Just Like Always

Just Like Always

"Hi, I'm Audrey. Can I sit with you?" The question came from the new girl. With her hoop earrings which almost touched her shoulders, and short dyed hair, she looked like a teenager, not a sixth grader. Why she chose to sit with me, I don't know. Nodding awkwardly, I moved my lunch sack to make room for her tray. Me, the least popular girl in class. Me, Dee, whose Mom can't ever hold down a job. Why not Joyce or one of the other popular girls?

As we ate, she jabbered about her family, how awful moving was, how she was glad to be in school. "I've been homeschooled." She slurped her milk, smiling. Stay away from me! I picked at my own sandwich. I was tuning her out, until she mentioned the upcoming museum field trip.

Crap. I felt the knot in my stomach tighten a little. I'd practiced Mom's signature, which was needed for the permission slip; would it fool our teacher? Trying to swallow a mouthful of bologna sandwich, I answered that of course, I was very excited. Anything to get out of school. At least that part was true.

The trouble really started after school a couple days before. I'd picked up my sister, Pat from kindergarten like always, we'd arrived home to a quiet house and a note from Mom. "Be back soon. X O." Not again! I pounded our counter in frustration, tears springing to my eyes. Pat wondered where Mom was this time. I shrugged helplessly. She pulled off her disappearing act, again!

That evening, we ate roast beef sandwiches and chips for dinner. I felt hurt to be in this predicament again. I was in charge of everything, not for the first time. Mom always turned up, we just never knew when. Across from me, Pat behaved normally, begging me to let her stay up late.

"Absolutely not. Not until school's over." I'd reminded her, "Finish your crust." Trying to be cheerful, I said we'd have fun. Besides, Mom can't hit you now. The bruise was fading from her cheek.

The next morning, I dropped Pat off with her class, reminding her I'd be there later like always, before heading to mine. Audrey greeted me with, "Hey. Nice shirt!" I thanked her, and we made small talk until the bell rang. Please don't ask about my family! I begged silently.

At lunch, Audrey and I ate together, with two other girls showing up halfway through. "Hey Audrey, you can join us." Joyce said, tossing her long braid over her shoulder. Audrey declined, saying she'd rather sit with me. They weren't pleased, but walked back to their friends. When I asked her why she'd just turned down the popular girls, Audrey said she couldn't stand all that drama.

At home, there was the problem of food. Mom had never been much of a cook, preferring fast food. Taking the twenty dollars I'd found, Pat and I went to a store near our house. We bought a pizza, bread, cereal, and milk. That night, we gobbled most of the pizza, but I knew we had to be careful.

As the days dragged on, only Audrey provided relief from the secrecy at home. We painted pictures in art, and she made me a friendship bracelet. Not with those stupid plastic beads either, but with actual glass ones. She never asked about home. I was beginning to trust her.

Our food nearly ran out one hot day. Skipping afternoon classes, I lied saying I had an appointment. Wiping sweaty hands on my shorts, I stopped outside a nearby store, I had no choice.

Inside, I squatted in the soda aisle. There it was, a dented case of Cola on the bottom shelf. Just waiting for me. Very slowly, I slid the torn box forward; quickly, I snatched a couple cans. Just two. Cramming them into my bag, I straightened up. Checking that the coast was clear, I wandered over to the canned foods. Sausages, ravioli, and tuna. That should do. Next, I made my way to the candy display next to the automatic doors. My hand hovered over a Butterfinger, I pretended to be looking at a magazine when one of the clerks glanced over. Plopping on a bench, I waited for my chance. When the doors opened again, I made my escape. That was fun! I congratulated myself. Dashing home, I was able to drop off the bags, then pick up Pat, just like always.

At dinner, Pat and I had our first argument. "I want cookies." She pouted, after I said she must eat dinner first. Shoving her ham sandwich aside, she began kicking her legs against the table, a habit she knew I can't stand. Thump, thump.

Still not giving in, I turned to my own meal. "Stop." I said in my angriest voice. The kicking continued. "Go to your room." I said, careful not to shout. Mom sometimes screamed, calling her Pat the brat.

