Chances Are. Donna Hill

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СКАЧАТЬ her up and downstairs to day care, and you hurry up. I don’t want to hear any excuses about you being late for class. I expect to see you downstairs in a half hour. Understood?”

      “Yes, Ms. Williams.”

      “Good. Now get moving before Ms. Betsy catches me.”

      Gina giggled. “Okay.”

      Dione turned away, smiling. Gina had potential. She could see it in her schoolwork, in her conversation. Gina had a future that Dione didn’t want to see her lose because of having a baby too young. She just needed someone to remind her that she was worthy and worthwhile. They all did.

      Walking down the hall and then upstairs to the third floor, Denise and her two-year-old son Mahlik were on their way down, followed by Kisha who carried her six-month-old daughter Anayshia in her arms.

      From the moment Kisha moved into the residence, three months earlier, she and Denise were inseparable. It was like watching a modern-day miracle. The once recalcitrant and hostile Denise began to bloom, watered and fed by Kisha’s friendship and outgoing personality.

      “Good morning ladies, and gentleman,” Dione greeted, bending to give Mahlik a quick kiss on the cheek.

      “Mornin’, Ms. Williams,” they chorused.

      Dione took a peek inside the pink bundle in Kisha’s arms. “How is Anayshia feeling?”

      “Much better. I took her to the doctor like you said and I’ve been giving her the new formula.”

      “So it was the formula that was making her sick?”

      Kisha nodded. “Just like you said, Ms. Williams.” She grinned. “You should have been a doctor.”

      “I don’t think so.” She smiled. “But I’ve seen the symptoms enough. My daughter was allergic to her formula when she was a baby, too.”

      “I didn’t know you had a daughter, Ms. Williams.”

      “Sure do. Almost eighteen years old. She’s away at college.”

      “Wow. How old does that make you?” Kisha quizzed.

      Dione put her hand on her hip. “Old enough not to have to answer. Now get moving all four of you.”

      “Bye, Ms. Williams,” they chimed as they brushed by her and down the stairs.

      Dione shook her head and smiled. “How old am I? Ha.”

      She continued up to the top floor, making certain that everyone was up and about, then headed back downstairs. It was her regular routine and she had yet to grow tired of it.

      Brenda was right, she thought, making her way down. This was hers, her baby. She’d given birth to Chances Are as sure as she’d given birth to Niyah. She loved and nurtured the girls and their children who came through her doors seeking help, the same way she’d finally found the love she’d needed.

      A shudder of remembrance ran through her every time she thought about those lonely, frightening, difficult days when she’d wandered the streets after school and slept on the trains at night, sneaking into the girls’ bathroom at school first thing in the morning to wash up and brush her hair. She’d stashed her suitcase in her locker and changed clothes every day before class started. On Fridays she’d take the suitcase out of the locker and wash her clothes at the laundry, bringing the clothes back on Monday. If anyone asked why she always had a suitcase, she told them she was staying with her cousin on the weekends.

      For nearly a month, she’d drifted through life not sure how, just by pure willpower. She could barely stay awake in class and constantly felt sick. She wasn’t sure how Ms. Langley, the guidance counselor, found out about her secret life, but she did and called her into her office.

      “Please close the door, Dione and have a seat,” Ms. Langley said.

      Reluctantly, Dione did as she was told, tried to smile and act nonchalant even as her stomach roiled and her heart bounced around in her chest.

      “Is there anything you want to tell me, Dione?”

      “No,” she muttered.

      “Then I’ll start.” Ms. Langley folded her hands on the desktop and leaned forward. “I think you’re in trouble, Dione, and so do your teachers. We’ve all noticed the difference in your appearance, your mood and your classwork. If you’ll talk to me about what’s wrong I can help you, or talk to your parents for you if you want.”

      Dione violently shook her head. “No!”

      “I want to help you, Dione.” She came around the desk and put her arm around Dione’s shoulders, and the dam burst.

      “Good morning, Dee.”

      Dione blinked, shutting out the images of the past. “Good morning, Ms. Betsy.”

      Betsy stepped out the door of her ground floor apartment. “I know you were up there checking on that lazy Gina,” she grumbled, wagging an accusing finger at Dione.

      Dione tried not to look guilty. “I was checking on everybody.”

      Betsy pursed her lips, then sucked her teeth. “You gotta get these young girls to stand on their own feet. Be responsible. What are they gonna do when they have to step out into the real world without you there to keep them under your wings?”

      A surge of heartsickness swept through her. “I don’t even want to think about it, Ms. Betsy. You know how hard it is for me to let them go. They’re just babies themselves. And—”

      “You’re not your mother, Dione. You’re gettin’ them ready for life, not throwing them out onto the street.” Betsy wagged her finger again. “You were just as young as these girls when—”

      “Yes. But I had you.”

      Betsy clucked her tongue and patted Dione’s arm. “I have work to do,” she fussed. “I know my early birds Denise and Kisha are waiting on me to take those babies so they can get to school.”

      Dione grinned. “You have a good day.” She kissed the older woman’s cheek before they parted, a ritual that began nearly eighteen years earlier, when Betsy was her landlady for the rooming house she and her infant daughter Niyah lived in.

      She remembered walking for what seemed like forever to find that building. Ms. Langley had given her the address after she’d spent a week in a shelter and refused to go back. She’d had to sleep on a cot with a mattress no thicker than the thin blanket that covered her. She heard things—noises in the night and the soft sobs of the young women around her. The second day she was there she’d awakened to find most of her clothes missing and five dollars out of her wallet. When she arrived at school with what she had on her back and stormed teary-eyed into Ms. Langley’s office, she swore she’d kill herself if she ever had to go back.

      Ms. Langley jumped up and shut the door. “Dione, what happened?” Her green eyes raced across Dione’s ravaged face and body to assess if there was any damage.

      “I’m not going back there, Ms. Langley. I won’t.”

      “Dione, СКАЧАТЬ