Petty Rage: Westbrook Blues Book 4

by Mpofu, Thandiwe

  She’s a sweet little genius with her long, curly flowing blonde hair that reaches her mid-back. She needs a haircut, but at least her hair looks better today after I used some of the fancy shampoo and conditioner I scored from my new job.

  Her faded jeans and white tee are also new. Well, new to her, but my torn-up heart breaks a little when I notice she’s wearing her old, color faded, tattered Converse Chucks.

  I make a mental note to go to the thrift store after I drop them off at school.

  “Eat your cereal, smarty-pants,” I order, trying to be serious. “Casey, come on babe, we’re going to be late!”

  “I’m coming!”

  “What is she doing in there?” I mumble, closing the drawer I was rummaging.

  “She’s your mini-me,” Laura says with a mouthful of cereal. “What do you think she’s doing?”

  Of course. The little diva is probably switching outfits from the one I laid out for her.

  God, I swear that girl’s going to be the death of me. My heart clenches painfully, but just as quickly as it comes, I shake it away.

  “Well, you’re both my mini-mes,” I say, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as I move around the small kitchen to the other side.

  “Nope. I’m dressed and ready to go which means, I’m on time. Casey is not. Don’t get it confused, Kimmy.”

  “Well, don’t speak with your mouth full, Laura,” I admonish softly, getting down on my knees to check under the cabinets.

  “Are you looking for Casey’s meds?” Laura asks worriedly. I tense up, then slowly get up.

  I hate when she uses that tone, so I plaster my everything is fine smile.

  “Yes,” I say softly, keeping my voice level and confident. “Have you seen them?”

  “It’s finished,” she says, her voice low and sad.

  Oh God.

  I grip the edge of the counter with sweaty palms. Of course the meds are finished and I freaking missed it.

  It was at the back of my mind to get her new meds, but I had a double shift yesterday then I was called in for an emergency clean-up…

  “That’s fine,” I say in a rush. “Do you have your inhaler?”

  “Uh, about that…” It’s empty. “It’s almost finished, Kimmy.”

  Yup. Just another shitty thing to go wrong on the first day of school.

  Laura suffers from Nocturnal Asthma, but I make her keep her inhaler on her at all times.

  It’s brutal on her at night, and sometimes it makes it difficult for her to sleep so she spends the night reading, tucked next to her sister and me. Thus, the whole Kim snores part.

  And Casey… well, Casey was born addicted to drugs—thanks to Luci who took heavy drugs while she was pregnant with her.

  Sometimes, in the middle of the fucking day, my mind goes back to the times her tiny body shook violently as she had seizures. I remember the way her skin was yellow, patchy and wrinkly. Nothing at all like a newborn should look…

  Tears sting my eyes, but I quickly blink them away.

  She overcame that and now, she’s my beautiful baby. Small for her age, but with a huge fucking heart, a personality that would put adults to shame and a mind that’s so sharp, I can’t keep up at times.

  Every single day that passes, I’m grateful that she’s still with us.

  “That’s okay. Nothing lasts forever anyway,” I say, keeping my tone even and light. Kids pick up on everything. “We’ll just have to make one quick stop before we get to school.”

  And that will be the last of the money I have, which means I can’t make it to the thrift store for Laura’s shoes.

  Fuck, what do I do?

  I get up from the floor with a plastered smile on my face, making damn sure that my eyes get the memo.

  A smile doesn’t really count unless your eyes do the same. Laura knows that so I keep that in mind, but she’s already watching me, a worried look on her face.

  “Hey, what’s that face for?” I ask, a mock frown on my face. “It’ll only take five minutes. You’ll make it on time to school.”

  “I’m not worried about school,” she mumbles softly. My heart starts pounding in my chest. Please don’t ask about mom. I can’t face that line of questioning today.

  “Then what is it, babe?” I ask softly, not wanting to make her feel like she can’t speak up. She might be snarky, but only with people she’s comfortable with. Otherwise, she’s a self-conscious, sensitive kid and it breaks my heart when she looks down at her lap and my heart clenches.