"I hate you. You're not Mommy!" As I finished, I heard her throwing things around, nothing that was too breakable. In our doorway, I was hit in the face with a fluffy stuffed animal. I tossed it back, she threw it again, with more force. I ended it by rubbing a pillow on her head, messing up her hair. Squealing, she dodged, then snatched it back. We spent the next few minutes in a furious pillow fight; I let her win by hitting me over the head several times. The next morning, Pat and I awoke, tangled in a sheet on our floor. I didn't remember falling asleep.

The second time I shoplifted, it was a Saturday. Leaving Pat sleeping, I quietly closed our door, then walked to the store. The morning sun beat down on my baseball cap; I trudged on, wiping sweat off my forehead. Being on the empty street was strange, but I had to try this. Adjusting my bag on my shoulders, I wanted a drink of anything. Pausing before this new store's doors, I was relieved to be out of the sticky day.

The usual noise met me as I stepped into the air-conditioned store. Carts squeaked, music was playing, and the place was jam packed. Noticing the clerks were occupied, I wandered up this aisle, and down that one. Choosing canned food we liked, I prayed to whoever was up there that I could slip out. Staring at the soda, I reached for a twelve-pack of Cola, then let my hand drop. Too heavy! I groaned. Lingering at the candy counter, I added more goodies to my stash. Next, I carefully followed behind some teenagers who were just leaving. Outside, I released my breath which I'd been holding. Next stop, home!

Dropping my loot on the counter, I listened, all I heard was the hum of the refrigerator. Pat was still asleep, thank goodness. Mom’s Still gone, I shrugged.

We spent the day indoors, playing games. After eating more canned ravioli for supper, Pat and I watched Full House on TV, which was sort of funny. I'd love to have a family like that! I smiled watching the sisters with their Dad. "When is Mommy coming back?" Pat asked, scooting closer to me. I wanted to yell, "How should I know?" Swallowing those words, I answered with, "I don't know. Maybe tomorrow."

At bedtime, we slept under a sheet, because the air conditioner's broken. Our little fan always spits out more hot air than cold. I lay awake past nine o'clock; the Sandman must have been watching, because the next thing I knew, I slipped into dreamland.

Crap, we overslept. My still beeping alarm read 7:30! Shaking Pat, I ran to the bathroom. Choosing to brush my teeth, I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail. We threw on old clothes, we'd worn them for the past several days, but that couldn't be helped. We hustled out the door, gobbling cookies on the way.

After dropping Pat with her class, I dashed to the sixth grade line. Luckily, the bell hadn't rung yet, but I was panting. As usual, Audrey seemed to be by herself. The other girls are still ignoring her after being snubbed. I smirked.

The day would have been perfect, except for one thing — I'd forgotten my math homework. I lied to my teacher, saying I'd left it at home; I was given extra homework for the weekend, and had to skip afternoon recess. The plus side was my forged signature fooled her. I grinned, realizing I wasn't the only kid handing in their nearly late permission slip. Still, I waited for the dismissal bell, thinking my day couldn't be any worse.

That evening, we ate macaroni and cheese for dinner. I tried concentrating on homework, but Pat was watching cartoons, and singing at full volume. Slamming my book, I disappeared to our room. Finally, I was able to get my overdue assignments done. Still, no Mom.

The next day was our museum trip. Talking a mile a minute, we piled on to the bus, packed together. I found myself scrunched against the window next to Audrey. "I just love museums, don't you?" She jabbered, then without drawing breath, she began describing in minute detail the last museum she'd visited. I yawned, partly from boredom and lack of sleep. However, being polite, I asked Audrey about her personal life in between those long museum descriptions.

At the museum, we paired up and were allowed to explore by ourselves. Audrey and I began in the art section, with these paintings of ancient cities and people. I was simply glad to be anywhere besides boring school. I even managed to write down facts. Even so, I was distracted.

"What's with you?" Audrey asked, staring at an Egyptian painting. It was a Pharaoh's tomb, with hieroglyphics carved into it. Each one was supposed to represent a different Egyptian letter. Shrugging, I lied, blaming it on exhaustion.

The next morning, Audrey found me slouched on a wall at recess. "Want to hang out this weekend?" She began, "We could stay at your house or mine!" She plopped down, then took out an apple from her pocket. I shrugged, my mind whirling. I promised I'd think about it. By lunchtime, I'd come up with a solution — the park!

