Money Hungry Read Online Free Page B

race, and how Ming feels about being mixed, too. Ming don’t want to be called black, African American, or Korean. He says he’s biracial. Mai don’t want to be called Korean or biracial. She’s black. Call her anything different, and she will go off on you.
    Ja’nae won’t stop talking about her paper for school. She’s saying maybe she will even interview Mr. Kim, Mai’s dad.
    Mai’s looking like she wanna hurt somebody. “Why don’t you go write about your own screwed-up family,” she says, getting up in Ja’nae’s face, stomping loud on the floor. Now Zora’s dad is yelling upstairs for us to stop making so much noise, to stop acting like hoodlums, and start acting like young ladies.
    Ja’nae and Mai get real quiet, but they’re still in each other’s face.
    “You interview my dad, or Ming and I’ll . . . I’ll . . . I’ll tell your grandfather you snuck Ming into your house when he wasn’t home.”
    Ja’nae’s eyes get all big. She knows what happens to sneaks in her granddad’s house.
    They get into big-time trouble.
    Jan’ae tries to defend herself. “It’s not like we did anything. We just watched TV. Anyhow, my grandmother knows about Ming. She was there when he came over.”
    “So your grandmother gonna get in trouble, too,” Mai says, rubbing Vaseline on her eyebrows.
    Zora don’t seem bothered by none of this. She’s just watching it all, lying on her bed, still stuffing her face with cheese balls.
    “Forget you and your brother and your whole stupid family,” Ja’nae says.
    All of a sudden, Zora’s making this sound like a cat coughing up hair balls. Soggy, half chewed-up cheese balls come flying out her mouth and all over Ja’nae’s feet.
    “You pig . You did that on purpose,” Ja’nae says, shaking her foot, kicking cheese stuff onto Zora’s white rug.
    Soon Ja’nae’s got Zora pressed down on her bed, and she’s pouring the can of cheese balls down her shirt. Mai and me grab the can and start bouncing cheese balls off each other’s head.
    When I look up, there’s Zora’s mom standing in the doorway. “What’s going on here?” she wants to know. “Pick up the mess and keep down the noise, girls,” she says, stomping over to the bed, and jerking Ja’nae’s hands off Zora.
    I want to ask why she even cares what’s going on. She ain’t living here no more. Her and Zora’s dad are divorced, only you wouldn’t know it. Her mom comes by a couple times a week and walks around the house like she owns it. Tells the housekeeper what to do, stuff like that.
    Zora thinks it’s goofy, too. But her parents say they don’t want their divorce to change her life.
    When Ms. Mitchell turns around to leave, I grab one of the cheese balls and throw it after her. It gets stuck in the back of her hair.
    “Somebody thinks they’re funny?” she asks, stomping out the room, pulling the cheese ball out her hair. Ja’nae falls down on the bed, laughing, with her hand over her mouth. Zora runs into her bathroom, slams the door, and starts cracking up. I cover my head with a blanket, but I can hear Ms. Mitchell walking down the steps, saying she don’t know why we always gotta be hanging out at her child’s house. Me, I’m wondering the same thing about her.

The principal put it in writing this time.
Dear Ms. Hill: Your daughter is no longer permitted to sell items in the school. Her entrepreneurial spirit has brought us more than our share of complaints. Just yesterday, three students came to me complaining about something else she had sold them. Two weeks ago, it was the Valentine’s Day incident. The next item or items that she brings to sell at Beacon Middle School will result in her suspension....
    We’re in the car on the way to school again. The windows are foggy, and it’s raining real hard. Momma hands me the letter from the principal. She says she don’t wanna get no more letters like this from him. “As of this minute, you are out of business, young lady.