“Your kids stole them Popsicles!” he said.

My mother slapped me whack whack. “Get inside, you criminal lying cheating brat!” But Mrs. Haddad said, “You lousy liar! Hjaddadinah! Tlajhama! Don’t you talk bad about my kids! I’m not going to your store no more!”

And she never did, taking a bus all the way to Mesa to shop, knowing full well that Hope had stolen the Popsicle. This made sense to me. I didn’t just want my mother to believe me when I was innocent, which she never did, but to stand up for me when I was guilty.