Within weeks of starting school and not being able to locate her best friend, Monday, Claudia knows that something is wrong. But though Claudia throws herself into her project of finding Monday and asks teachers, counselors, her parents, and even the police for help, most people seem unconcerned about and uninterested in Monday’s disappearance. Several adults, including Claudia’s Daddy, even tell Claudia she shouldn’t be so curious or worried—whatever’s going on with Monday is “private family business.” And the local detective Claudia speaks to, Detective Carson, informs her that only a parent can report Monday as missing, if she even is missing to begin with. Through this widespread indifference—and the eventual revelation that Monday’s mother murdered her—the novel raises a key question: whose responsibility is it to speak up and help someone who’s experiencing abuse and neglect, especially when a person’s abuser is a family member? Monday’s Not Coming suggests that the idea that families should be a person’s only line of defense is misguided at best and, at worst, dangerous. Rather, it suggests that keeping children safe and healthy is a community responsibility, but one that can be extremely hard to navigate in an increasingly individualized society.
That Claudia seeks out help from so many different community resources suggests that she’s been led to believe that it’s the community’s responsibility to worry about a child’s welfare. Claudia seeks help first from her parents and then from Monday’s mom, Mrs. Charles, and Monday’s sister, April. Her family or Monday’s family, she reasons, should be able to quickly solve the mystery of what happened to Monday. But Daddy refuses to check in on Monday, insisting that her whereabouts and wellbeing aren’t his responsibility. And Mrs. Charles and April give unhelpful, cryptic answers—and scold or yell at Claudia for expressing her concern. Through their responses, they suggest that Claudia that Monday isn’t their responsibility or Claudia’s, either. When family fails, Claudia turns to the school system and, ultimately, the police. But every time Claudia asks for help, she gets unclear or incomplete answers, or she’s told that the inner workings of Monday’s family aren’t any of her business. These responses suggest that it’s inappropriate to worry about someone the way that Claudia worries about Monday, something that goes counter to how Claudia has been raised to see parents, schools, and the police.
While both the school and the police insist to Claudia that it’s inappropriate to get involved, the novel reveals that these institutions aren’t properly equipped to follow through with kids in trouble, even when they want to. For instance, the novel implies that Claudia’s school works directly with Child and Family Services Agency (CFSA) in cases of suspected neglect or abuse. But through the school has passed along several reports of suspected neglect over the years, CFSA consistently fails to appropriately investigate those concerns. Claudia and one of the teachers who’s raised concerns, Ms. Valente, seem to believe that had the CFSA caseworkers properly investigated Mrs. Charles, she would’ve lost custody of her children immediately—and perhaps, Monday and August’s murders could have been prevented.
Claudia also discovers that the police and child protection services aren’t set up to effectively respond to more complicated child abuse situations. When Claudia goes to the police to ask an officer to check in on Monday, she discovers that she has no standing to report Monday as missing—only a parent can do that. This suggests, too, that even if the school had expressed more concern about Monday’s whereabouts, they, too, may have been stymied by protocol and bureaucracy. The detective Claudia speaks to, Detective Carson, also suggests that it’s not uncommon for girls like Monday (by which he means poor, young Black girls with difficult home lives) to run away rather than ask for help—and unless parents report their children as missing, Detective Carson doesn’t see it as his responsibility to pursue them. In this way, Detective Carson and the law enforcement system he represents effectively absolve themselves of any responsibility to care about Monday and other kids in similar situations—unless their parents are willing to come forward.
Monday’s Not Coming offers no neat answers to these structural issues that prevented the police or the school stepping in when it was clear that Monday and her family were experiencing problems. In a news clip covering Monday’s daddy, Tip’s, multimillion-dollar wrongful death lawsuit against the city for not preventing Monday and August’s murders, a city official encapsulates one of the case’s (and the novel’s) primary questions. He says, “I think it boils down to one question: who’s really responsible for your well-being—your family, the government, or your community?” Claudia’s initial hope that families, the government, and the community would be able to work together to protect Monday and her family may represent an ideal that, the novel suggests, doesn’t always exist in reality, but is one that’s worth working towards for the good of society’s most vulnerable members.