On Saturday, we did just that. It was easy taking Pat along, she was bored with TV. After introducing Pat, she ran to the jungle gym, and Audrey and I started to swing. It was fun doing kid stuff, without adult things crowding my mind. I found that the gentle back-and-forth motion relaxed me, easing the tension which had been building lately. My hands gripped the chains, my feet pumped, and the wind tickled my face. Audrey challenged me to a contest, we'd only just begun, when ... "Aahh!" Pat screamed. With the swing in mid-air, I looked up just in time to see Pat fall from the monkey bars! Dragging my feet to slow it down, I jumped off, running to my sister. Fortunately, the ground was soft, so Pat couldn't be hurt that badly. A mom and kid had come over, too, and were bending over her, very concerned. Heart pounding,I saw blood on Pat's leg. "Get her home, and clean that real good!" The mom was saying, dabbing at the cuts with a napkin. Wiping Pat's tears with my shirt, I thanked the woman. Audrey suggested we go to her house, which was nearby. Perhaps, a short visit wouldn't hurt, I reasoned. Pat's bleeding!

At Audrey's, Audrey dabbed Pat's cuts with some kind of medicine, then let her choose a band aid. Thanking her, we were about to leave, when Audrey's mother came home. "Mom, I have a friend over. This is Dee and Pat, she fell down." Audrey explained. Smiling politely, I prayed her Mom wasn't nosy.

We spent a wonderful afternoon, playing in Audrey's room. She had these museum souvenirs and books on different countries. While we read, Pat played with the figurines, stones, and other treasures. Best of all, we ate pizza in the living room. What an awesome Mom!

The next week, Audrey and I became targets for the mean girls. Notes in our desks, nearly tripping us during lunch, rocks thrown during recess. Getting tired of it, we came up with a plan to get them back. Inspired by the Egyptian writing, we invented our own. Each girl would be represented by an animal's head. Joyce had a long neck, so became a giraffe, Linda, with her bushy hair, was a lioness. Audrey and I died laughing inventing ones for the boys, too. I filled her in on Joyce's crushes last year, which had gone sour.

We put our new system into play the next day. Audrey simply placed a note on Joyce's desk, under her book. That afternoon, we heard Joyce discussing it with a friend, wondering what it could mean. "A giraffe and bird. What is this?" She was saying. We giggled, the bird was Linda's boyfriend. By the end of the third week, each girl had received one of our notes. Only we knew their true meaning. Our teacher found one, and was puzzled.

All the excitement was a distraction. Pat and I were still alone, eating what I could steal. That secret stash of soda was a godsend. Whenever I took some, I felt triumphant. This is mine. I cheered. I was careful not to "shop" at the same store more than once a week. The gas station was also a favorite place for snacks, such as cake and candy.

My luck ran out one Sunday. Leaving Pat with a friend, I went shopping, choosing the store near our house. Walking behind a mom and her noisy kids, I was able to slip by unnoticed. In front of this family, near that mother, I stole our usual items. Pausing by the Cola, I spied the partially open case, exactly where I'd left it. Snatching the remaining six, I slid them into my bag, now considerably heavier than normal. Satisfied I hadn't been seen, I casually strolled up the aisle towards the double doors.

"Hold it right there, young lady!" A man's gruff voice shouted. Calmly, I innocently looked around, but there weren't any other shoppers nearby. Glowering, the man steered me to a bench. I began babbling the story I'd rehearsed, something about Mom being in the hospital, but would be coming home soon. With a shaking hand, I unzipped my bag, exposing the goods. Wiping a tear away, I waited, expecting the police. "Young lady, I see you only stole food. I'll let you go this once. But, I expect you and your mother back here when she's well, to pay for everything. Got it?" The man's face and voice softened. Nodding sheepishly, I put on my grateful expression. Hoisting my bag back on my shoulder, I left, trying not to walk too quickly. What a lucky escape!

On our street, with the sunset colors of red, orange, and gold filling the sky, I stopped to think. I'd just got caught shoplifting, and been released. On the plus side, Pat and I had a new friend. With Mom still missing, tomorrow would be another day, just like always. Now, the million dollar question, what should I prepare for dinner?

The End