Poor White Trash

by Jane Carrington

  Poor White Trash

  by

  Jane Carrington

  Poor White Trash

  Copyright©2011 by Jane Carrington

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  The characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  povertyacrespublishing@yahoo.com

  Chapter 1

  I was already awake when my alarm clock went off. I’d slept poorly, tossing and turning with bad dreams. Excitement and dread were vying for control of the butterflies in my stomach. I rolled off the bed and wrapped up in my tattered, light blue terrycloth robe with a shiver.

  She must have turned off the heat again, I thought to myself. Mine was the last room in our long, skinny trailer and the first to get cold. I checked on my brother and sister. They were still sound asleep, their small forms snuggled close together in order to share a blanket on a sheet-less twin bed. I felt a hint of irritation as I passed my mother’s room and heard her heavy snoring. I stood at the door to take in some of the heat from the space heater next to her bed.

  It saved money, so she said, to turn off the expensive gas heat and use a space heater.

  Eventually, she assured, the heat would get to the other rooms. It never did.

  I shuffled on through the living room, snagging my toe on the long shag carpet. I hated that carpet. It must be thirty years old, a repulsive green color and stunk like mildew even when I could talk my mother into spend the two dollars for carpet freshener, and it seemed to love to snarl at the ends and snag my toes.

  I started breakfast so Kyle and Kaylie could eat before I left for school. At just two and four, they couldn’t feed themselves after I left. Who knew when our mother would be up.

  I heard a sniffle as I poured pancake batter in the frying pan. I turned to see Kaylie, sucking her thumb and wrapped in an old blanket.

  “Meagan,I hungry.”

  “I know sweetie. I’m making pancakes.”

  “I sick of pancakes.”

  I sighed. We were all sick of pancakes. I smiled and patted her on the head. “I have a surprise for you.” Her eyes lit up. Our of the side pocket of my backpack I pulled a half dozen packets of strawberry jam. The little box kind you get at restaurants with your toast. My best friend, Jake, worked part time at a small diner near the trailer park during the school year. I had stopped in to see if they needed any waitresses and while I was waiting for the manager to bring me an application, I swiped them off a table. My mouth was watering for something fruity, but when I saw her face I was glad I had saved them.

  “Three for you and three for Kyle, alright? You can put them on your pancakes and they won’t seem like pancakes at all. They’ll be strawberry clouds.”

  She nodded with a smile and climbed up in the rickety wooden chair to wait for breakfast with her thumb in her mouth. She watched my every move. I was always sure to look back at her and smile as often as I could. When Godzilla woke up, it’d be grumpsville for the rest of the day.

  After breakfast, Kyle and Kaylie begged me not to go. My mother, finally out of bed with crust in her eyes and her badly bleached hair sticking wildly in every direction, shot me a grumpy look.

  “Aw now kids, let her go get that fancy education. Meggy’s gonna be someone someday.” She snorted at me. “You could be getting’ a job and helpin’ me out. But go on. Go on. Go learn stuff you ain’t never gonna use.” She snorted again and shuffled to the kitchen, complaining that I hadn’t made coffee.

  “We’re out!” I yelled over my shoulder before grabbing my backpack and heading out the door. It was the first day of my senior year and I wasn’t going to be late.

  ­♥­

  I started looking for Jake as soon as I rounded the rusting metal corner of the trailer. The cluster of kids already waiting for the bus scrambled as a truck sped by, narrowly avoiding being splashed by the gutter water. I saw him and waved. He waved back and I couldn’t help but smile. He had been gone most of the summer visiting his grandparents and hadn’t gotten back into town until late last night.

  He took a few big steps as I approached and picked me up in a big hug. “Hey, Meg.”

  I squeezed his neck, grinning like a fool, with my feet dangling. He had grown over the summer.

  “Hey, Jake.” I had a thousand questions for him; we’d only been able to write a few letters over the summer since my mother didn’t pay the phone bill and they shut it off.