  “What is it, sweetie?”

  “It’s just… I’m worried about you,” she whispers.

  Ah fuck.

  Here’s the thing that most parents or guardians who actually give a damn about their kids understand. I do my best to hide the ugly parts of our struggle from my sisters. So, for her to say that makes my heart ache.

  Maybe I’m not doing a good job of hiding all that crap?

  Bitch, you’re not doing a good job of raising these precious, beautiful souls that don’t deserve the crap that is you. Period.

  At least five times a day, that snarky voice whispers those nasty words to me. It cuts me deep each time, but I shoulder on, pretending like nothing’s wrong.

  “Hey, I’m fine,” I say, leaning down so I can see her beautiful face. “There’s no need to be worried about me.”

  She deadpans. “I know you haven’t eaten anything. Again.”

  Because the food we have is enough for two.

  “I’ll eat at work. You know this,” I say softly, but she doesn’t look convinced, so I switch tactics. “Besides, remember that pair of jeans we saw last week at the mall?”

  “Yes?” She looks up, her eyes twinkling.

  “Yeah well, they only have it available in a few sizes, so I need to make sure I score the best size. And that means, I should watch what I eat.”

  “So, in other words, you’re starving yourself for a pair of jeans?” A sweet, innocent eight-year-old voice questions worriedly behind me.

  God.

  Turning around, I spot my youngest sister, dressed in a cute polka dot skirt, a little red top that used to belong to Laura and her favorite pair of black boots I got for a steal over the summer.

  She looks great! And to think she trumped my choice of a cute little dress and ballet flats.

  “Well, are you?” Laura presses, pulling me back to the conversation.

  “No, no, I’m not starving myself for a pair of jeans,” I say cheerfully. “I’m just choosing to watch what I eat. Your health is your…”

  “Wealth!” they both say.

  “Yes, so that means I can’t eat this… sugary cereal in the morning,” I say, but I have to quickly change the topic. The more we talk about food, the more they’ll ask what I can and cannot eat, which will lead to them pressing deeper into the topic. “Casey, is that what you’re wearing for your first day?”

  “Her outfit is cute,” Laura says, waving a hand dismissively. “But don’t change the topic.”

  “Yes, don’t change the topic. What do you eat, Kimmy?” Casey questions, her head tilted to the left as if studying me. Urgh, time for the big guns!

  “Well, I eat a lot of fruit, granola bars… even oatmeal.”

  “Oatmeal?” both of them say at the same time. “Eww.”

  The disgust is clear and so damn mutual. I hate oatmeal. Haven’t eaten it in years, but I keep my poker face on.

  “Yes, oatmeal. It’s so good!” I rub my tummy and they both groan in disgust.

  “Kimmy, you’re weird,” Casey the queen bee says.

  Both my sisters are smart and truthful but sometimes blunt in a way that hurts your feelings if you can’t handle it, and they both have my character… clapping back with snarky come backs.

  “And you are late, miss thing. Come on and eat your unhealthy cereal.”

  “It’s delicious,” Casey counters but does what she’s told.

  As they eat, I pack their lunch, and then secretly tuck
five-dollar bills in each of their lunch bags, just in case.

  It’s not much and I wish to God it was something of substance, but this is all I have for now.

  I know firsthand the danger of having nothing in your pocket.

  You never know when you might need some money… and I need my sisters to never feel as trapped and desperate as I was.

  I never want them to feel so reduced by begging or feeling inadequate like I did when I was growing up with a mother who mentally, emotionally and then physically checked out on me years ago, even when I looked after her through both pregnancies. Even delivering Laura.

  “We’re out of here in three minutes, ladies. So, hustle up,” I say.

  I grab my detangling brush to quickly do Casey’s stubborn knots. She sits still, eating her cereal while Laura reads a book about animals.

  “Didn’t you finish that book yesterday?” Casey asks.

