The Bullet List (The Saving Bailey Trilogy, #1) by Nikki Roman Page A

She looks like a puppy being scolded for peeing on the carpet.
    “It was only a small bottle,” she says. “It is gone already.”
    “Prove it,” I say, motioning for her to hand it over.
    “It’s gone,” she says stressing her words. She walks toward the trashcan, and pulls out a tiny glass bottle then places it in my hands.
    “Hiding it from me will only make it harder for you to quit,” I scold her.
    “You are right. No more . I’m through with drinking,” she says
    I leave the bottle on the counter as a reminder for her. I am about to walk out the door to get on my bus when she says, “Oh, the school called yesterday, I forgot to tell you.” I hold my breath. “They said you are failing in all your classes, especially in a particular Mrs. Latcher’s class. They say you have a real bad attitude.”
    “So?” I ask, testing the waters.
    “So, if you don’t get those grades up I’m going to punish you.”
    “What are you going to do?” I ask nervously.
    “Turn the lights off every night for a week straight.”
    “You can’t do that! That’s a line you can’t cross, Mom!”
    She frowns. “I’m afraid it’s a line I will have to cross if you don’t get those grades up, young lady.”
    I slam the door so hard that the apartment shakes and I half expect it to collapse with Mom inside, crushing her beneath its rubble. It is so cold that I can see my breath as I walk to the bus stop. I constantly look over my shoulder to see if Mom is watching me, as she usually does, to be sure I make it safely on the bus. But she is not at the window or door; she is probably seething inside the apartment with the sight of the empty vodka bottle mocking her.
    The bus rolls to my stop, looking like it’s on its last legs. I step into the warmth and take my seat the third one on the right. The sun is deceiving as it rises over the trees making them look ablaze; its glow suggests that the weather is cheery and warm outside, when it is actually wet and freezing.
    I brood over my conversation with Mom as the bus arrives at school. My grades? Mom had never cared about them before; they have plunged many times in the past. My attitude? Well she had attested to that one herself a good number of years ago, with my sixth grade math teacher.
    I can still hear the haggard lady’s scratchy voice: “Mrs. Sykes, Bailey, is a problem child.”
    “You are a math teacher aren’t you? If she is a problem, then solve her,” Mom had said to my absolute pleasure. No, grades and attitude were certainly not a part of my mother’s agenda, but it is all she could pick at after being put to shame by her too witty daughter.
    We are the last bus at school. I disembark and follow the crowd of students into the school; warm air seeping out through the doors. When I get inside, Alana immediately spots me.
    “How are you feeling?” she asks, picking up where we left off yesterday.
    “Not well,” I say, shivering from the cold.
    “Here, take my jacket,” she says unzipping her coat.
    I grab it and manage to force one arm in before saying, “Alana this jacket is two sizes too small. You are just so tiny.”
    “I thought I was lumpy, like a sack of potatoes,” she says, her eyes narrowed. “Or at least that’s what a good friend told me.”
    “A good friend wouldn’t say that,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
    She giggles as I try to slide my other arm into her coat.
    “And I’m sorry for being a pervert and commenting on your body,” she says.
    “You were a pervert,” I decide.
    “Totally,” she says without shame. “Now that, that’s behind us, I must tell you some wonderful news. Miemah isn’t here today.”
    “Wow, that really is some wonderful news,” I say, relieved. “I need a break from her.”
    “I think the whole school does,” she agrees.
    I hand her jacket back and we part ways to our first period classrooms.
    Mrs. Latcher looks extremely annoyed when I walk through the door, and even more so when Clad comes