That’s when we got that emergency foster placement witch, and after that Francine.
* * *
■ ■ ■
I still haven’t told you the worst part of the story.
It’s coming. Just not yet.
24
Thursday morning, the Southern butter pecan creamer was on my desk. Still unopened. Nevaeh was sitting at her desk with her face a little turned away from me.
I said, “You don’t want it?”
She turned back to me, and I saw that she was smiling. “I’m giving you custody,” she said. “For now.”
I grinned in relief. “I can’t believe you haven’t finished it.”
She said, “How do you know that’s the same bottle?” Then she added, “My mom doesn’t drink coffee. I don’t think you can pour that stuff into a Coke.”
I tucked the creamer into my desk. “We could try.”
“You try,” Nevaeh said. “Want to spend the night at my house tomorrow? My mom said you could.”
“Oh.” Wow. I knew people did things like that. Friends did things like that. I just never had. I said, “I think I have to ask Francine.”
“Well, sure,” Nevaeh said. “That’s how it works. Give me her phone number, and tonight my mom will call and ask her.”
“Okay.” This was all new. I said, “Sometimes I don’t know the rules.”
“I usually do,” Nevaeh said. “You can always ask me.”
* * *
■ ■ ■
Suki said, “No.”
“Suki!”
“We don’t know anything about these people,” Suki said. “We don’t know who all lives in their house. We don’t know what sort of stuff they get up to.”
“It’s just Nevaeh and her mom,” I said.
“You don’t know that for sure,” Suki said.
“I’ll ask,” Francine said. “That’s my job.” She looked at Suki. “It’s also my decision to make. Not yours.” Back to me. “Della, do you want to go?”
“Yes,” I said. “What, Suki, you’re working again anyway. It’s not like we’d do anything fun.” I liked Food City, and Maybelline, but not as much as being with Nevaeh.
“I’d know where you were,” she said. “I’d know you were safe.”
“You’ll know where I am,” I said. “I’ll be with Nevaeh. And her mom. That’s plenty safe.” When she didn’t answer, I said, “A real mom, Suki.”
Suki just glared at me.
* * *
■ ■ ■
When Nevaeh’s mom called, Francine asked her all sorts of personal questions and also made sure she knew I was a foster kid. She said saying that was part of the rules for foster care. She also said Suki’d be working at Food City and she herself would be out with friends, but she gave Nevaeh’s mom her phone number and said she’d come get me anytime for any reason.
I could not imagine a reason that would make me call Francine.
“You could do it too,” I said to Suki. “You could go stay at Teena’s house when your shift was over.”
“Not Teena—”
“One of your other friends.” When she glared at me, I said, “We get to do stuff like this now, Suki.”
She said, “I didn’t know you were desperate to be away from me.”
I said, “Says the person who put me in after-school without asking.”
So. Francine told us to knock it off. Suki and I didn’t speak to each other the rest of the night. Until two a.m., when she woke up screaming again and I sang “Skinnamarinky” until she fell back asleep.
* * *
■ ■ ■
Friday morning, I filled my backpack with pajamas and clean underwear and my toothbrush and stuff. When I got to school Nevaeh said, “Did you finally remember your swimsuit?”
She’d reminded me, like, sixty times. I put my backpack in my cubby in our classroom. “I don’t have a swimsuit,” I said. “I’ve never had one. I’ve never once been in a swimming pool.”
Nevaeh laughed. “Why didn’t you say so? They’ve got a bunch of old suits in the pool office. They won’t mind if you take one.”
I nearly made a face—aren’t used swimsuits even skankier than used shoes?—but lucky I didn’t, because she added, “That’s where I got mine.”
Swimming—scary, possibly creepy. I looked at Nevaeh, grinning. I said, “Okay.”
* * *
■ ■ ■
Turns out used swimsuits aren’t as skanky as used shoes. Pool water has chlorine in it, which is the same stuff that’s in bleach, so the used suits were faded and ugly, but they smelled really clean. The person in the swimming pool office helped me dig through the box and find a suit that would probably fit. Nevaeh and Luisa and I changed in the locker room. I got into the swimsuit as fast as I could, and even then it felt strange not to be wearing more clothes.
“Is it going to be like a bathtub?” I asked. Clifton’s house didn’t have a bathtub, and neither did Francine’s, but anytime you saw a bathtub on TV, it was full of bubbles and the people in it looked warm and comfy.
Nevaeh raised her eyebrows at me. “Sure,” she said.
Luisa was stuffing her hair into a plastic cap. She said, “I mean, not really—”
Nevaeh said, “The best thing to do is just jump right in!” She grabbed my hands and jumped and pulled me in with her.
Into the coldest water in the universe.
I swear, there were icebergs floating in that pool.
I stood up, sputtering, my toes barely touching the bottom and my ears about to freeze and fall off. Nevaeh laughed and laughed. “Your face,” she said. “Your face.”
Meanwhile Luisa was climbing down the ladder, inch by inch, grimacing.
“Don’t they heat swimming pools?” I asked. I liked my showers hot.
Luisa said, “They say they do. It never feels like it.”
