My Homework Ate My Homework Read Online Free Page A

down with me, Zaritza,” Mother says, and pats the bed.
    “Why? Are we going to have a talk?”
    “Sit,” she says more sternly.
    I sit.
    “Zaritza, how many times do I have to remind you that when you neglect your responsibilities you must face the consequences?”
    “And how many times do I have to tell
you
that I don’t like responsibilities, or consequences?” I pinch my eyebrows together, which I know wrinkles my forehead, making me look filled with despair.
    “But you are showing so much more independence these days,” Mother says. “You help in the kitchen, and you clean your room.…”
    That’s true. I don’t mind helping in the kitchen when it means chopping or mixing or stirring. But I don’t like the washing or drying or putting away. I do
not
like taking out garbage or compost. And I guess I do keep my room pretty clean. It doesn’t look like an earthquake hit it, like my friend Wain’s does, that’s for sure. But then I don’t do a lot in here except rehearse in the mirror and sleep. I have a lot of costumes, but I have a big trunk to stuff them into.
    “For the most part, you’re being a good role model for Abby,” she goes on.
    “For the most part? Don’t I brush my teeth and make my bed? She doesn’t even
have
teeth. Or a bed! She doesn’t have to do anything. She doesn’t even go to the bathroom by herself!”
    “She really looks up to you, Zee. I’d like her not to make excuses when she loses something, or blame other people. Like your glasses, or the necklace you borrowed from me?”
    It’s the old bait and switch. She hooks me with compliments, then starts complaining.
    “I’m sorry about the necklace.” I cast my eyes down. “I left it in the bathroom. Someone else probably knocked it into the sink. And I’ve been looking everywhere for the glasses.”
    “They were very expensive, Zee. We bought them because you need them.”
    “I know,” I say, and slouch. I do feel a little bad about this, even though I know exactly where they are. They aren’t lost; they’re hidden. I don’t want to wear glasses. Actors only wear them onstage, as part of a costume.
    “Here’s the thing. Bandito already ruined my vacation. Now he ruined my math homework, and I don’t want to spend the little time I haveleft doing math. I want to enjoy my time off. I deserve it.”
    “But—” she starts to say. I cut her off.
    “I’m sure Mr. O. will understand. I’m sure he’ll count the homework even though I can’t turn it in. What matters is that I did it, right? That I understand it?” Of course, I didn’t do it or understand it.
    I pause, awaiting Mother’s verdict. She musses my hair, a good sign, then stands up.
    “You can take it up with Mr. O. after the break if you like. But if you don’t get a passing grade this semester, there will be—”
    “Consequences. So I’ve heard.”

Mother leaves and, because she doesn’t close the door behind her again, Abalina crawls in.
    “Zuzza!” she says. “Zuzza! Fur!”
    “He’s not—oh, never mind. Come here.”
    I hold my arms out, and she crawls to me across the carpet. Then she rolls back onto her huge, diapered butt. She wobbles when she sits, like she’s a gigantic egg turned up on its end. I reach out for her fat little hands and she latches onto my thumbs. The kid has an iron grip.
    “Okay, Abalina, stand up,” I say, and tug a little. “Uppy.”
    She pulls my thumbs and rises up to her feet. She’s wearing a pale yellow onesie with a picture of a bright red ladybug on it. CUTE AS A BUG itreads in curly letters. Her fat thighs stick out of the leg holes. How will her little feet ever hold up so much weight?
    “It’s time you learned to walk,” I say, and start slowly pulling my thumbs free.
    She giggles, then her body folds in the middle. Her diaper swings forward, but, before it hits me, she straightens up and the diaper swings back.
    “Dah!” she says.
    This is her idea of dancing.
    “Yeah, dancing. But