The Return/Part 3 of The Sixth Degree

Sol-o-mon's back and I'm better than ev-er! I couldn't resist. I wrote "I'm back," and the Hess Truck song popped into my head, so . . .
Anyway . . . part three of THE SIXTH DEGREE!!

Yolanda Martinez turned on her computer and drummed her fingers impatiently as she waited for it to warm up. Maybe I should buy a new computer, she thought as she ruefully eyed her six year-old desktop. ’Course, the kids gotta come first, as the sound of three year-old playing tag wafted in through the open window of her study. It wasn’t really a study, more of a closet, down to the shelf a foot above her head. And the window wasn’t really a window, more of a hole cut in the wall with a hacksaw by an ex-boyfriend, coerced into doing it by the act that had produced the three kids playing outside.
The computer booted up and Yolanda wasted no time in going onto the long-distance schooling website, where she logged in and started her math lesson. I know it’s not the best way to get an education, she thought, but it’s all I got.
The door of her study banged open. Her oldest son, Samson, stood in the entrance. The thirteen year old boy had always been the child that had given her the most grief, and now she was afraid that he would get caught up in this nonsense with the Bloods and the Crips.
“Moms, I’m goin’ out.”
“Where?”
“To Mr. Houston’s house. I still have that job mowing his lawn for the rest of the month.”
Yolanda glanced at the clock on her computer. “Okay, but you gotta be back by five.”
“A’ight. See ya.”
He left the door open on the way out.