when she said âM-Y-O-B!â Her booming voice filled every space in my brain like an endless lionâs roar. In my mind, I could see that ferocious beastâa big brown lion in a puffy red coat, tearing into me with her fangs. And, when she finished, leaving me on the groundâa heap of brown noodles with blood-red sauce.
Â
A while after Mr. Flanagan had come by to drive Carli home, my parents and I sat at the dinner table.
âTaneesha, I spoke to Marsha,â said Mama, all teeth. âMy supervisor. She said you and Carli can start coming to the hospital on Friday afternoons to read to the children. Howâs that sound?â
âFine.â
I stared at the food on my plate.
âI called Carliâs father this afternoon and told him about it. You two can start this Friday.â
I could hardly hear Mama. Only the sound of Sasquatch the Bigfootâs lionâs roar: â M-Y-O-B !â I knew that was two different creatures mixed
togetherâSasquatch/Bigfoot and a lionâbut I heard it anyway. I just knew I was fixing to be that ugly creatureâs meal.
âYou remember Shantay, right? The little girl? I told her, too. Sheâs all excited.â
I didnât move, blink, or speak.
I wished Mama would stop talking. Her voice was scratching at my brain like sandpaper. Add that to the big beast howling in my head and it was enough to make a girl go crazy.
âAre you all right?â she asked.
âYeah, Mama. Iâm fine.â
âYou sure, honey? Youâre mighty quiet today. I thought youâd be happy about this news. Last week you were so excited about Carli coming with you to the hospital.â
âI said Iâm okay, Mama. All right?â
âTaneesha, watch your tone with your mother,â warned Daddy, mid-chew.
âIâm done now anyway.â
I scooted back, stood, and grabbed my plate off the table. The food looked gross.
âWait, donât throw that outââ began Mama.
Too late.
My uneaten dinnerâa grilled salmon filet,
brown rice and steamed broccoli, carrots and cauliflowerâslid into the garbage pail.
âGirl, do you know how much salmon costs?!â
Youâd have thought Iâd just thrown her into the garbage.
I felt a twinge of guilt. I thought of the bony, starving kids that she always told me about when I threw away food. But the guilt passed. I just wanted to get out of there.
âSorry,â I said, not meaning it. âI got to study.â
I flounced out of the kitchen. I knew Iâd flounced because I felt my parentsâ eyes drilling into my back and looking at me all like âWhy are you flouncing out on us?â
I walked through the living room and caught sight of the altar. I stopped. I thought about the practice, about all the times Iâd chanted with my parents but hadnât really wanted to. I thought about how Iâd only done it because theyâd made me.
Iâd chanted at meetings but I was always glad when I could escape. The only times Iâd practiced on my own were when I wanted something real badâlike not getting nominated for class president. Now that had worked out real well, hadnât it?
But sometimes Nam Myoho Renge Kyo came through. Like when I chanted at the hospital Friday. But then again, I could have done the same thing without chanting. All I had to do was read to some little kids. That was nothing when you got right down to it.
But what about my bike? My magenta ten-speed from Summit Cycles? Mama and Daddy were all set to buy me a $35 used bike from Mr. Garrett, the bike man down the street. But I chanted for the ten-speed Iâd seen in the window at Summit Cycles. And the bike shop ended up putting the last one, the floor model, on sale for exactly $35. I got it for my birthday. No getting around that, I chanted me up a new bike. A nice one, too.
But even for stuff Iâd really wanted, like my bike,