You May Already Be a Winner

by Ann Dee Ellis

  She says, “Can we do it? Can we do it just us girls?”

  And I say, “We can, Mom. We can.”

  Or she says: “You know I love you. I love you so much.”

  And I say: “I know.”

  Or she says, “We don’t have any milk and I don’t get paid for three more days,” and I say, “We don’t need any,” and she says, “We don’t?” and I say, “We can just eat toast.”

  And she always says, “You’re my one, Livy. I could never do this without you.”

  And I say . . .

  ~

  I say . . .

  ~

  I say, “Me too.”

  And that’s the truth.

  Even if she’s been different since he left. Even if things are not how they were. Even if she’s gone all the time. My mom, she’s the best person I know.

  I tell her that. I tell her and then I can’t help it, then I start to cry and she holds me tight and we can do it. We can do it just us girls.

  One day I was watching Berk playing with her friends and not waiting for Bart when Carlene came out of her trailer in flip-flops and her purse she got from Santa’s secret shop at school one year, which I helped pick out, and I thought maybe she was going to the pharmacy to buy a People magazine but instead she walked on over to me.

  Like it was normal.

  Like she used to do all the time.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey,” I said. Keeping it cool. “You want to sit down?”

  She came up. Sat on the railing next to me.

  “What ya doin’?” she asked.

  I don’t know why I was so nervous because who cares. But I kept shaking and my hands were sweating.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  She nodded. “Me either. I’m so bored.”

  “Yeah,” I said back.

  Then she said, “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “My dad got in the Monster Jam up at West Jordan.”

  I gasped. Her dad, Chip, has a really nice truck that he’s been working on for forever and my dad helped him all the time and even ended up doing the paint job, and he did a good job, I think. It’s got green slime coming out of a leopard’s mouth and says Mama’s Nightmare on the side.

  “He got in?” I really felt so excited.

  She smiled. “It happened last night. He qualified and he did better than he’s ever done.”

  “Oh my gosh,” I said, laughing. “That’s so cool.”

  It felt normal to be talking like this. Like everything was normal. I couldn’t count the hours we sat around watching our dads work on that thing.

  A car came by and it was Paul the MMA fighter who I still hadn’t asked for martial arts moves and I said, “Watch out for cars,” to Berk and them because Paul is a bad driver.

  Then I said to Carlene, “Is he going to win?”

  She picked at her fingernails, which were bright pink with snowflakes.

  “Probably. And if he does, we’re all going to Vegas. Even Lala.”

  Lala was Carlene’s cousin who lived with her sometimes and sometimes didn’t live with her. She has good hair.

  I said, “Wow.”

  Carlene said, “I could maybe take you.”

  I almost choked on nothing. “Really?” I said, trying to keep my voice regular.

  She shrugged. “Probably. My dad said it would be a huge party and we could invite anyone.”

  “Even me?” I said.

  “Sure,” she said.

  I hoped she was serious. I hope hope hoped she was serious. I wondered if Tandi would say it was okay. Or if Mom would.

  It used to be that sometimes I went with Carlene and her family places, before everything happened with Dad.

  Chip could be nice. He always has sunflower seeds and he and my dad would go fishing. Or go to demolition derbys or work on their cars.

  He did yell a lot, though.

  And her stepmom, Tandi, used to be Mom’s best friend. They both worked at Merry Maids and they would help each other finish jobs. She came over all the time and sat on our counter and drank Diet Coke with Mom and on the weekends they’d color everyone’s hair. Once Tandi did mine blond and Dad, when he got home that night, he said I looked like a siren.

  I laughed when he said that. “Like a siren?” I didn’t even know what that was and I told him that.

  “It’s somebody who traps boys,” Dad said. “Isn’t that right, LeAnn?”

  Mom didn’t say anything but it seemed like maybe this was from another fight. Sometimes they had fights that lasted weeks and weeks.

  “LeAnn,” Dad said, “isn’t that right?”

  She brought over the Hot Pockets and Berk came and sat down and he said, “Did you hear me?” And Mom, she said, “I heard you.”

  And he said, “So why don’t you answer me?”

  She shook her head. “Can we just eat?”

  Dad stared at her and we all sat there and he said, “Your mom’s just mad because she couldn’t trap anyone even if she wanted to.”

  Mom didn’t look at him and I didn’t either and Berkeley was too little.

  Finally, he picked up a Hot Pocket and took a big old bite, so then we could eat, too.

  No one talked the rest of the night and the next day she and Tandi dyed my hair back to brown and Tandi kept saying things to Mom like, “He’s a jerk. You know that, right? You don’t have to put up with it,” and Mom kept saying, “Shhhhusssh.” And I know it was because I was right there.

  So anyway, our families were close. We sometimes, all of us, including Mom and Dad and Berk, would go camping up Rock Canyon or at the reservoir. And sometimes just I would go with Carlene’s family on trips. We once even stayed in Carlene’s grandma’s RV for a week and went to Lagoon and I went on the Colossal roller coaster thirty-six times and Carlene and I slept on the bunk above the driver and ate Skittles all night long.

