“Night, Ron,” I say as the door closes behind her. “Welcome home.”
6
Chapter 6
Roni, age 9
“I almost threw up during science today,” I tell Chloe as we spin on the merry-go-round. We’re outside for recess, and since I’m more arms and legs than coordination, I decided to opt out of kickball. Chloe, being just as graceful as me, also sat out.
She grinds her beat up old shoes into the dirt, stopping us from spinning. “What? Why didn’t you go home?”
I sit up and shrug. “Then my Momma would have had to leave work to come pick me up, and she already had to miss last week when we went to pick up my glasses.”
“So?” Chloe blinks at me like I’m a lunatic for missing out on a perfectly good opportunity to miss school.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am unhinged, but Momma and Daddy are always arguing about money and the fact that we don’t have any, so me getting the hall pass and running to the girls’ room to dry heave for five minutes before going back to class seemed like the best idea at the time.
“I didn’t want to miss art class,” I lie. Gran says lying is bad, but she doesn’t have to know about this one.
I don’t know why I don’t tell Chloe the truth. Her momma works at the diner and her house is just down the street from mine. They aren’t rich either but I don’t want her to treat me like a charity case.
She scoffs and slaps her palm against my forehead. “How do you feel now?”
“Better,” I say. This time it’s not totally a lie. I do feel a little better, especially since the weather was nice enough for us to come outside today. Gran says sunshine is the best medicine, and I think she’s right. Something about the warmth on my skin makes me feel like I have superpowers.
“Good.” She lies back on the merry-go-round and I follow suit. She doesn’t spin it this time, probably so I don’t barf all over her pretty pink hair bows, and I’m thankful to her for it.
“Roni!” Devin yells from across the playground. I sit up on my elbows and watch as he runs towards us. His forehead is wet with sweat and he swipes the back of his hand over his head, then he bops me on the nose. “Did you see? I kicked it.”
“Tedesco!” Coach yells after him. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to run the bases!”
Devin’s mouth drops open and looks back at me. “Oops! Gotta go.”
I chuckle as I watch him run back to the kickball field. A kid tosses the ball at his arm and the coach blows the whistle. “You’re out, Tedesco.”
Devin grins, obviously pleased with himself for kicking the ball, and jogs back to where the rest of his team is standing.
“Boys are strange,” Chloe comments.
“And smelly.” I wrinkle my nose.
“And smelly.”
After school, the bus driver drops us off at our stop at the beginning of our street. Chloe’s momma is there, like she always is, waiting with a huge smile on her face. She walks Chloe to the bus stop in the mornings too. I wonder what it would be like to have a mom like that.
“You kids okay to get home? Chloe has a dentist appointment today.” Chloe’s momma asks, thumbing towards her Chevy. Though she’s technically there for Chloe she always watches to make sure Devin and I make it inside our houses too.
“Yes, ma’am,” we say at the same time.
“Jinx,” we say together again, then giggle.
Chloe’s mom smiles. “Look out for each other, okay?”
We nod, and they get in their car to leave. Once they're gone, Devin sneers. “She’s like a smother mother.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, we live like a block down. We aren’t babies.” He shoves his hands in the pocket of his jeans. His hoodie, which he took off sometime during kickball is draped over one shoulder, and his book bag hangs off his back.
“No, we aren’t babies, but we aren’t big kids either. What if someone wanted to kidnap us?”
“Kids like us don’t get kidnapped,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Yes, they do.”
“No, kids like Noah get kidnapped. No one wants a couple of poor kids with holes in their clothes.” He dips a finger into the hole in his t-shirt to prove his point. “What would they ask my dad for? Basketball lessons as ransom? He’d probably be happy to be rid of me. Then he can focus all his attention on Noah.”
His lips turn down into a frown and I link my arm with his. “Don’t say that, Dev. He would be so sad if you were gone. We all would.”
“I’d be sad if they kidnapped you, too. Who would annoy me?”
“You mean, who would help you with your math homework?” I punch him in the arm with my free hand.
“Math is annoying.” He groans.
Our houses come into view and we disconnect.
I start up the stairs to my house when Devin’s momma appears on the porch. “Veronica, baby. Your Momma called and said she picked up a double. You’re coming over here until your daddy gets home.”
“Okay.” I frown. Daddy doesn’t usually get off until supper time, which means I won’t be able to paint until after dinner.
“Yes.” Devin pulls his fist down. “Mom, can we play Mario Kart? We don’t have much homework, and Roni can help me with math.”
Ms. Maisie smiles sadly at us. “Sure thing.” She wraps one arm around my shoulder and ushers me inside.
I look up at her. There’s worry in her eyes and it makes my tummy flutter with worry too. “Is Momma okay?” I ask.
A single tear rolls down her cheek before she can catch it. “Yes, sweet girl. She’s gonna be just fine.”
Roni, age 18
Sunlight peeks through the sheer bedroom curtains, shining brightly in my face. I press my eyes shut. My mouth feels like I spent the night sucking on a cotton ball and my head is throbbing. Peeling one eye open, I glance around the room. Memories of the night before slowly unveil themselves like a new leaf on a plant.
There’s a bottle of water on my nightstand, next to an empty cup, a packet of Alka Seltzer, and a note, along with the stack of sketches Chloe found yesterday.
Drink this. Also, we’re partying at Reese's house tomorrow night. Glad you’re back.
P.S. Should I be worried about these?
A smile stretches across my face and for the first time I notice my window is cracked. I’m not sure when he snuck in to deliver the hangover survival kit, but with the way my head feels, I’m grateful that he did, even if he spotted my embarrassing early attempts at realism.
I mix the medicine with some of the water and chug it down. Then I sit back against the headboard and snag the drawings from the nightstand. Nine-year-old me hadn’t yet figured out her niche would be still-life, but they aren't so terrible.
My phone rings and I glance over to see mom’s face. “Hello?” My voice is raspy when I answer.
“Hey, baby girl, are you still in bed?”
“Yeah,” I say, stealing a swig of water.