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Fallout Page 15

by Ellen Hopkins

So I can’t let myself love her

  like a daughter should. To unlock

  myself in such a way would simply

  be an invitation to heartbreak.

  ALMOST DONE

  Feeling sorry for myself when

  a little warning chimes in my head.

  Mom is the queen of denial.

  Not her meth? Maybe not, but

  odds are

  decent she’s using again.

  Wouldn’t be the first time

  she jumped off the wagon.

  One time she came to visit so

  high

  that she didn’t realize the guy

  she was putting the moves on

  happened to be my caseworker.

  Not like we all couldn’t tell

  she

  was lit. Her sweat-sequined skin

  leaked a smell like tar remover.

  When Darla asked if she wanted

  to join us for dinner, Mom

  lied,

  claiming a bad case of fast-food

  poisoning. And when the cute

  clean-cut dude finally mentioned

  his official relationship

  to me,

  she added disgusting details

  about her fabricated illness,

  used them to make a hasty

  escape. Like anyone believed her.

  MEMORY LANE

  Is an ugly stroll. I’m working hard

  to turn the corner when Dad finally

  calls, Let’s go, girls. I can hear

  a big ol’ burger mooing my name.

  Does he have even the faintest

  idea how stupid that sounded?

  Maybe not. But evidently Kortni

  does. Burgers don’t moo, idiot.

  Idiot. Nice. This little outing should

  go well. I settle into the rotting

  backseat of Dad’s decrepit Chevy

  Impala. Stinks like cigarette-

  tainted armpit drip. Reminds

  me again of Mom. How can

  she ruin every holiday (even

  the ones that don’t feel much

  like holidays) without even being

  there? Why can’t I just forget her?

  BUT SHE’S ON MY MIND

  As Dad weaves down the rutted

  dirt toward the highway, Kortni

  chattering like an irritated crow.

  Unusual, considering the amount

  of beer they’ve apparently consumed

  since breakfast. The smell of cheap

  brew, mixed with stale tobacco,

  gags me slightly. “Uh, Dad.

  You sure you’re good to drive?”

  Damn straight. Why wouldn’t

  I be? As if to prove he’s too

  damn straight, he pulls out

  a joint, hands it to Kortni.

  Light that, would ya, babe?

  Gotta keep my eyes on the road.

  Just perfect. Can I get high

  from secondhand pot smoke?

  “Uh, Dad? My asthma?”

  Kortni torches the blunt

  anyway. We’ll just open all

  the windows. You’ll be okay.

  They’re smoking. I’m steaming,

  despite the fact that it’s pretty

  damn cold, moving freeway-speed

  with all the windows dropped.

  Whatever. Usually I don’t think

  much about Kortni at all.

  Right now I’m thinking how

  much she resembles a Pekingese,

  double-inhaling pot smoke

  up her smashed-in nose, snorting

  a little with each exhale. I bet

  she’s one hellacious snorer.

  As Dad’s girlfriends go, I guess

  she isn’t the worst. Not that I’ve met

  them all, or wanted to. A couple

  were prettier on the outside, evil

  ugly inside. Zoe tops that list. Not

  sure exactly where that puts Mom.

  Old pictures I’ve seen at Grandma

  and Grandpa Haskins’s house prove

  Kristina’s exterior was stunning once

  upon a time, in a land before crystal

  meth. Amazing how fast that drug

  can age you. It’s a zombie, sucking

  youth right out of you, lifeblood.

  Then again, if she hadn’t fallen

  into that lifestyle, she wouldn’t have

  met Dad at all. And then there

  wouldn’t be me. A perverse question

  bubbles up. Perverse, because I know

  it’s going to bug Kortni. Like wheezy

  me cares. “So, Dad. How exactly

  did you and Mom meet?” We’ve never

  discussed it. And he doesn’t

  really want to now. Um. Why?

  You writing an autobiography?

  Big word. Wrong word, but big.

  “No. That would be your memoir,

  not mine. I just want to know is all.”

  Oh. Here’s our exit. We’ll talk

  about it later, okay? Saved by

  Carrows. Lucky Dad. For now.

  HOLY CRAP

  Can’t believe this place is so crowded.

  Must have been a whole herd of mooing

  Thanksgiving burgers. We have to wait

  outside for almost a half hour.

  Dad and Kortni smoke. Regular

  cigarettes, thank God. I move upwind,

  stand off to one side. Don’t want to

  think any more about Mom right now.

  So I’ll think about Kyle instead.

  I’d rather be spending today with

  him, think he probably wishes

  the same. Poor guy. Dysfunction

  pretty much defines his family

  too. His mom died eight years

  ago, a DUI fatality. “DUI” meaning

  “diving under the influence” into

  a fast-running but shallow section

  of the Kern River. The coroner

  ruled it an accident, but Kyle

  believes the act was purposeful.