  ~

  Then everything changed.

  ~

  They always change.

  Except right then, Carlene was saying maybe I could come to Las Vegas.

  I took a breath, and said a small prayer, which I sometimes do. Then I said, “When is the Monster Jam?”

  “Like August.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That would be fun. What day in August?”

  She shrugged. “The Monster Jam in West Jordan is in June.”

  “Oh,” I said. What day what day what day.

  Then Tandi yelled for her.

  “I have to go.” And she went inside.

  ~

  That night I convinced Mom to stop at the library on the way to the store.

  She didn’t want to but I said, “It will take me five minutes.”

  So she said, “Fine.”

  I ran in. Got on a computer and found out.

  West Jordan Monster Jam: June 24.

  Las Vegas Monster Jam: August 3.

  It only took five minutes but then, when I got in the car, I realized I’d forgotten to look up Steve Fossett, which ruined my mood but only a little.

  ..............

  Dear Dad,

  I’m going to Las Vegas! Mom said it’s a good idea and it’s with Carlene’s family because Chip might qualify for the regionals!!!!!! In the truck!!!!! I’m not sure where we’re staying but probably in one of the nice casinos like the Paris or MGM Grand. I can see if they can get an extra room if you want to meet us there or maybe we could pick you up. I bet Chip would want to see you. And Tandi.

  I looked it up in our map book and Bryce is only an hour away from the freeway we’ll be driving. You could come to the exit or something. Or maybe they could drop me off at the exit and I could come with you for a little bit. Or we could follow them in your car.

  W
hat kind of car do you have now?

  We still have the Pontiac.

  Okay.

  Or you could call Chip yourself. Do you want to call him or should I ask? Just let me know. I know you’re busy so if you can’t it’s okay. It’s in August. I’ll let you know more soon.

  Also, that boy Bart has died. He was eaten by a cougar.

  I’m going to send this in the mail because the computer is broken. I’ll just address it to Bryce National Park Ranger Station? I hope you get it.

  Love,

  Liv

  P.S. Maybe they have an award for the best paint job on the truck and you’d get a medal or something!!!!!!!

  ..............

  The next time I saw Carlene I was hoping things would be like last time and we could talk more about the Monster Jam and maybe I could have Chip call Dad.

  But instead she was with her new best friend Bonnie.

  She got Bonnie when we started at middle school because you meet new people there from all over the city not just our dumb-bum neighborhood.

  Bonnie doesn’t really talk to me or live anywhere near us, according to her.

  “We live on Pleasantview.”

  “Where’s Pleasantview?” I asked.

  They both looked at each other and started giggling.

  I tried not to feel dumb because maybe it was funny.

  Then I said, “It sounds nice. Pleasant view.”

  Bonnie rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t even mean that—we don’t have a view of anything. It’s just a neighborhood. And we have an actual YARD at my house.”

  Carlene turned red.

  “We have yards,” I said, because we did. Each trailer had a square of grass or cement and some had back squares, too. And one trailer, in the corner where the Carters used to live, it had enough space for the tramp, which was pretty big if you asked me.

  “These are not yards, huh, Carlene,” Bonnie said.

  Carlene was now bright red.

  I waited for her to say something. To say they were real yards. That Earl Bowen had a sign that said KEEP OUT OF YARD and how could you have that if you didn’t have a yard? And how Barbara Banks, who is now dead but still, how she won best landscaping by the Home Owners Association because she grew hollyhocks and had pinwheels and gnomes all over the place. I waited for her to tell Bonnie that she didn’t know what she was talking about.

  I waited and waited and waited.

  I waited so long I thought Bonnie’s face would fall off but then, finally, after fifty-five years, finally all quiet, Carlene said, “Not real yards.”

  Not real yards?

  She wouldn’t look at me and I wouldn’t look at me either if I were her.

  I was about to get up my courage to say something. To say you both are wrong. And this is a fine place to live and shut your faces. I was about to say something like that but then Bonnie said, “So why did your dad leave?”

  Just then a gigantic black mamba fell on Bonnie’s head.

  She screamed.

  Carlene screamed.

  I said, “Don’t move! Don’t move!”

  But Bonnie didn’t listen. She was jumping up and down and throwing her arms all over the place and the big fat black mamba opened its big fat black mouth and bam, bit her right in the forehead.

  This was very sad because black mambas are the most venomous snakes in the whole world. Native to Africa, this one was probably an illegal pet to the man with the buzz cut who moved into the pink trailer with the motorcycle who I haven’t met yet. Most people don’t realize that you’re a goner if a mamba gets its teeth into you.

  Bonnie fell to the ground.

  Carlene was still screaming and though some would think I should have helped Bonnie, I knew better. Her face was already bloating and she was turning purple. She was a goner. RIP.

  So instead of Bonnie, I jumped for the snake, barely grabbing his tail before it slithered off into the bushes and had babies and infested the entire neighborhood.

