I walked right on past Ma without saying a word. Not even hey Ma. I knew better than that. Ma didn’t put up with that kind of disrespect. But I didn’t know I had done it until she was in the kitchen, damned near on top of me. She still had on her tight black uniform from work. Her shoes were untied, not off. But she had already rolled her hair. I heard Diana Ross pretending to be Billie Holiday coming from the living room. Ma had put that in the VCR for the fifth time that month. The whole house was dark. The glow from the TV lit my way to the kitchen.

“Answer me, Shivana. Where you been?”

“I was hanging out with Nakesha,” I lied.

“And you couldn’t call nobody?”

“We was out and I didn’t have no change to make a call.”

“Not even one quarter?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Well you could have called me if you wasn’t gonna be home ’til six o’clock. It’s gettin’ dark outside. You know I don’t like worrying about where you at.”

I couldn’t tell her, “Don’t worry then.” There was some sloppy joe sitting on top of the stove in our black skillet, right next to a cold pot of canned sweet corn. The corn made me nauseous because I imagined punched-out, yellowed teeth. I walked around her to get a plate. I was starving, all the time. Now I knew why. Aunt Jewel was out; she had lain low for the first couple of weeks, but had recently gotten around to making pit stops to the relatives who seemed to have forgotten even me and Ma, and we were still here. Then Ma just stood against the table with her arms folded, like she was expecting me to say something else. I opened the refrigerator to get the bread, but Ma slammed it shut so hard the handle scraped my hand.

“You gonna come up in this house late without no explanation, feed your face, and not even say ‘Hi Mama’?”

“Hi Mama,” I managed with my hand in my mouth.

Just like I thought her and Jewel could smell the sex panties, I imagined they could smell a baby’s breath inside me. I backed away from her. Her nose picked up on the closest thing.

“You ain’t messin’ around with no boy is you?” she spat, grabbing my arm so my hand cut from between my teeth and stung even more.

“No,” I whined, starting to cry again.

“I mean it, Shivana. You better tell me if you are.”