Free Peas and Carrots by Tanita S. Davis

coffeemaker, because this only makes, like, four cups.”
    I give her a look. “I only need
one.
”
    Hope rolls her eyes in explanation. “Dad. He’ll drink all four, trust me. Haven’t you noticed he’s hyper?”
    I sit down at the table, reluctant to be the one to cut the frittata but not sure what else to do. It’s almost seven, and no one seems to be in any hurry to get to the charter school. It’s so different from the group home. At this hour, there’d be bacon smoking on the stove and eggs sputtering and popping in the fat, and the cook, Carol, yelling, “Order up!” like we were in a diner. People would be grabbing plates and grabbing jackets, social workers would be coming in the door, and Rena would be yelling at people to hurry and not miss the bus.
    It feels too weird to be two girls in a kitchen, just…quiet.
    I don’t like it. I know I won’t like this new school. Too much quiet, with too many rich people. And they’re crazy, all of them. Skinny little Mr. Carter. Big old Amazon lady. Hopeless and that dying kid. Everything’s messed up. Farris just had to move me in with Baby, didn’t she? My life was getting too good.
    “My tummy’s rumbling,” Baby announces, barreling into the kitchen. “Hi, Dessa!” he adds, like he hasn’t already seen me this morning.
    “Austin, what do you do if—” Hope breaks off, pausing as she dumps coffee from the grinder into the small glass pitcher. She glances at me and licks her lips. “Ask Dessa what to do if your tummy’s rumbling,” she says, and for a moment I panic. Why the hell does she want Baby asking me? And then I remember. I’m the sister. This is what I do.
    “Um…no toys at the table, wash your hands, and sit down,” I say, trying to sound like Foster Lady. It must work for her. Baby looks at me like I’m crazy, his little forehead all wrinkled up and cranky.
    “I washed my hands yesterday,” he complains, and stomps out of the kitchen.
    I don’t even know I’m smiling until I see Hope grinning back at me.

On the front steps of the admin building, the vice principal was waiting in a bright fuchsia suit with a ruffled collar. “Hello, hello!” Ms. Aiello warbled, waving. Her lipstick, kind of a deep pinkish color, had come off on her top teeth. Hope thought this made her look like an aging vampire.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Carter,” the vice principal said, even though the two of them normally called each other “Robin” and “Barbara.” “Is this our girl?”
    Our.
Hope winced. It was too early for this.
    “Good morning. Yes, this is Dessa Matthews,” Mom said, and gently set her hand on Dess’s shoulder to bring her forward. Dess shrugged it off and stepped to the side, looking, as far as Hope could tell, at the fabric in Ms. Aiello’s skirt.
    “Nice suit,” Dess said, unsmiling. “That’s a great color.”
    “Why, thank you,” Ms. Aiello said, and beamed with pink teeth.
    Was she even
serious
? Dess had to be playing suck-up, because that suit was
seriously
hideous. Hope decided she didn’t want to know—and standing around through introductions was pointless. With a wave to Austin, who ignored her in favor of watching the big kids in the hall, wide-eyed, Hope edged around to the side of the group, hoping to escape.
    “Don’t run away yet, Hope Carter,” Ms. Aiello caroled. “You’re Dessa’s tour guide for the morning. After homeroom, please report to my office.”
    Hope grimaced. She was stuck with Dess at school, too? Mom must’ve told Aiello about her “consequence.” Then Hope saw the look on Dess’s face and felt a fresh wave of humiliation—Dess looked as if she’d swallowed something that wasn’t going down.
    It was obvious Dess didn’t want to hang out with her. Well, Hope didn’t want to hang out with Dess, either. She lifted her chin. “Um, Ms. Aiello? Can’t somebody else do it?”
    Her mother’s eyes widened. Ms. Aiello’s pursed lips looked like a pair of bumpy raspberries as