  We wrestled for a bit and he gave me a gigantic fight and people came out on their porches. And some were crying and others were yelling to call animal control and even more were saying, “Is that Olivia?”

  Yes, it was me. It was me. Just me.

  And even as the jaws of the deadly animal were about to bite my butt off, even then, I maintained my composure, kept the thing at arm’s length and managed to contain it in a soon-to-be-recycled Tang jug.

  Everyone cheered.

  Bonnie was dead.

  And Carlene came and hugged me.

  Bonnie stared.

  “What’s wrong with you,” she said.

  I said.

  I said . . . I tried to say something.

  “Do you have a mental disorder?”

  I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  Then she said, “Lala said your dad is a LOSER and that he just took off and that he made a bunch of people mad.”

  A LOSER.

  I looked at Carlene who was looking at her hands. I had never heard her or Lala say anything like that.

  I thought I was going to throw up and I probably was going to.

  When Dad left, everyone was nice to us, and Tandi got us a gift card for Dominos and came over, and Mom cried and I said, “He said he’d be back. He’s just gone for a bit.”

  But Mom kept crying and Tandi said, “Go on to your room, honey.”

  A LOSER.

  I looked back at Bonnie who had bad breath and I said, “He’s coming back. He’s in Bryce Canyon is all. He’s coming back.”

  Bonnie blew a bubble and popped it. Then she said, “Is that where his girlfriend lives?”

  “His girlfriend?” I looked at Carlene.

  She wouldn’t look at me.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Now Bonnie was looking at Carlene, too. “She doesn’t know?”

  Carlene said, “Lala was just being stupid. She makes stuff up.”

  My heart was pounding. What did Lala say? What was going on?

  “That’s not what you said yesterday,” Bonnie said.

  We both waited as Carlene did nothing but pick at her fingers and then cough. And cough and cough.

  Finally, I said, “He doesn’t have a stupid girlfriend. He just went away for a job and he’s coming home.”

  Bonnie nudged Carlene. “Tell her what Lala was saying.”

  I looked at Carlene. “What was Lala saying?”

  Carlene was bright red now. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  But Bonnie kept going, she said, “Lala said your dad was trashy. She said your dad was trashy trashy trashy.”

  Carlene looked at me and I was trying not to cry. I was trying not to do anything.

  “And gross,” she said.

  Bonnie looked almost happy that she was saying all this. That she thought she knew something that I didn’t and I didn’t even know Bonnie so why did she care? And my dad didn’t have a girlfriend.

  He was my dad.

  He was married.

  To my mom.

  And he went to Bryce Canyon.

  He was in Bryce Canyon.

  By himself.

  Bonnie started to say something. I don’t even know what because before she could get out a word, Carlene said, “Shut up, Bonnie.”

  Just like that.

  Shut up, you dumb-bum Bonnie.

  ~

  Bonnie looked stunned and I was kind of surprised, too, because Carlene didn’t usually say things like shut up. Carlene had sweat beads on her forehead and she was breathing through her nose.

  Bonnie’s face turned hard, like you could see her eyes get black and she said, “You shut up.”

  She stood up.

  So then Carlene stood up.

  �
��This place sucks,” Bonnie said.

  And Carlene said, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  And Bonnie said, “I knew I shouldn’t have come here. It gives me the creeps.”

  And Carlene said, “I’m so sorry.”

  And she said, “I’m calling my mom.”

  And Carlene said, “We have Ding Dongs. Do you want a Ding Dong?”

  Bonnie ignored her. She stalked into Carlene’s house with Carlene begging her not to leave.

  I sat there.

  A girlfriend?

  Did he have a girlfriend?

  Was he trashy?

  And gross? What did that even mean?

  I took a breath.

  He was not trashy and this is what was happening to me in the middle of Saturday and Berkeley and Mom were on errands and I was alone and Dad was in Bryce Canyon.

  ~

  Please, Dad. Be in Bryce Canyon. Riding around on horses. Going on hikes. Helping people.

  Please don’t be gone because you’re trashy and gross.

  ~

  And a loser.

  When Mom and Berk got home that night, Mom was tired.

  Berkeley wanted me to read to her and Mom said, “I’m going to bed.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  I’d been waiting all day.

  Waiting and waiting and waiting.

  She looked at me. “Is something wrong?”

  Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

  I’d been planning it. What I’d say.

  Is Dad gone for good?

  Does he love someone else?

  Is he trashy and gross?

  Is he a loser?

  She had purple rings under her eyes.

  She and Berkeley had gotten thirty-six dollars at the recycling center from cans me and Berk had collected from around the trailer court and over at the KOA. They’d gone to five different stores because of coupons and Mom had a fight with the car repairman. “Mom yelled at him,” Berk said.

  And Mom said, “I did not yell at him.”

  And Berkeley said, “He told you to stop yelling at him.”

  And Mom sighed. “I guess I got mad.”

  So she yelled at a car repairman.

  “What’s wrong,” she asked me.

  She looked like bones. Just bones.