  “I did but I need to make sure I remember everything. I want to impress my new teacher,” Laura says.

  “Why, Laura?” I question, my protective instincts kicking in.

  Impressing adults is not my thing because men, and their various ways, always find ways to oppress the weak, including helpless children.

  It won’t be my sisters. Never.

  “Why? Hello! It’s not just a new grade and new teacher! It’s a new school, Kimmy! And I have to make sure I get that scholarship.”

  Everything in me halts to a stop.

  “What?” I pause, staring at my sister with wide eyes as something tingles at the back of my head. “You go to Valley Elementary School.”

  “No,” she says softly. “I’m starting middle school today. I skipped a grade, remember?” Laura says, her voice getting smaller and softer like she wants to cry. “We have that interview at Westbrook Blues Prep School this morning.”

  Shit, shit, fucking shit.

  I quickly rush to my bag and grab my journal and sure enough, circled with red lipstick and highlighted with Laura’s orange marker is her first day of school.

  But instead of the location being that of Westbrook Valley Elementary like I thought, her first day is at a bougie ass private middle school in Westbrook Blues.

  Important: Interview at Westbrook Blues Prep School 4 Laura. VERY IMPORTANT for Casey as well!

  Fuck.

  How did I miss this?

  Oh yeah, I’ve been out of my freaking mind for weeks now. Nothing’s been the same since…well, since forever but after Hell Day and everything that went down with Noah…

  Fuck, fuckity fuck!

  The truth is, I’m a wreck.

  I can hardly eat or sleep. All I’m able to do is throw myself at my responsibilities, working like a dog the entire summer but apparently, I haven’t been doing a good job of keeping up with my responsibilities at all if something as major as this slipped my fucking mind.

  I mean, I was working hard all summer for this very reason!

  For Laura to get into that fancy school! Because if Laura gets in, then Casey’s chances are pretty high as well!

  Damn it, Kim.

  “Oh man, I knew you forgot,” Laura says, trying to be brave but I can tell that just bummed her out. “I knew was dressed wrong.”

  This interview really is important. It will determine whether Laura gets the scholarship or not. She was already accepted, and I did put the deposit down but everything else… depends on the interview I forgot that starts in exactly forty-five minutes.

  “I’m sorry, babe, it slipped my mind,” I mumble, biting my bottom lip.

  Everything’s all wrong.

  She doesn’t even have the uniform!

  She doesn’t have her inhaler!

  Casey’s meds are finished, and she can’t skip a day without them.

  And to top it all off, we’re going to be late.

  I have to go to the drug store, then to Valley Elementary to drop Casey off, then to the private school.

  I glance at my sisters, both of them are watching me, worry in their wide, expressive and innocent eyes.

  After what they went through two years ago when that monster kidnapped them all to teach me and Astraea a lesson, I need to protect that innocence.

  Laura is only now recovering from the nightmares of that night and Casey still can’t sleep without her nightlight on, or without double checking if the windows and doors are locked.

  Good things hardly happen to some of us so when something like this, an opportunity to advance and be great, is presented on nothing but pure merit—no manipulations or threats—then we have to do everything possible to hold on to that opportunity.

  “You know, Kimmy, I can always go back to Valley—” Laura starts but I cut her off.

  “No way!” I say, rushing to grab my new car keys. “You will start the school year at your new school. You worked so hard to get in and hard work always pays. Besides, no one in this house skips school on their first day, right?”

  “But, Kimmy…”

  “It’s fine, Laura. Everything’s fine,” I say, trying to assure them but knowing damn well that I’m trying to make myself believe in the impossible.

  They both look skeptical as they look up at me, empty bowls of cereal in front of them on the chipped table. I need to pump them up. “Are you with me, lions?”

  I repeat the line from The Lion King movie they both love.

  “Yes!” they both squeal, getting up from their seats.

  “I can’t hear you!”

  “Yes!”

  “Good, now rush and rinse your mouth with that new bubblegum mouthwash and let’s hit the road. Last one out the door is a rotten egg!”

