Tears of a Tiger by Sharon M. Draper Read Free Book Online

don’t say it, but they do. The teachers ask us easier questions, if they ask us anythin’ at all, and they expect dumb answers. So I just give ‘em what they want.
    â€”What do you think would happen if you did volunteer and answer the questions correctly?
    â€”I even tried that. It don’t make no difference. Do you know that once I got an A on a test in advanced math, and when the teacher gave back the papers, he said, “Irving got an A, as usual, and Ching Lee got an A, as usual, and, oh my goodness, even Andy got an A this week. I must be slipping—my tests are getting too easy if even Andy can get an A on them, or maybe he cheated.” Everybody chuckled, but I was boilin’ mad. How come I can’t ever get praised for good grades? How come me gettin’ an A on a test is somethin’ the class should laugh at?
    â€”Do you find this frustration from teachers of both races?
    â€”Even some of the black teachers treat us wrong. They be grinnin’ in the faces of those little white girls, sayin’ stuff like, “That’s wonderful, Mary Alice! You did a marvelous job on that project!” Then they say stuff to me like, “That’s good, Andy, but couldn’t you have improved this part or enhanced this section?” No matter what I do, it’s never good enough, so why bother?
    â€”Are good grades important to you, Andy?
    â€”Yeah, I guess.
    â€”Why?
    â€”’Cause good grades makes my father shut up and my mother to smile a lot. She’s good at that—smilin’. Just like my dad is good at yellin’.
    â€”What about you? Do you care?
    â€”Not really. I just wanna have fun.
    â€”Are you having fun, Andy?
    â€”Not much these days.
    â€”Our time is almost up. Let’s get together after the Christmas holidays and talk about how you managed.
    â€”Whatever you say. Look, man, I gotta get goin’ anyway. I promised Keisha that I’d go to the mall with her so she can finish her Christmas shoppin’. I don’t know what it is with girls and malls.
    â€”Now that’s a problem I can’t help you with.
    â€”And you call yourself a professional!
    â€”Seriously, Andy, I want you to call me at any time if you need me, you hear?
    â€”I hear you. I guess I should say “Merry Christmas.”
    â€”Happy holidays to you too, Andy. Take care.
    â€”Peace, man. Later.

Female Frustration
Keisha’s Diary Entry
    DECEMBER 17
    Dear Diary:
    I just got home from the mall with Andy. It was fun at first. There were at least a million people there, and most of them had kids. We walked around and looked in all the stores, and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I told him I wanted to be surprised, but I like perfume. So then we went to the department store and I tried on sixteen different kinds of perfume samples. Man, did I stink good! After a while, we couldn’t tell the difference between one smell and another, but we kept spraying samples till the salesladies in the perfume department started asking us to leave. (Where do they get those women with that perfect makeup? The only place I’ve ever seen women with makeup like that is in the cosmetic area of a big department store. No real woman walks down the street looking like that!)
    Anyway, we left there and got something to eat. Then we passed by the Santa Claus display and Andy started acting funny. He said Santa Claus reminded him of Rob. I don’t see how. Rob was six feet five and black and I’ve never seen a tall, skinny black Santa. So Andy started getting depressed and he wouldn’t talk and he just wasn’t any fun. I called Mom to pick us up. (It sure is a pain since Andy can’t drive anymore.) By the time she got there, Andy was just sitting on a bench in the mall, totally ignoring me, with his head down almost on his lap. Mom was pretty cool. She asked Andy if he felt okay, and when he said he had a cold, she took him