Chapter | 10

Every family has its own lore, which is something I learned about in Honors English last year. Each day of our lives, stories are created just by doing the things we do. As time goes by, the family comes to an unspoken agreement on what the favorite stories are going to be, and these are the ones that get repeated. As more time goes on, the stories change a little to make them more interesting. By consensus, the family usually goes along with that too.

Here’s the earliest contribution I made to my own family lore. I was only three years old at the time and we were vacationing in Florida, having a day on the beach. Somehow, someone took their eye off me for a second and I melted into the crowd of sunscreened beachgoers. When Mom found me she was frantic, but I was happily digging in the sand with a broken plastic shovel that some other child had abandoned.

“You got lost,” I said to her, and then went back to my digging.

No matter who told this story it would always be followed by laughter. It was a funny thing, right? I was the one who was lost and yet I thought it was Mom. But now I can’t seem to remember the girl who always thought she knew where she was.

__________

“Krista!” Emma’s at the bottom of the ladder calling up to me. She’s not allowed to climb the ladder. Neither is Chad, thank goodness for that. “Are you awake yet?”

I hear the ladder rattling violently and I know it’s Chad. Emma would never be that bold.

“Knock it off!” I yell from inside the tent. “I’ll be down in a while.” I do a quick mental calculation. It’s Saturday, so this must be the day I’m expected to pitch in with the kids who Marie rarely sees. Yes, she’s sick. Yes, she runs my father’s office like a well-oiled machine, as he’s fond of saying.

Henry’s crying has become one of the usual sounds I can now sleep through. “La la la.” His puny lungs can only manage short eruptions so far. In twelve years, he could be rattling someone’s ladder.

There’s no going back to sleep now so I get up and throw on my sweat shorts and the blue t-shirt I wore last night. Magic happened inside that t-shirt, and this morning I still can’t believe it. Now I know how Cinderella felt when her carriage turned back into a pumpkin. But it crosses my mind I won’t ever get a second chance with the prince.

Emma’s wearing a pair of yellow capri leggings with a white frilly blouse. She’s squatting on the driveway, being careful not to let any dirt soil her outfit. When she hears the ladder creaking she looks up with excitement in her eyes and tosses back her silvery blonde hair. She stands up and runs to the bottom of the ladder to greet me.

“Yay! What are we doing today?” she asks.

Chad is lying on his back on the driveway with his arms and legs outstretched in a snow angel position. He looks up at me and, once I’ve reached the bottom of the ladder, he stands too but says nothing.

“Let me get some breakfast and see what’s going on.” I walk into the house with the kids trailing after me.

Dad and Marie are in their bedroom with the door shut.

“Mommy’s sick,” Emma says forlornly.

“Your dad’s sick too,” Chad adds.

Freaking great. Now all that’s left is for me to get sick, which seems preferable to being stuck entertaining Chad and Emma.

“So what are we going to do?” they ask, almost in unison.

“Let me think! God, I just woke up.” They have no idea they’re being punished for my own stupidity last night. “Go watch TV while I eat.”

“Mommy says we’re not supposed to watch TV,” Emma says. But Chad goes over and turns on the set anyway.

“It’s okay to watch because Krista gave us permission.” He’s smart and he’s already planned his defense if Marie should catch him breaking her rules.

Emma’s not having any of that. She knows that her mother’s intent is more important than any technicalities. She pulls a Barbie doll out of a pink backpack that is lying on the floor and gets to work combing the doll’s hair with a tiny, pink, plastic brush.

I’m beginning to feel a little guilty. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do.” Emma’s face lights up and Chad actually turns away from his show about the world’s most dangerous professions. “We’re going to clean Charlie’s cage.” I feel somewhat proud that I’ve come up with this.

“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Chad turns back to the TV. Emma’s smile falls upside down.

“Just help me do it and I’ll think of something fun for later. But first help me empty the dishwasher.” Emma immediately walks over and stacks dishes according to size on the counter. After a few minutes, Chad turns off the TV and begins to pull out the cutlery, handing me the spoons and forks one by one. He’s slowing me down but I’m not going to let him get away with doing nothing.

When we’re done with the morning dishes we carry a garbage bag and some corn cob bedding for the cage bottom into the study. Charlie squawks with interest. He doesn’t usually get this many visitors.

“Ew! He’s gross,” Emma shrieks after one look at his featherless breast. Chad holds the leaf of lettuce I told him to select for Charlie’s treat.

“Come on, Charlie boy.” I stick my finger into the cage next to him but he ignores it.

“I don’t think he likes you,” Chad helpfully offers. Chad knows because he doesn’t like me so much himself.

We pull out the perches and sand away the accumulated bird poo, and Emma trots off to the bathroom to scrub out his water dish. She returns with a fresh dish of water filled so high that it spills with every step she takes.

“What’s that white stuff in the bird poo?” she asks when we empty the dirty litter into the garbage bag.

“That’s bird poo too, idiot.” Chad turns away from my fierce glare and carefully inserts the leaf of lettuce between two bars of Charlie’s cage. “Okay, now what?” he asks.