Family, Community, and Responsibility ThemeTracker
Family, Community, and Responsibility Quotes in Monday’s Not Coming
I know what you’re thinking. How can a whole person, a kid, disappear and no one say a word? Like, if the sun just up and left one day, you’d think someone would sound an alarm, right? But Ma used to say, not everyone circles the same sun. I never knew what she meant by that until Monday went missing.
Red flags.
Not blush red, orange red, wine, or ruby red. No, bloody red flags. Did you see them, Claudia? Did you?
Did you see any red flags?
That’s the question they asked me over and over again, hoping to find answers. Hoping to understand what no one could. Signs. Were there any signs Monday was in trouble? Did you see anything out of the ordinary, anything unusual?
No. Nothing.
In so many words, they called me a liar. That hurt more than losing my best friend.
If Monday were a color, she’d be red. Crisp, striking, vivid, you couldn’t miss her—a bull’s-eye in the room, a crackling flame.
I saw so much red that it blinded me to any flags.
“I know I’ve only been in this school for a couple of years, but back in New York, when a student doesn’t show up for class nor register for school, the school follows up. Is that not the case here?”
“A lot of students didn’t return this year. Most had to move due to rent going up and stuff. But I’ll pass a note along.”
Even though it looked like an army of trolls had beaten her with baseball bats, how could I not believe? She was my best friend. If she was lying, it had to be for a good reason.
Right?
“Anyway, are you going to talk to Dedria’s mother tomorrow or what?”
I stopped, peering over the banister.
Ma shook her head. “Patti, she got to leave on her own terms. It ain’t my place!”
Mrs. Charles glared at her. “Janet, that man is going to kill her one of these days! Are you going to be able to look yourself in the mirror when he does?”
Daddy sighed. “Janet, it’s their family business. It ain’t none of ours.”
“But we—”
“Just stay out of their drama, will you?” he sighed. “I don’t wanna get mixed up in their mess.”
“I said come on!” Mrs. Charles barked. “I ain’t got all day!”
Monday flinched, her eyes closing as tears ran down her face. With slumped shoulders, she dragged her feet after her mother.
Ma and I watched them walk off in silence, my nerves prickling. The fear Monday had of her mother didn’t seem normal. The fear I had for Monday didn’t seem normal. Nothing about the moment felt normal.
“I tried to bring it up before, but folks just told me to keep you moving. Everything about this school is driven by our ranking. No one has time to just take a moment and really be with our students. You’re old enough to know this now, but sometimes, all you are to this school is a score that adds up with the overall score. And the higher the score, the better the reputation. You know what I mean?”
“Over the last few months we’ve had dozens of girls around here reported missing, close to fifty in one week. Alleged kidnappings when most of them just run off away from home ‘cause they can’t do what they want.”
“But shouldn’t you still be looking for them anyways?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearing his throat.
“Yes, but Claudia, I want you to remember, when you come into a police station, claiming your friend is ‘missing,’ it means us officers have to take our focus away from these girls. Girls who could really be in trouble.”
Tears prickled, and I avoided his glare.
“Now, if your friend’s really missing and she’s not on this board, then only a parent can file a missing persons report. And if her mother won’t, the only person left would be her father or a legal guardian.”
Rumors are born with legs that can run a mile in less than a minute.
Rumors eat up dreams without condiments.
Rumors do not have expiration dates.
Rumors can be deadly.
Rumors can get you killed.
“Where the hell have you been?” Ma screamed, marching out of the kitchen. “Your father’s out there looking for you now! What, you think you’re grown now, that you could go off on your own and don’t tell nobody? You got everybody calling everybody looking for your behind!”
Notice the difference: I’d been missing for two, maybe three, hours tops, and Ma had half the congregation out looking for me. Monday had been missing for months and no one even considered it strange.
Can I tell you a secret? I knew she was dead. I just hoped she’d be in the trunk of a car, chopped up, and buried somewhere. Not in a freezer, hiding in plain sight. That aggravated the pain felt by anyone who ever laid eyes on her.
“But I didn’t save her,” I said, bursting into tears. “I couldn’t save her.”
“You did save her, Claudia! You saved her from that house for years and you didn’t even know it.”