Nevaeh said, “You get used to it. And it really is better to jump in all at once.”
“Sort of.” Luisa pinched her nose shut and launched herself off the middle of the ladder. She went all the way under and came up laughing.
There was an inflatable slide at one end of the pool. We climbed up it and slid down and landed in water deeper than my head. I couldn’t touch the bottom and I couldn’t get my mouth out of the water and I was going to drown right there. Nevaeh grabbed my arm and pulled me to where it was shallower. On the side of the pool one of the counselors blew a whistle at me. “No more slide until you know how to swim.”
Okay. Drowning, not fun. Luisa got some float boards for us and showed me how to hold on to one and kick. Kick, kick, across the pool. It was sort of like dribbling a basketball. Then we practiced in the shallow end without the boards, sort of hopping and flailing and splashing around. I wasn’t swimming, but I could sort of understand how swimming might feel. I could maybe do it, if I kept practicing.
* * *
■ ■ ■
Nevaeh’s mom picked the two of us up from the Y. She looked worn out, but she smiled when she saw us, and she kissed Nevaeh. That was, like, real mom behavior. What you saw on TV.
“Sorry to say this,” she said as she swung out of the parking lot, “but we’re going to have to stop at Food City. I haven’t got a thing at home to feed you girls.”
I started laughing. It was so perfect. Friday night. With a friend. At Food City.
“Mom,” Nevaeh said, “Food City is where the creamer is. It’s Della’s favorite place in the world.”
* * *
■ ■ ■
First thing we did, while Nevaeh’s mom was getting a cart, was say hi to Suki. She smiled at us, but she didn’t hug me and she didn’t quit scanning groceries. “I’m on the clock,” she said.
I pointed to Nevaeh’s mom. “Look,” I said, “she’s totally normal.”
&
nbsp; Suki rolled her eyes.
Next we ran to the deli to see Maybelline. She grinned too. “How are you?” she asked as she got us cookies.
“Great.” My hair was still wet from swimming, but I held a piece out to her. “You probably can’t tell, but I am using conditioner. So, thanks. I can’t stay to help you tonight,” I added. “Sorry.”
Maybelline said, “It’s okay. I’m glad you stopped by.”
After that, Nevaeh and I spent a little time playing hopscotch on the floor tiles in the produce section. We fell into a stand of navel oranges and knocked a bunch down and had to chase after them as they rolled away.
Tony walked over while we were still stacking the oranges back into a pyramid. “Hey, sunshines,” he said, smiling. “Good to see you two. Did you enjoy your free cookies?”
I nodded. Nevaeh reached into the vegetable display. She pulled out a big brown lump of a vegetable and asked Tony what it was.
“That,” Tony said, “is a rutabaga.”
“What do you do with it?”
“Honestly?” Tony said. “I have no idea.”
This made us laugh. So did the strawberry cheesecake creamer in the next aisle. We were still giggling when we caught up to Nevaeh’s mom. She smiled at us and said, “Get it together, girls.”
Nevaeh was carrying the rutabaga. She stuck it in the cart when her mom wasn’t looking. Her mom didn’t notice it, not even when we got to the checkout. It was Suki who grabbed it and rolled her eyes at me and made me run put it back where it belonged.
When we got to the apartments where Nevaeh and her mom lived, Nevaeh and I helped carry the groceries up the stairs. Nevaeh showed me where to hang my wet swimsuit in the bathroom since they didn’t have a dryer.
In the kitchen, Nevaeh’s mom was making sandwiches. I opened the refrigerator and looked inside.
“Della,” Nevaeh’s mom said, “that’s kind of rude.”
“Oh.” I shut the door. I looked at the ground. I didn’t know.
Nevaeh said, “Sometimes you’ve got to tell Della the rules.”
Nevaeh’s mom said, “Well, I just did,” in a perfectly normal voice, which made me feel better. “Are you that hungry?” she asked. “I’ll have something ready for us soon.”
“Not really,” I said. “I just wondered what, you know, normal families ate.”
Nevaeh’s mom laughed. “Oh, honey. There’s no such thing as a normal family.”
* * *
■ ■ ■
We stayed up past midnight, all three of us, watching weird stuff on TV. Nevaeh’s mom made a big bowl of popcorn that we shared. Afterward, Nevaeh and I rolled up in blankets on the living room floor and turned out the lights and talked until she fell asleep mid-sentence, her mouth closing on her final word. I wadded my pillow under my head, stretched my legs long, and went to sleep too. It was the first night I’d ever spent away from Suki. I felt fine.
No one screamed in the night. In the morning, Nevaeh’s mom made us pancakes. It was, like, the best time ever.
25
When I got home, Suki was in a terrible mood. She’d gotten her schedule for the week, and she was only working six hours. Monday and Thursday. “I told them I wanted every Friday!” she said. “I’m not going to screw up again.”
She’d spent her 10 percent from buying Francine’s groceries on jet-black hair dye, of all things. She looked like a vampire. I didn’t say so. I tried telling her about Nevaeh’s house.
“Look,” she said, “I’m really not interested. Okay? I saw you with them. I know you were having a great time. Good for you.”