“Do you guys want to see a movie?” I’m thinking of the theater at the mall where Jake works. I turned things around once in that sporting goods store. Maybe I can do it again.

“Yay! A movie!” Emma hops up and down.

“What movie?” Chad asks suspiciously.

“Something you both agree on. Come on, let’s go check out what’s playing.”

__________

“Why are we here?” Chad demands to know when we pull into the covered parking lot of the mall. “There’s a theater much closer to where you live. And it’s a lot nicer than this.”

“This is a nice theater,” I say. “C’mon, let’s go.” I’m anxious to get to the store where Jake works. It’s a little out of the way and I don’t want them to miss the beginning of the movie.

Once we get there, I can’t bring myself to go in not knowing what kind of reception I’ll get from Jake.

“Chad, go in and walk around and see if there’s a guy working who’s about my age and has wavy brown hair,” I say. I’ve begun to feel that Chad and Emma are my captives and I can do what I want with them. This is probably why my father is so frustrated with me all the time. I’ve grown past the age where he can make me do things.

Chad is gone for a long time—about ten minutes. Emma starts to fret.

“Where’s Chad? What if someone kidnapped him?” she wants to know. “Daddy won’t let us go into a store by ourselves.”

“We’re standing at the door,” I try to reassure her. “Nobody could take him without going past us.” Nevertheless, I’m starting to feel a little worried, and I’m just about to go in when Chad strolls out.

“Did you see him?” I can’t disguise the intense interest in my voice even though I try.

“Jake?” Chad asks.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“He was wearing a name tag.”

“So you saw him?” Chad’s not going to tell me anything voluntarily. I’ll have to pry it out of him. “Did he look like he was busy?” I’m trying to build up my nerve to go in and say hi.

“Busy with a pretty girl,” Chad smirks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean just talking to a really pretty girl, like . . . flirting, you know. She was laughing a lot.” I can tell Chad is enjoying this despite the thoughtful look he’s trying to wear.

“Let’s go before we miss the start of the movie.” They follow me toward the theater. My cheeks are burning with shame.

__________

The movie is an animation about zoo animals and wild animals. It’s just peaceful enough that I manage to fall asleep. When it’s over Emma shakes my arm. My neck is twisted at an awkward angle and a little spit pools at the side of my mouth. Chad looks at me in disgust.

“You slept late enough today,” he scolds me. “Can’t you manage to stay awake during the day?”

I sit up straight and shake the fog from my brain. Chad has a point. Emma strokes my hair in the dark theater while the credits roll.

“Be nice to Krista! Maybe she’s getting sick too.” She’s partially right. I’ve been sick for two years.

“Now what?” Chad wants to know.

“I don’t know. What would you be doing if you were at your own house?” I can’t even figure out what I want to do, let alone plan for Emma and Chad.

“Playing with friends,” they say in unison and then burst out laughing.

“And swimming and going to the water park and playing video games,” Chad adds.

“And I have all my stuff at my house and nothing but one Barbie here.” Emma senses a grave injustice. “And we were supposed to go to Disneyland.” She draws out “land” into about three syllables.

“Let’s go for a drive, I’ll bet you don’t get to do that very often when you’re at home.” The lights of the theater are on and two employees roll a large garbage can through the aisles. One of them tosses empty popcorn and soda containers into it while the other sweeps under the seats.

“Yay! A drive.” Emma claps her hands together and hops up and down. “Can I sit in front this time?”

“Yeah, sure. You guys take turns.”

“Emma’s not allowed to sit in the front,” Chad says. “She’s too little. Mom will get mad.”

“I am too!” Her face scrunches up like she’s about to cry.

“Okay, okay. How about Emma sits in front until we get where we’re going and then you guys can trade again?” I hope this will put an end to the argument. I just want to get going.

Emma seems surprised but happy, like she’s just pulled off a major manipulation. I worry that maybe Chad is telling the truth and not just looking for trouble. I’ll make sure to drive extra safely.

“So where is it?” Chad asks.

“Where’s what?”

“Where is it that we’re going? You said when we get there we can switch seats.”

“Oh . . . you’ll see when we’re there. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

Chad looks skeptical. I feel like a scumbag for what I’m about to do.

“Why are we driving here?” Emma is nervous.

“Obviously, this isn’t a real drive,” Chad says. “This is just someplace that Krista wants to go and she’s making us go with her.”

Emma swivels her head to look at me. She doesn’t want Chad to be right but she knows he usually is.

“Don’t be silly guys.” I look at Chad in my rearview mirror. He’s slumped in the back seat, his arms folded across his chest. “This is a sort of like a field trip. You can see how other people live. People who don’t have money like us.”

“We don’t have a lot of money,” Chad sulks. “Not like your dad.”

“We’re not poor like this, Chad.” Emma swings around in her seat to defiantly face down her brother.

“No, not like this.” Chad is slightly on the defensive and has decided it might not be such a good thing to identify with this neighborhood. “Our house is a lot nicer.”

