Taneesha Never Disparaging by M. LaVora Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

the Butsudan, or Buddha’s house, the
towering, oval cabinet that sat in the center of the altar table, up against the wall. The cabinet that reached toward the ceiling as if it were trying to climb the sky. Then I sat in the middle chair of the three that made a row in front of the altar. Carli sat to my left.
    The large altar bell—a shiny, black, bowl-like thing—sat on the floor in the space between Carli and me. The bell was on a purple velvet pillow and the pillow was on a golden pedestal (which was really a big, upside-down brass plant pot).
    I took hold of the black wooden handle of the mallet that lay in a wooden cradle on the altar table. With the part of the mallet that was covered in purple velvet, I struck the bell.
    While the bell’s loud bong faded away, I looked up at the object inside the Butsudan, pressed my hands together, and started chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo . Carli did, too. It felt kind of good knowing we were chanting for the same thing. For that boy.
    I sent beams of light to him, just like the light that danced on the altar. I imagined him all glowing, not bloody, very safe, and just fine.
    After a few minutes, I struck the bell again and
Carli and I did Sansho , we chanted three times slowly.
    â€œI hope that helped,” she said.
    â€œMe too.”
    She returned to her spot on the floor and I closed the Butsudan door and followed her. But I didn’t start back on my homework right away.
    My eyes stayed on the Butsudan. I thought about how I wasn’t even tall enough to touch the top of it.
    I remembered Mama saying that the rest of the stuff on the altar didn’t even have to be there, it was optional. She said that what was inside the Butsudan, protected behind closed doors now, was the most important part. I liked to pretend that the tall cabinet was a strong royal guard protecting me, too.
    If I had my way, I would never come home to an empty house. But since I almost always do, I imagine that the altar watches over me until my parents get there.
    That’s a secret, though. I’ve never told anybody I do that, not even Carli. It’s kind of immature.
    But if I had known what was coming, while I was all gung-ho on chanting, for every one time
I did it for that boy to be safe and protected, I would have done it a thousand times for me.
    I heard keys jingling.
    I raised my head and glanced over my shoulder through the archway that separated the living room from the kitchen. Mama’s face was in the kitchen-door window. I popped up to run and meet her.
    A gust of chilly wind blew through the house when she opened the door. She stood on the floor mat, stomping snow from her boots.
    â€œHey, Mama.” I grabbed her around the middle of her frosted black coat and gave her a big hug.
    â€œHey, little lady.” She squeezed me back. “You did a great job today.”
    I thought so, too. But it felt good to hear her say it.
    â€œThanks, Mama. You know what? I had a good time. Even the tidying part wasn’t that bad.”
    She laughed a little. “Glad to hear it.
    â€œHey, Carli!”
    â€œHi, Ms. Ross!” Carli answered from the living room.
    Mama glided through the kitchen, peeling away her black earmuffs, coat, scarf, and midnight
blue nurse’s smock with glow-in-the-dark galaxies on it; to me, it was her coolest one. She disappeared into the hallway.
    I heard water running in the downstairs restroom—Officer HP doing the same wash-yourhands-for-as-long-as-it-takes-to-sing-“Happy- Birthday”-twice routine she bugged me about doing fifty-leven times a day.
    Carli and I fixed a snack—popcorn, baby carrots, celery, peanut butter, veggie dip, and hot cocoa. Sitting at the kitchen table with her, I breathed in chocolatey steam. We slurped from mugs, and chomped, crunched, and munched.
    â€œCan you believe it? Next week’s the big day already,” Carli said, scooping up veggie dip with a