—You’re a disgrace to your father’s memory. Esperanza was now teary eyed.

It wasn’t like Dallas was getting left back. Esperanza would never understand what her life was like. She took everything her children did personally: Esperanza should feel lucky that Dallas didn’t report her to the authorities for abuse. Hit me, Mami, Dallas wanted to say. I’ll get the camera and tell on your ass.

—What do you want from me, Dallas? I don’t know what to do with you anymore!

All Dallas wanted was to have the same freedom Bobby had. He came and went as he pleased. Even before juvie, no one asked him shit.

—Bobby goes to jail and you have me making him dinner. You got me making his dinner and washing his clothes. Why don’t you make him do something around here?

—He’s a man. You know a man can only use one burner at a time or else they burn the entire house down.

—It’s the nineties,…feminism…have you heard of the concept?

—What am I going to do with you? Esperanza got up. She slapped the slip of paper against Dallas’s head. —You’re so hardheaded. Just like ese abuelo tuyo.

Dallas rolled her eyes. She tried to remember the lyrics from a song she had heard that morning. The water running, her mother sighing. Dallas was glad that she didn’t inherit her mother’s hair. The way it stuck out of the ponytail holder. It didn’t grow. And no matter how hard Esperanza tried to cover her black roots with red hair dye, her roots exposed her. Maybe it was because she resisted. Maybe if she left her hair all natural, it would look beautiful. But Esperanza tried to control everything, even her hair. Dallas dug her hand inside her own mass of hair. The curls fell over her face. She looked over at the mirror by the table and spread her hair evenly around her head so one couldn’t tell the front of her head from the back. Her hair was thick like her father’s.

—Dallas, don’t put your hair on your face like that, it scares me.

Dallas twirled her hair with her fingers.

—Dallas!

—I hate my name! Don’t say it out loud. It makes me want to barf.

—What’s wrong with a name like Dallas?

—It’s a freaking city, Mom.

Esperanza looked horrified. That mouth.

—Dallas, you be quiet right now, because you’re crossing the line. I’ve put up with enough of you.

Dallas covered her face with her hair again. Inside her hair, she was no longer visible. You couldn’t tell if she was coming or going. She closed her eyes and saw bloody red.

—Dallas! Why won’t you listen to me?

Esperanza’s words blended together as if they were one long piano note.

Esperanza got up and gathered her things. She was late for Mr. Hernández.

—If you get left back, I swear, Dallas, I’ll ship your ass to D.R. so quick.

Dallas looked up at her mother through her locks. Esperanza was looking down at her, holding a pair of scissors. Dallas imagined her mother stabbing her or even stabbing herself.