Fallout (82 page)

Read Fallout Online

Authors: Ellen Hopkins

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Family, #General, #Orphans & Foster Homes, #Social Issues, #Adolescence, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse

IMPORTANT? ME?

I’ve never once thought

of myself as

important,

or considered

I might have a special

reason for being. I’ve

mostly thought

of myself

as an accident.

Someone in the way.

Something important to

do? Like what?

Guess I

don’t need to

think about that right

now. Like Grandpa Scott

said, let’s just

get through

today. And make

big decisions tomorrow.

Hunter
SOMETIMES I SHOULD SHUT MY MOUTH

I knew bringing up Brendan

wasn’t the most tactful thing

to do, especially on Christmas.

But sometimes Kristina makes

me so mad, I want to hurt her.

It’s stupid. She doesn’t injure

easily, at least not when the slaps

are verbal. When I mentioned

Brendan, she didn’t say anything

immediately. Finally she said,

I’m surprised he came back.
Surprised he’s still alive
,
actually. He ripped off a lot
of people. Even worse than
he took advantage of me.

We were almost home by

then. I slowed enough to get

a few words in. “Don’t suppose

you’ll take some responsibility

for what happened that night?”

ANGER PUFFED

From her mouth in

abbreviated breaths.

What? You
want to
blame me
for getting
raped?
Oh
my
God.

And then she really

pissed me off.

Just like
a man.

Despite Grandpa

Bill’s obvious

uneasiness, I jumped.

“All men are not alike.

And, thank God, all

women are not like you.”

SHE HASN’T SPOKEN

To me since. Not that I care.

When we got home, she went

straight into the house and

retreated somewhere with

the boys. For all of ten minutes.

Then I noticed Donald join

Grandpa Bill in the family room.

He got a new game system

for Christmas. They’re playing.

I am helping Mom wash veggies

when David bops by with Sasha.

“Where’s Kristina?” I ask.

He shrugs.
She went outside
to smoke a cigarette. Why
does she like those stinky things?
Mom answers,
Tobacco
is addictive. Once you start
smoking, it’s really hard to quit.
I’ll never smoke
, he decides.
Not if it makes you smell
like that. Come on, Sasha.

EVENTUALLY

Kristina comes back inside,

trailed by Jake and Misty,

who have just arrived bearing

gifts like Christmas magi.

They sweep into the kitchen,

Leigh close on their heels,

put the presents on the table,

chant a chorus of “Merry Christmas.”

Kristina heads straight for
the brightly wrapped boxes,
finds one with her name on
it.
Ooh. Can I open it now?
Leigh stops her from tearing
into the Santa-and-puppy
paper.
Why don’t we wait
for Scott to get back?
Kristina, who has managed
to ignore me completely,
reluctantly agrees. Nicotine
obviously can work wonders.
Jake goes into the family room,
and I hear him say,
Grandpa
Bill! I didn’t know you were
here. Where’s your car?
Damn DMV wouldn’t re-up
my license. Said my eyes
don’t work so good anymore.
Hate to admit they’re right.

The banter picks up speed in

the kitchen as Mom and Misty

and Leigh and Kristina start

yakking girl talk. Enough, already.

I’m on my way to the family room

when the doorbell rings. Nikki?

She’s early, but that’s all good.

I swing the door open. “Nik!”

Autumn
THIS HOUSE IS INSANE

Insane, as in beautiful.

I stand on the front porch,

staring up at the tall doors.

Oak, with beveled stained glass.

I wait for the familiar tingle

in my fingers. But I don’t

feel close to panic. I reach

out. Ring the doorbell.

The door jerks open.
Nik!
But I’m not Nik, whoever he
is, and the boy who is waiting
for him is confused.
Uh …
Can I help you?
He is older
than me by a year or two,
with mink-colored hair and
eyes an unusual shade of green.

We are related, but I’m not

sure how, and even less sure

of what to say. I start to back

away, but Trey takes over for me.

You must be Hunter. Wow.
I haven’t seen you since you
were a baby. Damn. I’m, um …
Is Kristina here, by any chance?
Hunter—my brother—nods an
“oh, okay” nod, turns, and yells,
Kristina! Someone’s here to see
you.
Beyond him, amazing Christmas

decorations swag staircase

railings, and the scent of turkey

roasting and bread dough rising

makes my mouth start to water.

A woman comes to the door.
I have dreamed of this face,
only a younger version of it.
Kristina. My mother. Curiosity
lights her eyes, only to be
replaced by sudden wonder.
Trey
, she says.
What are you …?
Then her eyes fall on me.

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