I perform a U-turn in the middle of the street and pull into my usual spot facing 758 but on the wrong side of the street. Today the driveway is empty and no one’s outside.

“Why are we stopping? I’m scared.” I detect a mild tremble in Emma’s voice.

“Let’s just sit for a while.” I put on my most reassuring voice. “We’re safe in the Hornet.” I push the auto lock button and both doors make a clicking sound. “Just stay in the car and don’t get out.”

“I’m squished back here. I don’t understand why we have to stay. We’ve seen what we came to see which is how poor people live.” Chad is too big for the Hornet’s back seat. I should have let him sit up front.

“Okay, hang on. You guys can switch seats in a few minutes.”

The front door of 758 opens, and the boy walks out with his ball. A younger girl follows him out and sits on the dried grass of the front lawn. She’s barefoot and wearing a faded pair of green shorts and a Barbie T-shirt. Emma and Chad are instantly mesmerized.

“Are those poor kids?” Emma is wide-eyed.

“Of course they are, idiot!”

I give Chad a backward angry glare in the rearview mirror. “Cool it with the negative language or I’ll tell your mom.”

“I’ll tell my mom where you took us,” Chad shoots back. I hadn’t said anything about not telling their mom but they’re smart kids and quickly understand this is something to be kept between the three of us. “And that you let Emma sit up front.”

“Don’t get Krista in trouble.” Emma twists her body in order to look directly at her brother.

“Okay, okay. Everyone just settle down. Nobody’s getting anybody in trouble.” I put on my adult voice hoping to give them the false impression that I have everything under control.

The boy stands in the driveway and begins to juggle the ball with his right foot. He’s skillful considering the lack of control one can usually exert over a ball that bouncy.

Chad watches him carefully. “He’s pretty good,” he says after a few minutes. “Better than anyone on my soccer team.”

He seems a little older than Chad. More mature.

The ball has been kicked a little too high and it bounces into the street. It rolls almost directly in front of my car due to the slight downward angle of the road. With lightning quick speed, Emma unlocks the door and jumps out of the car to retrieve the ball.

“Emma!” Chad and I both call after her at the same time. I get out of the car and Chad’s right behind me.

But Emma has already picked up the ball. She smiles brightly at the young boy who’s come to retrieve it. She pauses for a minute and then tosses it to him with perfect accuracy. The boy returns her smile and then runs back to his front lawn. His younger sister watches the scene from the safety of her front lawn. She is wide-eyed.

“Idiot!” Chad grabs Emma by the hand. “Krista said to stay in the car.” His voice is mean but I know he’s just feeling protective of her.

The woman, who is obviously their mother, walks out the front door and calls to them in her language. Their faces register disappointment and the boy walks into the house with his sister right behind him. Then the woman turns and looks directly at me.

“Go!” she speaks loudly in thickly accented English. “Leave the children alone! I know who you are.” She turns and walks into the house, slamming the door behind her.

Chad and Emma are standing next to the Hornet with shocked expressions. I open the passenger side door.

“Get in. Let’s go.” I avoid eye contact with them.

“How does that lady know you, Krista?” Emma asks as she scrambles into the back seat. There’s no arguing about who sits where anymore.

“Why did you get out of the car?” Chad is clearly upset and doesn’t know any other way to deal with his fear. He must now make this about Emma.

Emma’s face scrunches up again but this time she really does cry. A man who lives next door comes out of his house and stands on his front lawn. He looks over at the Hornet and shakes his head.

“Let’s go get ice cream,” I suggest. But there is no exclamation of delight or clapping of hands from Emma, and Chad merely grunts.

When we walk in the door, Marie is waiting for us. She hasn’t seen the kids all day and she asks them if they’ve had fun. Emma runs to her mother and hugs her.

“Are you feeling better, Mommy?”

Chad wants to know if we have a soccer ball that he can borrow for a while. He goes off to the garage in search of it. My father is still in bed and has been sleeping all day.

“How was your date last night, Krista?” Marie turns her attention to me. “We tried to wait up for you last night but, honestly we were both feeling so rotten.”

“It was good.” I know this kind of noncommittal answer drives parents crazy, but it’s the best I can come up with. “We had fun.”

Where would I begin even if I did want to tell her how the date went? He’s the perfect guy. He’s nice. He’s smart. He’s interesting and seemed interested in me. It’s the first time ever that a guy’s asked me out on a date, and I still can’t believe it was Jake Robbins. And . . . oh yeah, I managed to completely screw everything up.

“Is he a nice young man?”

“Very nice.”

“Well, I’m sorry your father and I didn’t get to meet him. Maybe next time.” This is her way of trying to find out if there will even be a next time.

“Maybe,” I say and am about to excuse myself to do some reading in the tent when I notice that Chad’s back from the garage holding a soccer ball under his arm. I’m not sure how long he’s been standing there listening to me and Marie.

“What was the name of the guy you went out with last night?” he asks.

“Jake, wasn’t it Krista?” Marie asks.

“Yeah . . . Jake.” I flash a warning look at Chad but his eyes don’t betray a thing.