  Sick of Dad’s shit, he called it.

  The bitch went and left us alone

  with him. Just goes to show

  how little she cared about us.

  “Us,” meaning him and his sister,

  Sadie. Deserted by their mother.

  Left with an alcoholic father

  and his own string of girlfriends.

  Probably why Kyle and I are

  so good together. The old

  saying, “takes one to know

  one,” definitely applies to us.

  I’ve got a saying of my own:

  “Takes one to love one.” Mom

  told me something like that once.

  The topic of discussion was Ron,

  who had just left bruises on

  three-year-old Donald. I was

  on a rant. “How come all the men

  in your life have been losers?” I asked.

  She barely reacted to the word

  “loser.” I could never have

  a relationship with someone

  who didn’t understand addiction.

  Nice phrasing. Translation:

  She could never be with a guy

  who wasn’t an addict himself.

  No wonder she can’t stay clean.

  THERE I GO AGAIN

  Thinking about Mom. I have so

  got to stop that! Think about Kyle.

  Think about Kyle. Think about …

  The door opens and a senior-

  citizen-type hostess chirps,

  Kenwood, party of three.

  Not sure you could call us a party.

  Then again, Dad is pretty much

  a walking, talking party all by himself.

  There it is, he says, opening

  the menu. The Mile-High Burger.

  My mouth is watering alr
eady.

  He orders the cholesterol-

  ridden nightmare, plus a beer.

  Kortni dittoes. I go for the Mile-

  High Turkey Stack. Hey, it’s got

  the requisite (for me, anyway)

  poultry, plus some vegetable matter,

  on a flaky croissant. Homage

  to the day! The beer arrives.

  Disappears. A second round

  comes before the waitress can

  deliver our meal. Dad slams

  that one too. By the time

  our Mile-High feast hits the table,

  he’s barely coherent enough to

  order another one. “Dad,” I warn,

  “I know we’re celebrating and

  everything, but maybe you’d

  better slow down a little.”

  Before he can argue, Kortni

  jumps to his defense. He’s fine.

  And anyway, you’re not his mother.

  If I were Kyle, I’d simply blow.

  Being Summer, I’ll choose

  a more covert route to revenge.

  In silence, I pick at my sandwich,

  watching Dad and Kortni wolf

  theirs down and chase them

  with even more beer. I wait until

  their mouths are full, then venture,

  “So, Dad. Tell me how you met Mom.”

  HE MANAGES NOT TO CHOKE

  But just barely. Kortni shoots

  evil eye arrows. Touché, bitch.

  Well, uh …, he beer-sputters.

  You know how we met, right?

  “Haven’t a clue. Neither of you

  has ever really talked about it.”

  Why does he need to discuss this

  now? Kortni tries to interfere.

  I look her dead in the eye. “This is not

  your business. I want to know.”

  S’all right, slurs Dad. Why not?

  This is as good a time as any.

  Remember I tol’ you ’bout my old

  buddy Trey? Well, he was married

  to your mom at the time, and they

  had a little girl. Autumn. Pretty thing.

  I used to take care of her while

  Kristina worked. After Trey moved

  out, of course. Always kind of felt

  bad about her coming between us.

  “Wait!” Hunter, me, Donald, David …

  “Are you saying Mom has another daughter?

  And what do you mean, ‘coming

  between us’? Coming between who?”

  Me and Trey. See, I was just

  supposed to stay a few days.

  But God. It was a bottomless

  party, crystal 24-7. Hard to walk

  away from that. And you know

  the crystal scene. Shit makes you

  horny as hell. Everyone screwing

  everyone. Only when me and Kristina

  hooked up, we had chemistry.

  Thought for sure it was love, but

  you think all kinds of crazy shit

  when you’re tweaking. Trey came

  home from a score and found us

  mid-dirty. And that’s pretty much

  how I met your mom and lost

  my best friend. Now can I eat?

  HE WOLFS

  The rest of his burger, and since

  I’m no longer hungry, I push

  my plate across the table, watch

  him finish my Thanksgiving dinner.

  “Can we please go now?”

  He doesn’t seem to understand

  (or maybe just doesn’t care) how

  this disclosure (yes, I asked for it)

  has rocked me. Torpedoed me.

  Can I please finish my beer first?

  I don’t look at him or Kortni

  as I consider what this means

  to me. Why didn’t anyone ever

  tell me I have a sister somewhere?

  Mom never once mentioned her.

  And then there’s the whole part

  about how my dad pretty much

  broke up her marriage. Yeah,

  the drug scene didn’t help, but

  how do you just waltz right in and …

  Oh. My. God. Not only did Dad

  waltz right in and break up a marriage,

  but Mom waltzed away with him, broke

  up a best friendship. I am my mother.