  And off they go.

  My smile fades almost immediately as soon as they leave the small kitchen. I quickly grab my wallet and count the few dollars in there. It’s not enough, God it’s not nearly enough but I’ll just have to make do.

  It’s all on me though.

  It’s always been on me.

  Chapter 12

  KIM

  Past

  Noah: Are you still in Westbrook Blues?

  ME: Yes.

  Noah: Okay.

  ME: Why?

  Noah: Just checking to see if it’s safe to return or not. Clearly, it’s not. I can’t stand being in the same town as you.

  ME: And yet you still have my number. You still talk to me. You still want me, don’t you?

  Noah: What I want is to make you sorry for ever lying to me. One day you’re going to be sorry you ever met me.

  ME: There’s no ‘one fucking day’ about it. I’m already sorry I met you.

  Noah: No! You’re sorry you got caught! What were you expecting, Kimberly? That you’d wreak havoc in my world and slip away unscathed? That’s not how this fucking chapter ends.

  Present

  My new slow ass car does the job of getting us to the drugstore where we fill Casey’s prescription only to get another bomb dropped on my fucking ass.

  “Excuse me, miss.” From the tone of the pharmacist’s voice and the look on her face, I already know what she wants to say. So, I raise a finger for her to wait and then turn to look at my sisters, a tight smile on my face.

  “Laura, can you take your sister and check out that rack of books? It’s not too early to start planning your Christmas list.”

  The thing about Christmas? It sparks hope in the hearts of children, but as I watch them go with their hands locked, my heart grows heavy.

  I already know Santa fucking Claus doesn’t exist and this time around, I fear my sisters are going to get exposed to that ugly fact of life.

  “My apologies,” I say to the pharmacist. “You were saying?”

  “I ran your info, but it says here that you’re no longer covered by this health insurance provider.” Here we go. “Did you switch providers or would you like to pay upfront? Cash or card?”

  Fuck! I was really hoping the insurance was still working but apparently they cut me off as soon as they gave me the pink slip.
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  Casey’s meds are expensive, but they are necessary.

  In recent months, she sometimes she felt pain from out of the blue.

  Her skin sometimes feels cold and looks pale and then she starts sweating profusely, which made her cry and when that happens, I had no idea what to do.

  Going to the doctor costs huge bucks but I had no choice but to take her.

  The first doctor told me it was nothing. The narcissistic asshole thought my sister was just pretending. I cursed him out and took Casey to another one who told me it was probably some aftereffects of her ‘challenging and unfortunate birth.’

  I didn’t curse him out but I did accidentally step on his foot until he cried out. At least I did it after he wrote me the prescription slips—enough to last for a few months.

  As I think of that, it dawns on me where I am and who I’m talking to.

  This is one of the bougie, high-end drug stores in Westbrook Blues where they have a section of designer toiletry bags. Hell, it smells like a Sephora in here.

  “Uh, how much is it?” I ask.

  “The combined total, including the inhaler refill, is twelve hundred dollars.”

  Twelve hundred dollars!

  The lady blinks at me, waiting for her money or for me to get the hell out of her pharmacy.

  Trying to breathe through my nose, I open my wallet and literally give her all the money I have.

  “Also, the prescription is good for the next two weeks. You’ll have to come back again when it runs out.”

  “Two weeks?” I hiss. “Wait, why?”

  She stares at me as if I just lost my mind, so I tell her never mind and take the medication, my receipt then call the girls so we can leave.

  I also buy some water for Casey and watch her take her medicine. All five different types of expensive pills.

  Laura packs her new inhaler into her bag, and I make sure the one I keep on me in case of emergencies is full as well. I never go anywhere with Laura without it.

  I quickly drive to the elementary school, hating that the girls are getting separated, but the plan has always been to get one in and the other follows close after. If Laura can get a scholarship, maybe we can come up with an arrangement of sorts to get Casey enrolled as well.