when you get allowance money and birthday money, you have to put it in the Madison Square Garden savings jar.”
    She sat an empty dill pickle jar on the table next to her savings chart. It made a nice, sharp knock against the table. She drew and colored a picture of five guys with Afros and glued that over the dill pickle label. The lid with its slot cut into the top was taped with many rounds of masking tape to the glass. It looked likea mummy jar instead of a savings jar.
    â€œHow’d you make that slot?” I asked, and ran my finger along its two-inch opening.
    â€œShe didn’t slot it,” Fern said. “Papa did it.”
    â€œPapa did that for you?”
    â€œYep,” she said. “I taped the lid to the jar so no one can steal the money.”
    â€œHope you washed out that jar real good with hot water and soap. Hope you washed away the dill-pickle smell.”
    â€œSmelly dill pickles!” Fern said. She found that to be funny.
    â€œI’m the saver, Delphine. Stop trying to be in charge,” Vonetta snapped. “I figured it out and we’re doing it my way.” She laid a sheet of paper next to her mummy jar. “You can’t just drop money into the Jackson Five at Madison Square Garden savings jar.”
    â€œSurely can’t.”
    â€œYou have to deposit it like at the bank,” she said. “The Jackson Five concert is in December. That’s four months from now. So when Papa gives us our allowance, you write how much money you’re putting in by your name next to ‘week number one.’ Every week I, the saver, add up what we put in. Then I minus that from the twelve dollars. That’ll be our magic number. How much we’ll need for the concert.” Papa had promised to pay for the other half.
    I couldn’t believe she had thought up all of that. Vonettahated doing story problems in the third grade. She had even written Take some of Fern’s money as her answer to a homework question about not having enough money to buy two bags of popcorn.
    It nearly choked me to say it, but I did. “That’s good, Vonetta.”
    â€œSee, Delphine. You’re not the only one good at being in charge.”
    I was only glad Miss Hendrix wasn’t around to smile and say, “You see, Delphine. You were the oppressor. You tried to keep your sisters down.”

Grade Six
    I put on my new jumper. The one Lucy had shoved in Big Ma’s hands. I felt ready for the sixth grade and couldn’t wait to be in Miss Honeywell’s class. She was the youngest, nicest teacher in the school and the best dresser. She assigned her class fun science, art, and history projects, and she wasn’t a yeller like the other sixth-grade teachers.
    I walked Fern down to where the second graders lined up. Vonetta broke away from us and ran off the minute she spotted her friends from last year. I didn’t blame her. I couldn’t wait to be away from my sisters and among my classmates.