Keesha's House Read Online Free Page A

ain’t how she was raised—she knows what’s right!
    But ever since she took up with that ol’ fat
    ugly thing she call a man, seem like she might
    do anything. Now she don’t even know
    her child’s in trouble. Least she could do is call!
    Lord knows, I want to get the child free.
    I want to help her straighten out. But oh,
    it’s hard. Lord, give me strength to carry all
    the burdens people tryin’ to put on me.

CAN’T RISK TAKING ANY ACTION      MR. HYDE (ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL)
    I got a student complaint this afternoon.
    A Harris Murphy claims he was harassed.
    Note in his locker, incident in the lunchroom
    involving Bradley Smith. We could get slapped
    with a lawsuit, either way we go.
    Brad’s mother is a lawyer. I can’t risk
    taking any action until I know
    the facts. This isn’t drugs, where we can frisk
    the suspect, search for evidence. I
    gave the boy a pamphlet. My advice:
    Gain some weight. Consider what you wear.
    Stand up and look the bully in the eye.
    I told him: You’re too young to make this choice.
    Just wait. There’s lots of pretty girls out there.

NOT MUCH I CAN DO      MRS. GOLDSTEIN (KATIE’S ENGLISH TEACHER)
    Katie used to be among the best
    students in my sophomore honors class.
    Her work was careful, A’s on every test,
    good writer, conscientious. For the last
    few weeks, or maybe months—when did this start?—
    her grades have fallen, first to C’s, now D’s.
    She’s not doing the reading; there’s no heart
    behind her writing. She’s in class, but she’s
    half asleep, and when I ask her to stay
    after school, she says sorry, she can’t,
    she has to be at work by three o’clock.
    She didn’t turn her paper in today.
    It’s half her midterm grade. I guess I’ll grant
    her extra time. She doesn’t want to talk.

ACROSS WHATEVER SECRET      STEPHIE
    Keesha found me crying in the doughnut shop across
    the street from where she lives. I was sitting there alone
    late Friday night. Stephie, is that you?
    She sat down in the booth with me. The doughnut shop
    was almost empty, just one old man and me. It stays
    open all night long, and it seemed safe, but I was getting kind
    of nervous. Keesha’s face looks hard sometimes, but she’s kind-
    hearted. Her eyes can look right through you. Straight across
    whatever secret you might carry, she follows and stays
    with you. I must have felt a little more alone
    than I admitted, because when she sat down, the doughnut shop
    seemed brighter. My words just simmered up. I said, You
    won’t tell anyone, will you?
    She looked at me and shook her head, kind
    of like nothing is a secret. She told me, There’s a shop
    that sells used baby stuff, two blocks down from here, across
    from Pizza Hut. I knew about it. I’d gone in there alone
    the day before, thinking, if this baby stays
    with me, how will I take care of it? Keesha stayed
    and talked (well, listened) for two hours. When I asked, Where do you
    live? she brought me here. She lives here alone,
    I mean no parents; the kids who live here kind
    of fend for themselves, I guess. A room across
    from Keesha’s is empty, sort of. A guy set up a shop
    to make jewelry out of colored wire, and in one corner of the shop
    there’s a bed. Keesha said, No one stays
    here right now; you can use that bed. Across
    the street, people were fighting, a woman was yelling, You
    bastard! I pulled down the shade, tried not to hear. That kind
    of thing, these days, makes me throw up. Keesha left me alone
    and I kept thinking, Can I raise a child alone?
    Do my homework every night and then go out to shop
    for formula and Pampers? What kind
    of mother would I be? Not one that stays
    home and sings lullabies, that’s for sure. Not someone you
    would trust to guide a child across
    the kind of world I see out there. You
    can’t shop for what you