  “You look good,” we both said at the same time and then laughed.

  “You’re taller,” I said. He stood a good five inches over me now. He shrugged and his smile faded.

  “You’re thinner,” he said, looking me over.

  “Nah.”

  “How’s things been?”

  “Alright.” I shrugged back. It was then I noticed I was still holding onto the arm of his thin coat. I was so glad he was back. “Same old, same old.”

  Jake knew me, knew my family and knew my situation. We had been best friends for five years and if I were being honest, my only real friend. I wasn’t embarrassed around him. After all, I knew his situation too. And it wasn’t much better than mine.

  “How are your grandparents?”

  “Old.”

  I laughed. “It’s nice that they still want you to spend the summer with them.”

  He shrugged and looked a little guilty. “Except I’m not a little kid anymore. Sometimes they treat me like I’m still five. Like I should get all excited to go into town and get penny candy.”

  I didn’t feel sorry for him that he had a yearly escape to semi-normal grandparents who loved him.

  “Did they harass you to come live with them again?”

  “Of course. They have every year since mom took off.”

  Somewhat surprised he had mention his mother, I stayed on topic and tried to keep it cheerful.

  “I hope you told them I said hi.”

  I had never met his grandparents personally, but I felt like I knew them through Jake.

  “I did. They say hi back. I talked to grandpa a lot about you while we walked to the post office to mail your letters. You got them all, didn’t you?”

  “I got seven.”

  “I sent seven.”

  “Then I got them all.” I smiled wide, looking up at him. Despite all the changes that had taken place over the summer, mainly his increased height and widened shoulders, it was still the same Jake, smiling back at me. I almost didn’t hear the bus pull up, lost in the happiness of having my best friend back. I jumped at the loud hydraulic whoosh of the door.

  “Ladies first.”

  I sat in our usual seat on the right, three seats behind the driver and scooted over to the window. Jake sat beside me with a heaving sigh.

  “The first day of the last year,” he said with a grin.

  “Yep. Are you excited to graduate?”

  “Oh yeah. Considering we should have graduated last year.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. But we both failed the fifth grade. I’m over it. You should move on Jake.” I smiled. “Have you thought more about what you’re going to do after graduation?”

  “No.” He was quiet for a moment and looked past me out the window. “Actually, that’s a lie. I have thought about it. My grandfather suggested something and…I don’t know yet. I’m thinking.”

  “Well, are you going to share?”

  He looked uncomfortable. “The army.”

  Stunned, I sat back on the plastic seat with a thud.

  “I know, I know.” He fidgeted with the strap of his backpack between his knees. “But it wou
ld be a paycheck and three squares, not to mention college money after four years.” He looked at me with that last bit as if hoping the college part would win my approval.

  “Yeah, but Jake, the army. That’s big. What happened to penny candy and petting zoos? I mean, doesn’t your grandfather realize­”

  “I’m just thinking about it, okay? I haven’t signed up or anything.”

  He had just come back from a miserably long summer and here he was, on the first day of our last year of school together, talking about leaving again. I decided to change the subject.

  “Nice jeans,” I said, plucking at the deep blue material.

  “Thanks. My grandpa always gets me a couple pair…you know. How’s Kyle and Kaylie?” His turn to change the subject. He knew well enough that I didn’t have any new clothes.

  “They’re okay. I turned in an application at Hank’s.”

  “I’ll think about putting in a good word for ya,” he teased.

  “Well, I heard that Tamera left, so I thought he might need another waitress.”

  “Tamera left? That old goat, I thought she’d never retire.”

  “I heard something about having to take care of her parents.”

  “Well, she had to be at least, what sixty? I didn’t know her parents were still alive.”

  I shrugged, indifferent. All I cared about was a chance to work with my best friend. Between school, studying and his part time job, we spent less and less time together. No one understood me like Jake.

  Our shoulders tapped together as we crossed the train tracks to the east side of town.

