The Pride – page 6
Quintenerra, 6
(Romina’s middle child)
My Mommy embarrasses us. She doesn’t mean to. She can’t help it. She’s slow. I heard my grandparents call her retarded. I asked my teacher what retarded meant, and she said it means slow to learn. My teacher wanted to know why I was asking her about that word, and I started crying. I think she thought about my Mommy then, who’d come up and volunteered in my class, and she realized why I was asking. The other kids laughed at my Mommy. She wasn’t like their Mommies. My teacher assured me I’m not retarded. She said I should be in the second or third grade, based on my abilities. I asked her if I could go to the second or third grade now. She laughed cheerily and told me she thought I needed to stay with children my own age but that she would give me higher-level work so I wouldn’t get bored with school. I was excited at first and then I thought about it. If my Mommy can’t read or write that good, do I want to be able to read and write better than her? Wouldn’t that make my Mommy feel bad? I wonder if it would be OK to pretend I’m retarded. I don’t know.
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William & Naomi
William sat at the desk in the room he shared with his little brother. He was trying to find the right words to put on the paper that would convince his father to allow him to move in with him. He reasoned that sending a letter was better than asking over the phone, because he could get all his thoughts out before his father interrupted with questions. William reasoned he could also be proactive in his letter and answer all the questions he could think his Dad would ask.
“Yes,” William responded to the soft rap on his door.
“May I come in?” Naomi’s muffled voice traveled to him through the closed door.
“I’m busy, Mi-Mi. Can you come back later?” William scratched through a sentence on his paper and started it over on the next line.
“I really need to talk with you, Big Brother.” Naomi never called William “Big Brother” unless she really needed to talk. She wasn’t a pest like other people’s little sisters. He liked talking with her, and he respected her. She was actually a great little sister, so he tried to accommodate her whenever he could. She did the same for him when he needed to talk.
“OK. Come in.” William covered the paper with one of his school books. He shifted in his chair to face the door as Naomi turned the knob and pushed it open.
“Hey,” Naomi said as she hugged herself and inched into the room. She closed the door with her back and leaned against it. She stood by the door studying her shoes. William found this odd, since she normally came straight over to his bed and sat across from him while he sat at the desk. He decided not to mention the change.
“Hey,” William said focusing in on his sister’s tear-stained face. “Mi-mi, why are you crying?” When she didn’t answer him, he started to get concerned. “When’s Mother coming home?”
“She’ll be home in about three hours,” Naomi responded without looking up. This caused William to frown slightly.
“What’s on your mind?”