too.
Once our hands separate, I dig into the food. After eating two biscuits, half the container of rice, and three pieces of chicken, I vow I’m never going to eat this much food again, at least for a little while. I get up and throw the trash away, tossing the plastic stuff into the recycle
bin. I even pick up a can off the ground and recycle it too. Mr. Hatley would be proud.
“I hope you know you can talk to me about anything,” Mom says when I return to the picnic table.
“Yeah, I know.” Not like I would though.
“I shouldn’t be so hard on you, baby girl, but I love you and I do care.”
“I love you too.” When I hug Mom tightly, I accidentally smear a touch of chicken grease on her shirt.
“How was the museum?” Cherish asks when she gets home. She doesn’t sound sarcastic.
“Not too bad.” I keep the fried chicken and the conversation between Mom and me private. It must’ve been miserable for Cherish growing up with strangers and not her mom or even her maw-maw. I don’t need to rub it in.
Sand and all, she plops into the recliner. Good thing Mom’s monkey is hanging from her doorknob. She might actually fuss about getting dirt on the furniture. Liz is moving furniture around in the den, making room for Lemond.
“How was the beach?” Cherish’s skin has a red tint to it. Her hair is tangled. It usually looks polished and wavy, not kinky-curly like Delia’s. Somehow this girl even manages to make messy look good.
“All right. Your friend was there.”
“Delia? Really?”
“Yeah. With that girl Torey. Looks like you’ve been replaced.”
I’d imagined the two of them dress shopping, but knowing for sure they hung out feels like a betrayal of
sorts. Is this how Delia felt when I started spending more time with Dub?
“You okay?” Cherish asks. “You look funny.”
I realize I’m twisting my lips. “I’m fine.” Why should I be upset? I’m grounded and Delia has every right to do whatever, whenever, with whomever. “It’s just complicated.”
“Complicated?” Cherish asks with a laugh. “You have no idea what complicated means.”
She’s right if you compare her life to mine. I overheard Michelle tell Mom and Liz that Cherish’s stepdad hit her so hard she had to be hospitalized. Even as much as I don’t like Cherish sometimes because of the things she does, it sickens me to think of what she’s gone through. Did Liz endure such unimaginable things too?
Cherish swings her legs. “You’ve got to be tougher.”
She’s right again. “I’m trying to be less chicken turdish.”
This makes Cherish bust up, and even I laugh.
WORST DAY EVER: PART I
Monday, April 28
“WHAT’S THAT?” Cherish asks, pointing her finger and nearly knocking over my glass of orange juice.
“A note.” I cover the handwriting so she can’t read what I’ve written to Dub so far. There isn’t much.
“Not that.” Cherish grabs the engraved pen out of my hand. “What are you doing with this?”
“It’s mine. Mom gave it to me awhile back.” I reach to snag it from her, but Cherish slaps my hand away.
“It was on my desk last time I saw it. Are you taking my things?”
“No! You’re always taking my things!”
“Calm down, girls,” Mom says, sipping her peppermint tea. “You both have a bus to catch this morning and school to think about.”
“I’ll buy you each a new pen if you quit fighting,” Liz adds like it’s that simple.
I don’t want to give the pen back, but I also don’t want Cherish to be suspicious. “If it means that much
to you, you can have it. Even if it belonged to my biological father.”
I slide it over, and Mom gives me a smile of approval.
“That’s okay,” Cherish says, which catches me off guard. “I’ve got something from my grandmother that I wouldn’t want anyone else to have.” Mom smiles at her next.
I know what that something is, and I should return it to her sooner than later. I could just slip it back into her
Once our hands separate, I dig into the food. After eating two biscuits, half the container of rice, and three pieces of chicken, I vow I’m never going to eat this much food again, at least for a little while. I get up and throw the trash away, tossing the plastic stuff into the recycle
bin. I even pick up a can off the ground and recycle it too. Mr. Hatley would be proud.
“I hope you know you can talk to me about anything,” Mom says when I return to the picnic table.
“Yeah, I know.” Not like I would though.
“I shouldn’t be so hard on you, baby girl, but I love you and I do care.”
“I love you too.” When I hug Mom tightly, I accidentally smear a touch of chicken grease on her shirt.
“How was the museum?” Cherish asks when she gets home. She doesn’t sound sarcastic.
“Not too bad.” I keep the fried chicken and the conversation between Mom and me private. It must’ve been miserable for Cherish growing up with strangers and not her mom or even her maw-maw. I don’t need to rub it in.
Sand and all, she plops into the recliner. Good thing Mom’s monkey is hanging from her doorknob. She might actually fuss about getting dirt on the furniture. Liz is moving furniture around in the den, making room for Lemond.
“How was the beach?” Cherish’s skin has a red tint to it. Her hair is tangled. It usually looks polished and wavy, not kinky-curly like Delia’s. Somehow this girl even manages to make messy look good.
“All right. Your friend was there.”
“Delia? Really?”
“Yeah. With that girl Torey. Looks like you’ve been replaced.”
I’d imagined the two of them dress shopping, but knowing for sure they hung out feels like a betrayal of
sorts. Is this how Delia felt when I started spending more time with Dub?
“You okay?” Cherish asks. “You look funny.”
I realize I’m twisting my lips. “I’m fine.” Why should I be upset? I’m grounded and Delia has every right to do whatever, whenever, with whomever. “It’s just complicated.”
“Complicated?” Cherish asks with a laugh. “You have no idea what complicated means.”
She’s right if you compare her life to mine. I overheard Michelle tell Mom and Liz that Cherish’s stepdad hit her so hard she had to be hospitalized. Even as much as I don’t like Cherish sometimes because of the things she does, it sickens me to think of what she’s gone through. Did Liz endure such unimaginable things too?
Cherish swings her legs. “You’ve got to be tougher.”
She’s right again. “I’m trying to be less chicken turdish.”
This makes Cherish bust up, and even I laugh.
WORST DAY EVER: PART I
Monday, April 28
“WHAT’S THAT?” Cherish asks, pointing her finger and nearly knocking over my glass of orange juice.
“A note.” I cover the handwriting so she can’t read what I’ve written to Dub so far. There isn’t much.
“Not that.” Cherish grabs the engraved pen out of my hand. “What are you doing with this?”
“It’s mine. Mom gave it to me awhile back.” I reach to snag it from her, but Cherish slaps my hand away.
“It was on my desk last time I saw it. Are you taking my things?”
“No! You’re always taking my things!”
“Calm down, girls,” Mom says, sipping her peppermint tea. “You both have a bus to catch this morning and school to think about.”
“I’ll buy you each a new pen if you quit fighting,” Liz adds like it’s that simple.
I don’t want to give the pen back, but I also don’t want Cherish to be suspicious. “If it means that much
to you, you can have it. Even if it belonged to my biological father.”
I slide it over, and Mom gives me a smile of approval.
“That’s okay,” Cherish says, which catches me off guard. “I’ve got something from my grandmother that I wouldn’t want anyone else to have.” Mom smiles at her next.
I know what that something is, and I should return it to her sooner than later. I could just slip it back into her
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