Read Online Peas and Carrots by Tanita S. Davis - Free Book Online

house—no wind, no trees, no dogs, no cars, nothing. The group home was in a decent neighborhood, but these rich folks are quiet like the dead. I didn’t even hear the baby crying last night, and I know they do, all night long.
    I’m not trying to be talking to Hopeless first thing, so I don’t even push on her door very much to see if it’s locked. It figures she sleeps right till the last minute. For sure she doesn’t put any kind of
time
into her look, like I do. Whatever. It’s time to find something more than the granola bars I boosted from the snack cabinet last night. I need food. Now.
    But it’s quiet in the hall—way quiet—and I don’t smell anything coming from the kitchen. I strain my ears. Where the hell are these people? Finally I hear a soft thud upstairs. I follow the sound to the open doors of the family room—and just about choke.
    “Oh,
nuh-
uh.”
    Foster Lady has her big backside shoved into a pair of thin cotton pants that hug her thick thighs. She’s standing on a little purple mat, arms stretched high, right foot placed on her thigh, balanced only on her left leg. When she hears me, she doesn’t even twitch. Her chin is pointed up, her eyes on the ceiling, and she’s breathing slowly, in…out…in…out…
    “Um…Mrs….um…Robin?”
    Foster Lady drops her arms and exhales a long
whoosh
of sound, smiles at me, and then reaches for her left leg. She places it high on her inner thigh, balances there for a moment, lifts her arms, and tilts her head again…in…out…in…out.
    So can she not talk today or what? I raise my eyebrows, hands on my hips.
    “Good morning, Dess,” Foster Lady says finally, and keeps breathing.
    “I didn’t think black people really did yoga.”
    Foster Lady inhales slowly and then breathes out. “Black people are just people, Dess. People of all kinds do whatever they feel like doing.” She exhales and smiles, bringing her arms and leg down again, standing still. “I feel like doing yoga.”
    “Yeah? So what are you…doing?” I move closer, curious. Foster Lady stands with her legs all wide, practically doing the splits, and then she stretches out her arms.
    “I was just in what’s called Tree Pose, followed by the Mountain Pose. Now I’m doing an Extended Triangle Pose, which is going to take me, next, to a Lunge….” Foster Lady goes over sideways, slowly but smoothly, her arms still outstretched. She breathes a moment, then asks, “Did you want to try it with me?”
    I hold up a hand. “
Please.
I am not into that hippie crap.” Foster Lady’s legs seem bigger than ever, bulging, as she uses her muscles to stay steady. It must be harder than it looks; a little sweat shines on her face and arms.
    She laughs. “That’s Hope, too. Yoga is too slow for her.”
    Riiight.
Hopeless is nothing
but
slow. Foster Lady surprises me with her muscles and all, but I’m solid
certain
that Hope couldn’t stand on just one of her fat tree-trunk legs if you paid her. Where is she, anyway? You’d think her own mother would make her lazy butt get up.
    “You going to do this all day?”
    Foster Lady grins and doesn’t answer for a moment. “Breakfast will be on the table at seven, Dess. It’s written on the schedule I gave you last night. Remember?”
    “I’m not hungry, I just asked,” I say, feeling stupid. She
did
give me some little green piece of paper to put on my bulletin board. I’m supposed to meet a counselor today, and then she’s making me go for a doctor’s appointment. I swear she’s worse than Rena. I just
went
to the doctor with the group home, before school started. I keep telling these people there’s never nothing wrong with me.
    The sliding glass door rumbles in its track, and Hope comes in. She’s wearing a pair of black sweats and a T-shirt. She’s holding a laptop under one arm and a pair of little balls in her hands. She tucks the little balls behind the recliner closest to the door.
    “Hey, Dess. You got up early.