Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Family, #General, #Orphans & Foster Homes, #Social Issues, #Adolescence, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse
HE MANAGES NOT TO CHOKE
But just barely. Kortni shoots
evil eye arrows. Touché, bitch.
Well, uh …
, he beer-sputters.
You know how we met, right?
“Haven’t a clue. Neither of you
has ever really talked about it.”
Why does he need to discuss this
now?
Kortni tries to interfere.
I look her dead in the eye. “This is not
your business. I want to know.”
S’all right
, slurs Dad.
Why not?
This is as good a time as any.
Remember I tol’ you ’bout my old
buddy Trey? Well, he was married
to your mom at the time, and they
had a little girl. Autumn. Pretty thing.
I used to take care of her while
Kristina worked. After Trey moved
out, of course. Always kind of felt
bad about her coming between us.
“Wait!” Hunter, me, Donald, David …
“Are you saying Mom has another daughter?
And what do you mean, ‘coming
between us’? Coming between who?”
Me and Trey. See, I was just
supposed to stay a few days.
But God. It was a bottomless
party, crystal 24-7. Hard to walk
away from that. And you know
the crystal scene. Shit makes you
horny as hell. Everyone screwing
everyone. Only when me and Kristina
hooked up, we had chemistry.
Thought for sure it was love, but
you think all kinds of crazy shit
when you’re tweaking. Trey came
home from a score and found us
mid-dirty. And that’s pretty much
how I met your mom and lost
my best friend. Now can I eat?
HE WOLFS
The rest of his burger, and since
I’m no longer hungry, I push
my plate across the table, watch
him finish my Thanksgiving dinner.
“Can we please go now?”
He doesn’t seem to understand
(or maybe just doesn’t care) how
this disclosure (yes, I asked for it)
has rocked me. Torpedoed me.
Can I please finish my beer first?
I don’t look at him or Kortni
as I consider what this means
to me. Why didn’t anyone ever
tell me I have a sister somewhere?
Mom never once mentioned her.
And then there’s the whole part
about how my dad pretty much
broke up her marriage. Yeah,
the drug scene didn’t help, but
how do you just waltz right in and …
Oh. My. God. Not only did Dad
waltz right in and break up a marriage,
but Mom waltzed away with him, broke
up a best friendship. I am my mother.
And that is something I just can’t be.
I WAIT IN THE CAR
While Dad pays the bill, sunk
very low in the not-plush seat,
digesting. Not food. Information.
Revelation.
Dad sways a bit. Kortni props
him, but she’s not in great shape
herself. They look like cartoon drunks.
Caricatures.
Neither of them should take the wheel.
But even if I knew how to drive,
Dad would not admit inebriation.
Impairment.
No one speaks as he starts the car,
backs up, barely missing the truck
behind him. In my belly, knots of worry.
Apprehension.
The knots clench as we weave toward
the on-ramp. Not far, the windows
swirl with red and blue lights.
Spotlights.
Hunter
DAMN COLD
For the first weekend in December
the temperature has trouble climbing
to thirty degrees, and the mountains
look like sugar donuts beneath early snow.
I’m up at first light and off to announce
the Sparks Hometowne Christmas Parade.
As I leave, I hear Nikki’s heavy breathing.
Fast asleep, despite my noise.
You’ve seen
one parade, you’ve seen them all
, she said
last night, when I asked her to come along.
Sleeping in sounds better. Anyway, you’ll
be the star. You won’t have time for me.
Okay, that part is mostly true. When you’re busy
playing celebrity, you don’t have much time
for your tag-along girlfriend. Still, I want her to
be there. I lie down beside her, kiss the warm
pulse at the hollow of her neck. It’s enough
to stir her from dreams. Enough to make me
wish I could stay. “Sure you won’t change
your mind?” I slide my hand beneath the ginger-
scented blankets, find the satin skin of her thigh,
seduce her into that perfect state of not-quite-all-
the-way-awake. “I want you to be there with
me. You’re my good-luck charm, you know.”
Nik smiles.
Bet you say that to all the girls.
Now let me go back to sleep. Love you.
“Love you, too.” My hand doesn’t want
to go. But the rest of me has to, so it tags
along. “If you decide to come see Santa,
you know where to find me.” But her breathing
tells me she’s already most of the way back
to dreamland. Wonder who’s waiting for her there.
CHARMLESS
It takes forever to find parking,
despite the early hour. The main
drag is cordoned off, leaving
Victorian Avenue car-less except
for the ones soon to be parading.
I park in the Nugget Casino
garage, walk several blocks
to the corner where Montana
and I will announce equestrian
teams, bands, and local dignitaries,
shivering as they wave from
the decks of classic convertibles.
The Shriners will drive funny
little cars and unicycles. Civic
groups will flaunt tractor-pulled
floats. Scout troops will march
in formation, the university
cheerleaders will cartwheel,
clowns will throw candy. And,
bringing up the rear, Santa and
his missus will arrive in a horse-
pulled sleigh so the kids will
know Christmas is coming and
the malls will be open overtime.
Nikki’s right. Totally predictable.
PREDICTABLE OR NOT
I’ve always kind
of enjoyed the whole
“it’s beginning to look
a lot like Christmas”
spiel. The parade
serves as a kickoff
to a month of “loving
each other so Santa will
come” kind of feelings.
Christmas should be
all year. Only, then
we’d go broke. Never
mind. Actually, this year
I have a little spending
cash. Think I’ll get
Nikki something
really special. Jewelry,
maybe. Or better (for me),
lingerie. Maybe I’ll ask
Montana’s opinion.
There she is, setting up
the mics. Women who
aren’t afraid of work rock.
Especially when it would
be my work otherwise.