Free Also Known As Harper by Ann Haywood Leal

making her up a thick peanut-butter sandwich. I cut it twice so it came out in four little squares. That way she could get it down faster.
    She patted my arm and took a big bite.
    I put out an apple for dessert. “They had these in a bowl at the front desk.”
    â€œThey were out for the taking,” Hem said, carefully. He wanted to make sure Mama knew we came by it honestly. He’d had a problem, a couple of years back, of coming home with extra things from the supermarket. Bunches of grapes and kitchen sponges and such. For some reason he’d loved those bright yellow kitchen sponges, and they always managed to make their way under his shirt. Mama finally caughtwind of it when he had about fifteen or twenty of them laid out side by side as a squishy road for his little cars.
    Mama had been fit to be tied when she’d seen his stolen yellow road. But Daddy just smiled and shook his head.
Ease up a little, Georgia,
he’d said to Mama.
He’s not a criminal, for heaven’s sake. He’s just a little kid.
And Daddy had taken Hem’s hands in his and leaned in close to him.
From now on, you keep your hands tight in your pockets when you go into the store with your mother, Hem.
    I had known without a doubt, if it had been me doing the taking, Daddy would’ve marched me right down to the police station.
    I wondered if Mama was doing some remembering of her own.
    She smiled a sad sort of smile, the kind where you start one up and don’t quite finish it, and leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.” She pulled off a piece of bread crust and chewed it slowly, as if it was the fancy, expensive kind from the bakery downtown. That was the thing about Mama. She acted like I’d spent all day on dinner.
    But then she reached for her white notepad, and she started back up with her worrying. As soon as shegot her pencil out and began adding and subtracting, her chewing got short and fast and her shoulders hunched up around her ears.
    When I saw her eyebrow make a crooked line across her forehead, I knew I wasn’t going to school tomorrow, either. I had thought only Daddy could ruin the contest for me this year, but I guessed I was wrong.
    I blew short, quick breaths out of my mouth, up toward my eyes, the kind that help the tears stay back, and I went into the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind me. I sat down on the toilet and closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was back in my old bedroom. Before it ended up on our front lawn.
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    MAMA DIDN ’ T EVEN bother waking me up to tell me. The first thing I saw in the morning was the chocolates on the little table by the window. Mama sometimes got them from one of her housecleaning jobs. Miss Oakley left them for her when she worked extra. The square gold box was scooted toward the edge of the table, and a piece of paper from Mama’s notepad was tucked underneath at one corner. She had drawn a heart in the middle of the paper with my name in it.
    Usually, I was quick to hide those chocolates before Hem got his hands on them. But today I didn’t even care. I just wanted to get to school.
    When Hem woke up, he didn’t reach for his handwriting book first thing, like he usually did. He pulled his pants on and went right over to the front window. “They come by yet?” He grabbed the shirt Mama had laid out from the back of the chair and pulled it over his head.
    â€œIt’s too early, Hem.” This was the time when I usually got out my clothes for school and put my lunch together. I looked at my backpack propped against the wall. My blue notebook was leaning against it, and I thought about Mrs. Rodriguez calling my row to come up to her desk.
    Then I saw her skipping over my empty desk and moving to the next row.
    I grabbed my comb. “Come on, Hem.” I handed it to him. “Go into the bathroom and run this through your hair. And don’t forget to brush