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“nice kids.”
    Upstairs in my room, I touched the clean blue sheets we had put on Rebecca’s bed. For a moment I felt like we were cheating her, her small roll-away cot looking dwarfed beside my double bed. The thin mattress smelled like the attic. But there was no way I was going to let her or anyone else stay in Grandma’s room. Even if it meant sharing my bedroom with a pregnant girl.
    Although the house was spotless, I decided to vacuum the living room. The center of our living room sinks down into a small carpeted area with a fireplace opposite the large fish tank.
    By the time I’d finished, Ma’s car was pulling up. Ma had left a roast in the microwave, and I pressed it for ten on my way to the door.
    â€œHi, honey. Get the other bag out of the car, please,” Ma said, bustling in with a bag of groceries. “We stopped at the store. Rebecca doesn’t eat meat.”
    I held the door for her, then went to the trunk. I couldn’t see anyone on the passenger side until the girl lifted her head from the backseat.
    She groaned as she got out of the car. The first thing I saw was her stomach beneath a too-small coat. I was peeking from around the trunk and she turned and caught me.
    â€œYou never seen a pregnant girl before?” She pulled her lips into a thin line and the dimples on the side of her face deepened. There were pimples dotting her forehead, and above them, curly hair cut short like a boy’s. I glanced away quickly.
    â€œWell, have you?” She came around to the back of the car and watched as I lifted the groceries out. “Man, this sure is the country,” she said, taking a look around. “Nobody told me I was going to the country.”
    I held the bag of groceries in one hand and slammed the trunk door with the other.
    Rebecca pulled a small suitcase from the backseat, then followed me inside.
    â€œWow!” she said, looking around the living room. “This is like a mansion or something.” I must have frowned a little. “You people are rich. I didn’t know rich black people existed except on television.” She put her bag down and walked over to the fish tank. She was a little clumsy because she leaned forward slightly to hide her stomach. “Look at this!” she said. “Look at all those fishes.”
    â€œFish.”
    She straightened up and turned to me. “Look. Just ’cause I’m in your ritzy little house,” she hissed, “doesn’t mean you gonna teach me how to talk and tell me what to do. I don’t want to be in this mansion in the boring country nohow! You think you special or something, but I know all about you, Feni Harris. Your mama says you don’t talk to nobody and you don’t have any friends. So you better consider yourself lucky that I’m here, whether I’m here saying fishes, fish, or fried fish !” She put her hands on her hips and stared at me.
    â€œThe word’s still fish, ” I said, taking the groceries into the kitchen.
    â€œI guess we should try to refreeze this,” Ma said, standing at the microwave holding the roast in her hands. “Rebecca’s a vegetarian, so we won’t be eating it for a while.”
    I began putting the groceries away. “I still eat meat. Just because she doesn’t, does that mean everybody’s diet has to change?”
    Ma looked at me. “I still eat meat too. We’ll work around that.” She put the meat in the refrigerator, then came over to me and looked out the window above my head. “I wonder where Marion is. I’m sure she didn’t forget about today,” she said. “Rebecca seems like a sweet girl, doesn’t she?”
    I was about to say something, but Rebecca came into the kitchen. “Ms. Harris, this is a great house!” She sat down heavily and rubbed her stomach. “It must have cost you a million dollars. That couch is real leather, isn’t