Monday's Not Coming

. Why did you?”

She shook her head, tears welling up fast. “’Cause you ain’t never stop looking for her. Never.”

Cause you ain’t never stop looking for her. Never.”

A lot of them are the same kinda books. Books that deal with like . . . child abuse stuff.”

“Dang, Ma would never let me. She’d kill me for even asking!”

Monday’s face tensed, her pupils shrinking the way Ma’s did after coming home from the eye doctor.

Ms. Moser opened Monday’s file again, flipping through papers. Why is it so thick?

Worry painted across her face, she twitched nervously. “Um, is there anything else you want me to take a look at?”

“Like what?”

“Any other . . . injuries you may have . . . that you want me to examine? Any bruises?”

just ’cause someone got a roof, don’t make it a home

“But . . . where’s August? You just gonna leave him?”

She froze as if I’d said something terrifying and stuttered through an answer.

“He’s . . . sick. Mom . . . kept him home.”

Monday clutched her desk as if she thought it would be ripped from under her. Her braids were fuzzier than I’d ever seen them, the ends unraveling and dry

Monday’s face twitched and darkened. “It’s . . . different. Trust me. You’re better off without them.”