  “I don’t see why they have to bus us all the way over here to snob-ville.”

  “You say that every year.”

  “I just don’t see the point. Why bus us over to the rich kid’s school. We’d fit in better at our own school. With our own kind.”

  “Our own kind?” I asked with raised eyebrows.

  “Yeah. Poor white trash.”

  “Don’t say that,” I snapped. “It’s bad enough we have to hear it from them.”

  The bus stopped and the doors opened for a group of kids from the nicer part of town. The filed on and we were invisible to them. Which was fine with me. I only wished I could stay invisible to them all year.

  After they were bored with catching up from summer, gushing over each other’s clothes and homecoming plans finalized, they would turn their attention, and their claws, toward us.

  We were quiet for a while, looking in opposite directions. Not uncomfortable silence. We didn’t have that. Just nothing to say silence.

  I moved my leg over to rest against his and enjoyed the reassurance that he was there. The bus grew louder with every stop and I was grateful to finally get to school.

  ­♥­

  Later I stood outside the lunchroom waiting for Jake. We had no classes together since he was a determined brainiac and I was average at everything. I saw him coming down the hall with a few guys from his class. Friends he only talked to casually at school. Nobody special.

  They broke off with small sack lunches and Jake put his hand on my backpack, turning me toward the lunchroom.

  “Ah, our favorite time of day.”

  “Hardly.” I rolled my eyes. I hated lunch. I felt like a walking target through the rows of well-dressed rich kids. I kept my eyes on the floor as we got in line.

  “School number,” the cashier demanded.

  “31773.”

  She glared at the computer and then at me. “Three dollars.”

  “But, I get, um…” I leaned toward her and dropped my voice. “Free lunch.”

  “No. Says here you didn’t get your application in. It was mailed to you weeks ago.”

  My face burned red. “But I thought that had to be done by the end of the second week?”

  “Not anymore honey. Rules changed. Got to have it in and approved by the first day of school. Three dollars.”

  I gripped the edge of my tray with the urge to hurl it at her when Jake stepped in.

  “I’ll get it.” He reached around me and handed the cashier a ten. “Mine and hers.”

  I followed him to our usual table in the back corner. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  We ate in silence and after a few minutes a few frightened new kids joined us. We looked safe, I suppose. They didn’t want to talk, they just didn’t want to look like losers. We nodded and they sort of half smiled back. I didn’t mind helping them out, but I couldn’t talk freely and that irritated me.

  Jake tried to make conversation but knowing me so well, he knew not to expect me to relax or give long answers with strange ears nearby. He talked mainly of his time over the summer at his grandparents. And I was happy to just listen.

  We finished eating as the bell rang and we gathered our things. “See you at the bus.”

  ­♥­

  We were almost home when Jake turned to me suddenly. “Do you ever feel like you’re out of place everywhere you go?” he asked.

  “All the time.” I looked at the rows of sad trailers, the picture of extreme poverty. “All the time, Jake.”

  “No, not just here. At school too.”

  “Well, yeah. We don’t belong there either. Bunch of spoiled rich kids running around making us the butt of their jokes.”

  “No, not just that. It’s just…dealing with them, it’s like we’re above everyone here. And we’re below everyone at school, but not really. Just in status, you know. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

  “I don’t either,” I laughed, shaking my head.

  “I just don’t feel like I belong with shallow kids who are just months from being grown up and yet they act like kindergartners. They obsess over the stupidest stuff. Stuff that doesn’t even matter.”

  “Maybe that’s it, Jake. We can’t relate. We had to grow up a long time ago.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, we did. I think you nailed it. It’s like a thirty year old having to play at junior high. It’s maddening.” He smiled down at me. “That’s why I keep you around you know. Because you’re so smart.”

  I snorted. “You’re the one in AP classes, nerd.”

  He pulled up his jeans real high, hunched his back and pushed invisible glasses up the bridge of his nose and began walking with uncoordinated determination ahead of me.