She didn’t sound glad. She said, “Teena came in again. Looking for you.”
Uh-oh. “Did you have another fight?”
“I didn’t say a single word to her. I’m not getting fired over Teena. But she’d better leave you alone.”
I thought of Teena’s phone number, safe inside my memory as well as on the napkin beneath the bathroom sink. I watched Suki prowl through the house, scowling.
I couldn’t call Teena on the landline, not without Suki hearing. I went to Francine. “Can I borrow your cell phone? I want to text my friend.” I didn’t say which friend.
I texted Teena. I’M OKAY. THANKS. HOW ARE YOU?
A minute later I got a reply. WHO IS THIS?
DELLA. FRANCINE’S PHONE.
She sent back a heart emoji and NOW IT’S IN MY CONTACTS. I CAN CHECK ON YOU.
I gave the phone back to Francine. She opened up the messages and read what I’d sent.
“Hey!” I said.
“My phone,” she said. She put it back in her pocket.
“What?” asked Suki.
“Nothing,” I said.
* * *
■ ■ ■
A whole week went by in which I didn’t use snow words or get in a fight with Trevor. I did my homework at the Y, and then I went swimming with Nevaeh and Luisa, every day, even though I sometimes missed Coach Tony and basketball.
Suki went to school, worked her two shifts, and slept. That’s all. I don’t know if she did homework. I don’t know if she even had homework. She used to, sometimes.
Her face was getting thinner, sharper. She woke up screaming every night. Francine called our social worker about her, but went into her bedroom to make the call. I stood right outside the closed door but couldn’t hear a thing she said.
We were worried about Suki. Just not worried enough.
* * *
■ ■ ■
On Friday when Francine and I got home, Suki was already sound asleep in bed. Francine frowned. “You going to be okay with your sister tonight?”
“We’re fine,” I said. “I don’t mind you going out. I can get us some dinner.”
Francine nodded. “There’s leftovers in the fridge. Call me if you need anything.”
While Francine got ready to go out, I went to check on Suki. She was wrapped in a blanket on the top bunk. I poked her.
“Go away!” she said.
After Francine left, I watched TV for a little bit and then I went and poked Suki again. “Hey!” I said. “Want to make us some mac ’n’ cheese?”
Suki woke up and sat up and roared. “Do I have to do EVERYTHING for you?” she shouted. “Can’t you even make yourself mac ’n’ cheese?”
I took a step back. My stomach dropped. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “No, Suki—”
“You’re ten years old! I had to take care of you my whole snow life! I had to take care of you when I was six! It was too much, all right? I was too little! When is somebody going to take care of me?”
I was crying hard by then, tears just pouring down my face. “Suki,” I gasped.
“Just leave me alone,” she said. “Just for today, okay? Just go away and leave me alone.” She threw the blanket over her head.
I went away. I left her alone.
I wish I hadn’t.
* * *
■ ■ ■
I made a box of mac ’n’ cheese. It turned out lousy. The noodles were still crunchy, and I didn’t drain them enough, so the cheese sauce was too thin. I ate the whole box anyway. It didn’t ease the ache in my stomach. Friday nights were our worst nights, always. I wished Suki and me were at Food City.
If I’d known how, I would have made popcorn. A big bowl. Maybe if I did, Suki would wake up and we’d watch a stupid movie, our hands colliding with each other’s in the popcorn bowl.
Francine’s house was nothing like Clifton’s, but I felt like I was back in Clifton’s house.
Somewhere around nine o’clock, I heard Suki crying. I went into the bedroom and climbed into the bunk beside her.
“I hate Fridays,” she said.
“I know.” I tried to cuddle her. She pushed me away. “Please don’t touch me tonight,” she said. “Please just le
ave me alone.”
I held out my hand, fingers splayed. She kept her hands beneath the covers. “C’mon,” I said. “Skinny-ma-rinky—”
“Not. Tonight.” Suki rolled over, her face toward the wall.
I went back into the living room. I dug in my backpack and found a book I’d forgotten about, from the school library. All about wolves. I read it. Wolves lived in big families called packs. They used to be endangered but they were doing better now.
Eventually I climbed into the bottom bunk. Suki was snoring above me. I fell asleep before Francine came home. I thought things were mostly all right.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
26
I woke up in the middle of the night because I needed to pee. I checked the upper bunk. Suki wasn’t there. I put my hand under the covers. The bed wasn’t warm.
Where was she? I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end.
The alarm clock on the dresser read 2:48. We were past Suki’s usual screaming time. I walked into the hallway, quiet as I could. Francine always left the light over the stove on all night. I could see Suki sitting on a chair next to the kitchen table.
On the table was a knife.
It was one of Francine’s kitchen knives, long and sharp. One she cuts onions with. She had used it to make dinner on Thursday and then I helped dry the dishes and I put the knife back in the drawer, but now it was in the center of the table. Suki was huddled up on the chair, arms around the top of her knees, staring at the knife like it was the best thing in the world, or the worst. Like she didn’t dare look away. Like the knife was some sort of evil thing, with a spell on it maybe; like it was singing a song only Suki could hear.
Fighting Words Page 10