  And that is something I just can’t be.

  I WAIT IN THE CAR

  While Dad pays the bill, sunk

  very low in the not-plush seat,

  digesting. Not food. Information.

  Revelation.

  Dad sways a bit. Kortni props

  him, but she’s not in great shape

  herself. They look like cartoon drunks.

  Caricatures.

  Neither of them should take the wheel.

  But even if I knew how to drive,

  Dad would not admit inebriation.

  Impairment.

  No one speaks as he starts the car,

  backs up, barely missing the truck

  behind him. In my belly, knots of worry.

  Apprehension.

  The knots clench as we weave toward

  the on-ramp. Not far, the windows

  swirl with red and blue lights.

  Spotlights.

  Hunter

  DAMN COLD

  For the first weekend in December

  the temperature has trouble climbing

  to thirty degrees, and the mountains

  look like sugar donuts beneath early snow.

  I’m up at first light and off to announce

  the Sparks Hometowne Christmas Parade.

  As I leave, I hear Nikki’s heavy breathing.

  Fast asleep, despite my noise. You’ve seen

  one parade, you’ve seen them all, she said

  last night, when I asked her to come along.

  Sleeping in sounds better. Anyway, you’ll

  be the star. You won’t have time for me.

  Okay, that part is mostly true. When you’re busy

  playing celebrity, you don’t have much time

  for your tag-along girlfriend. Still, I want her to

  be there. I lie down beside her, kiss the warm

  pulse at the hollow of her neck. It’s enough

  to stir her from dreams. Enough to make me

  wish I could stay. “Sure you won’t change

  your mind?” I slide my hand beneath the ginger-

  scented blankets, find the satin skin of her thigh,

  seduce her into that perfect state of not-quite-all-

  the-way-awake. “I want you to be there with

  me. You’re my good-luck charm, you know.”

  Nik smiles. Bet you say that to all the girls.

  Now let me go back to sleep. Love you.

  “Love you, too.” My hand doesn’t want

  to go. But the rest of me has to, so it tags

  along. “If you decide to come see Santa,

  you know where to find me.” But her breathing

  tells me she’s already most of the way back

  to dreamland. Wonder who’s waiting for her there.

  CHARMLESS

  It takes forever to find parking,

  despite the early hour. The main

  drag is cordoned off, leaving

  Victorian Avenue car-less except

  for the ones soon to be parading.

  I park in the Nugget Casino

  garage, walk several blocks

  to the corner where Montana

  and I will announce equestrian

  teams, bands, and local dignitaries,

  shivering as they wave from

  the decks of classic convertibles.

  The Shriners will drive funny

  little cars and unicycles. Civic

  groups will flaunt tractor-pulled

  floats. Scout troops will march

&n
bsp; in formation, the university

  cheerleaders will cartwheel,

  clowns will throw candy. And,

  bringing up the rear, Santa and

  his missus will arrive in a horse-

  pulled sleigh so the kids will

  know Christmas is coming and

  the malls will be open overtime.

  Nikki’s right. Totally predictable.

  PREDICTABLE OR NOT

  I’ve always kind

  of enjoyed the whole

  “it’s beginning to look

  a lot like Christmas”

  spiel. The parade

  serves as a kickoff

  to a month of “loving

  each other so Santa will

  come” kind of feelings.

  Christmas should be

  all year. Only, then

  we’d go broke. Never

  mind. Actually, this year

  I have a little spending

  cash. Think I’ll get

  Nikki something

  really special. Jewelry,

  maybe. Or better (for me),

  lingerie. Maybe I’ll ask

  Montana’s opinion.

  There she is, setting up

  the mics. Women who

  aren’t afraid of work rock.

  Especially when it would

  be my work otherwise.

  THE PARADE BEGINS

  At ten on the dot. I’ve been

  practicing my announcer banter.

  “Here comes the Reed High School

  Marching Band, Montana. As

  Ambassadors of the city of Sparks,

  the band has traveled throughout

  the U.S., as well as to England and

  Ireland.” Montana waits for the din

  of the trumpets to dim before

  saying, Speaking of Ambassadors,

  Hunter, here comes the Reno Rodeo

  Flag Girls Drill Team, which represents

  Reno Rodeo year-round at events

  and drill team competitions. Each year

  some one hundred girls try out for fifteen …

  And so it goes for well over an hour.

  Despite the frigid temps, the bundled-

  up crowd is as large as I’ve ever seen it.

  The most amazing thing is that young,

  old, or somewhere in between, when

  I say something, they actually listen to

  me.

  SEE, WHEN I WAS A KID

  I was not what you’d call

  popular. The truth is, other

  kids picked on me.

  Bullied

  me, to the point where

  I started to defend myself

  before the fact. I’m not

  sure why they

 

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