Uncollared Read Free

and you know they’re changing a lot of stuff over to the computers, so they’re showing me how to do that too.” Serina’s chest expanded with pride, which filled out the tight T-shirt she wore with the name of a group Mia didn’t recognize: Slammin’ Hammers.
    “That’s terrific, Serina…but, um”—Mia cleared her throat—“you don’t wear anything like that on the job, do you?”
    The girl blinked and gave her a huge grin. “Aw, no, Miz Manetti, don’t worry about that. I remember the stuff from that class you made me take. About proper business attire and all that.”
    The class that Mia had “made” Serina attend was part of the county’s program to assist the unemployed in finding jobs. Of course not everyone needed to learn the basic skills to make them employable. Mia worked with many folks who were employed, but who were part of the working poor and could not make ends meet though working forty or more hours a week. But Serina came from a family where intergenerational poverty and unemployment meant some of the basic skills were simply lacking. The girl’s original attitude had been Why do I gotta take some dumb classes? and How come you can’t just give me what I need?
    But once she started, Serina soaked up the information like a sponge. And she used her knowledge first helping to file in the County Office Building, then moving on to the job in an insurance office that she enjoyed so well.
    “I was real nervous when I first started, you know, thinking maybe they’d look down on me for being a single mom and everything,” Serina went on, flipping back her hair in her trademark gesture. “But this lady there—her name’s Teresa; she’s real nice—she took me under her wing, kind of. She’s got a teenage daughter with a baby, like me, and they live with her.” The girl sighed. “Sure wish my mom was like Teresa.”
    Serina did not get along with her mother, mainly due to the fact that the mother drank and was often verbally abusive. Serina had also been the result of a teenage pregnancy.
    “I’m not gonna treat my baby like my mom treats me,” Serina murmured, as though making a promise to herself.
    It broke Mia’s heart. She wished she could do more for girls like Serina, for all the people who came to her for help.
    “How’s Jacob doing?” Mia asked, referring to Serina’s son.
    “Oh, he’s getting so big! He’s so cute, Miz Manetti. Wait, I got a picture!” She dug around in her backpack-sized bag and came out with a wallet. She proudly showed Mia a photo of a sturdy little toddler with chubby cheeks and a mischievous smile.
    “He’s sweet,” Mia said.
    “Oh, he looks sweet, Miz Manetti, but let me tell you, he’s a terror! I mean, I’m chasin’ after him all day long! My sister’s watchin’ him now; I hope she’s still in one piece by the time I get back!”
    Mia laughed. “How old is he now?”
    “Getting on to three.” She returned the wallet and pulled something else out of the bag. “There’s something else I wanted to show you.” She was shy now and seemed younger than her nineteen years as she handed the framed object to Mia.
    “Oh, Serina.” It was the girl’s GED certificate.
    “I took it to one of those stores, you know, where they frame it real professionally. See, I picked out the color of the matte and everything. I wanted you to see it, ’cause I couldn’t of done it without you.”
    Tears stung Mia’s eyes. Most days in the social services department were like banging your head against a stone wall, but moments like this made the job worthwhile. “ You were the one who did it. It was your hard work.”
    “Yeah, but you were the one who encouraged me. My mom never—well, you know she never graduated high school. And she told me, ‘Aw, what d’you want to bother with that stuff for?’ Sometimes I think she’s jealous, you know? Or maybe she’s scared I’d think I was better than her or something? You were the one who told me I