  “You dork.” I smiled at him as he turned around. Not for the first time, I thought that if it weren’t for being socially outcast for being poor, he would most likely have girls crawling all over him. I’m glad he didn’t. I wouldn’t want to have to compete for his time. He laughed and his long dark bangs fell just to the top of his eyebrow. He had hair women would kill for, thick and shiny, falling just right around his face without effort. Even when he couldn’t afford haircuts and it grew out, it was beautiful. Short or long, somehow, he made it work. He looked over at me with blue eyes rimmed in dark lashes that could be deeply mischievous or soulful, depending on the mood. I waved as I turned up the path to my place and still had a smile on my face when I opened the door.

  The smile faded quickly as I stepped inside. My mother was sitting on the couch, glued to some talk show. Kaylie sat beside her and jumped up when she saw me. She hugged my leg and yelled for Kyle, who was sleeping in the middle of the living room floor.

  “Shhh! I can’t hear this!” she yelled, turning up the volume with the remote.

  “I thought they were going to shut off the cable.” I said.

  “Yeah but they got this program where poor people can get it for cheap with high speed Internet,” she said without looking at me.

  “But we don’t have a computer.”

  “They don’t know that, now do they smarty-pants?” she sneered, and then grumbled about missing her show.

  “It would have been better to keep the phone and let the cable go,” I said as I dumped my backpack on the table.

  “So you can talk to your boyfriend all night when I need your help? Sides,
I got have something to do to pass the day.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” I rolled my eyes. “What’s for dinner?”

  She shrugged. “I went to the food bank today so there’s something in there to make.” Which meant I was making dinner.

  “Idol’s on tonight. I ain’t missin’ that.”

  “You took Kyle and Kaylie to the food bank?” It had been my hope for my brother and sister to never see the inside of that place. I wanted them to think it all came from the grocery store, every time.

  “Old Mrs. Peterson watched ‘em.”

  “Old Mrs. Peterson can’t watch her cats! She’s in a wheelchair and half blind!”

  She ignored me.

  “Look, wait until I’m home to go there, alright? I’ll watch them. Don’t leave them with anyone so old they’re practically sitting in God’s waiting room.”

  I took my backpack to my room and dumped it on my bed. Then I remembered lunch.

  “Did you get a form to fill out for my free lunch a few weeks ago?” I yelled.

  “I dunno.”

  “Well, can you look? It has to be filled out. I almost didn’t get lunch today.” I didn’t want to tell her that Jake bought my lunch, or she’d expect him to do it every day.

  I stomped out to the living room and grabbed a pile of papers next to the couch. Going through the stack of bills, disconnect notices, failure to pay, bounced check notices and general nasty grams, I found a letter from the school, unopened.

  “Here it is.” I took it to the table, filled it out myself and then took it to her for a signature. She seemed annoyed at having to take the time.

  “Ain’t nothing changed for us since last year. Don’t see why we have to go through this again.” She tossed the paper back at me.

  Nothing changed. Wasn’t that the truth. I looked around the shabby trailer. No, nothing had changed in the last five years. Since we moved here after her last divorce. Three quickly failed marriages so far, none of whom were any of our fathers. Three different fathers in between marriages for her three children was disgraceful to me. The only reason she didn’t have more is because of the emergency hysterectomy she had when she gave birth to Kyle. I think somehow she blames him for that. To her, more kids means more welfare and more child support—if they could ever find any of our fathers. So, with her income capped at state support for three children, nothing had changed and nothing would change. For her. But not for me. I would eat free lunch and deal with the humiliation of wearing second and third hand clothes. I’d ignore the teasing and bullying from the rich kids and even other poor kids who hurt so badly inside themselves that they took it out on others, because I was determined to graduate. I would go to college, somehow and my life wouldn’t stay stagnant. It wouldn’t remain in suspended animation of trailer trash poverty, fighting to survive from one day to the next. I would have better. I folded the paper and went to my room to do my homework.