now nestled in my capacious lap. What a racket she and her chums make each dawn and dusk! You’d think they were trying to wake the dead.
YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT
now
T he main reason people believed in God, Clem said, was they didn’t want to feel alone. They wanted to believe Someone was watching over them. When Nella protested that there had to be Something Bigger than us in this world, Clem agreed. Of course there was!
“Music’s bigger than us,” she said. “Those emperor penguins that don’t eat for a hundred and twenty days because they’re faithfully guarding their eggs? They are colossal.”
Nella liked penguins all right. But she could never pray to one.
Not that her prayers got results, anyway. No matter how many pleas and promises she made to heaven, the bishop didn’t change his mind. At recess, Nella helped pack books into boxes that Sister Rosa labeled in her perfect handwriting. First Grade Readers . Baltimore Catechisms . The storage closet was so dusty, they both kept sneezing. Tears ran down their cheeks, and Sister dabbed them both with her endless supply of snow-white, rose-scented handkerchiefs.
“Are you all right?” Nella asked.
Sister’s watery gaze wandered the shelves of books. She looked a little scared, as if it wasn’t just books getting packed away. The other nuns had gotten new teaching assignments, but Sister Rosa was going to the rest home.
“Sometimes the Lord tests us,” she said. “He wants to see what we’re made of.” She flexed a scrawny bicep. Sister had a scar over one eye, the same place as Anthony did. When she was little, she’d jumped out of a tree, certain she could fly. Now she smiled and patted Nella’s arm. “His will be done.”
Dad’s favorite song had the line: “You can’t always get what you want.” The words sang inside Nella’s head now. They seemed a lot like “His will be done,” though it was probably a sin to think so.
IN COMMON
then
M urder. The worst, most unthinkable sin of all.
Nella slipped and slid down the hill from the cemetery, trying to escape Megan’s words. Escape the look on Victoria’s face. Did Kimmy already know too? Did everyone know except her?
Who could trust Victoria? Who’d believe that poisonous snake of a girl over Dad?
He’d graduated first in his high school class but mysteriously never gone to college.
Nella pitched forward, hands out, and landed on all fours. Scrambling up, she slipped again and this time fellon her butt. Peering over her shoulder, afraid the other girls were following and would laugh, instead she saw Angela.
“You look froze! Here.” Angela pulled off a glove and gave it to Nella. They pushed their bare hands into their pockets. “Where are you going in such a rush?”
At home Nella’s father would be watching the basketball game, the little brothers crawling over him like he was a human playground, while Salvatore sat upright and serious beside him, trying to be a Dad-replica. Dad. He was the sun. The center. Nella was sick. She leaned against the wall.
“Are you hurt?” Angela asked.
“Can I come to your house?”
By that time, they never went there anymore. But of course Angela said okay.
The DeMarcos’ house had no smell. No smell of cooking, no dirty socks or baby spit-up or old-lady mildew. Even the air was afraid to offend Mr. DeMarco.
“Yo!” Anthony’s head poked out of his room. “Secret sister!”
He held weights and curled one toward his chest. With another boy it would’ve looked manly and macho, but with Anthony it looked . . . silly. Nella giggled.
“Laugh at your own risk,” he said. “Mock the Iron Man and suffer the consequences.”
“Papa calls him a puny weakling,” said Angela. “He says a girl could take Anthony down.”
Anthony started doing push-ups. After half a minute his arms collapsed and his face mashed into the rug.
“Crap! Snap!”
Nella couldn’t stop giggling. It felt weird, like parts of her were
YOU CAN’T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT
now
T he main reason people believed in God, Clem said, was they didn’t want to feel alone. They wanted to believe Someone was watching over them. When Nella protested that there had to be Something Bigger than us in this world, Clem agreed. Of course there was!
“Music’s bigger than us,” she said. “Those emperor penguins that don’t eat for a hundred and twenty days because they’re faithfully guarding their eggs? They are colossal.”
Nella liked penguins all right. But she could never pray to one.
Not that her prayers got results, anyway. No matter how many pleas and promises she made to heaven, the bishop didn’t change his mind. At recess, Nella helped pack books into boxes that Sister Rosa labeled in her perfect handwriting. First Grade Readers . Baltimore Catechisms . The storage closet was so dusty, they both kept sneezing. Tears ran down their cheeks, and Sister dabbed them both with her endless supply of snow-white, rose-scented handkerchiefs.
“Are you all right?” Nella asked.
Sister’s watery gaze wandered the shelves of books. She looked a little scared, as if it wasn’t just books getting packed away. The other nuns had gotten new teaching assignments, but Sister Rosa was going to the rest home.
“Sometimes the Lord tests us,” she said. “He wants to see what we’re made of.” She flexed a scrawny bicep. Sister had a scar over one eye, the same place as Anthony did. When she was little, she’d jumped out of a tree, certain she could fly. Now she smiled and patted Nella’s arm. “His will be done.”
Dad’s favorite song had the line: “You can’t always get what you want.” The words sang inside Nella’s head now. They seemed a lot like “His will be done,” though it was probably a sin to think so.
IN COMMON
then
M urder. The worst, most unthinkable sin of all.
Nella slipped and slid down the hill from the cemetery, trying to escape Megan’s words. Escape the look on Victoria’s face. Did Kimmy already know too? Did everyone know except her?
Who could trust Victoria? Who’d believe that poisonous snake of a girl over Dad?
He’d graduated first in his high school class but mysteriously never gone to college.
Nella pitched forward, hands out, and landed on all fours. Scrambling up, she slipped again and this time fellon her butt. Peering over her shoulder, afraid the other girls were following and would laugh, instead she saw Angela.
“You look froze! Here.” Angela pulled off a glove and gave it to Nella. They pushed their bare hands into their pockets. “Where are you going in such a rush?”
At home Nella’s father would be watching the basketball game, the little brothers crawling over him like he was a human playground, while Salvatore sat upright and serious beside him, trying to be a Dad-replica. Dad. He was the sun. The center. Nella was sick. She leaned against the wall.
“Are you hurt?” Angela asked.
“Can I come to your house?”
By that time, they never went there anymore. But of course Angela said okay.
The DeMarcos’ house had no smell. No smell of cooking, no dirty socks or baby spit-up or old-lady mildew. Even the air was afraid to offend Mr. DeMarco.
“Yo!” Anthony’s head poked out of his room. “Secret sister!”
He held weights and curled one toward his chest. With another boy it would’ve looked manly and macho, but with Anthony it looked . . . silly. Nella giggled.
“Laugh at your own risk,” he said. “Mock the Iron Man and suffer the consequences.”
“Papa calls him a puny weakling,” said Angela. “He says a girl could take Anthony down.”
Anthony started doing push-ups. After half a minute his arms collapsed and his face mashed into the rug.
“Crap! Snap!”
Nella couldn’t stop giggling. It felt weird, like parts of her were
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