Read Online Hand Me Down by Melanie Thorne - Free Book Online Page A

unpainted nails and pale fingers on the dark brown guitar frets. She says a quick prayer after fifteen minutes of songs and yields the floor to a man wearing a dark suit and a tie with a manger scene and glowing star of Bethlehem.
    He says, “How about a round of applause for our wonderful gospel team!”
    Their church is small, only a dozen or so people here today besides us, and we all sit as we clap and Deborah and her band joinus in the pews. Their pastor is taller than Pastor Ron, but he’s not as interesting to listen to as he spews a speech about sacrifice in a monotone that doesn’t seem to register that Christmas should be celebratory.
    In the row behind the adults, Matt only has eyes for his Game Boy, and Ashley, Jaime, and I play hangman on blue-lined paper I ripped from the journal that was a gift from my aunt Tammy. She said writing is a great tool for dealing with pain, but I don’t write much. I carry the book with me to keep my hands busy with doodling, and because it reminds me of her. Ashley guesses “P.” I draw a head dangling from the already penciled noose.
    Brianna starts whining and kicking the pew in front of her when she sees Dad eating her Snickers bar. “That’s my candy,” she says.
    “David,” Crystal says. “What’s wrong with you?”
    “I paid for it.” He shoves the last bit of chocolate into his mouth as Brianna starts to cry.
    Deborah elbows Dad but he just sits there, smile on his face, chewing and staring beyond the pastor to the big wooden cross mounted on the wall and the metal crown of thorns perched on top of the dark wood at a forty-five-degree angle.
    Crystal says, “Hush, baby. Listen to the preacher.”
    Jaime guesses “R” and I draw curled hair on the stick figure.
    “You always do this,” Deborah says under her breath. “Nothing is sacred to you.” Dad shrugs and Deborah crosses her arms across her chest. Brianna’s crying gets louder, shriller, and less authentic. “Fix this,” Deborah hisses.
    Dad finishes chewing and swallows. “We’ll get you anothercandy, lassie,” he says, ruffling Brianna’s hair and working his tongue to get the nougat and caramel off his teeth. Fire ignites in Brianna’s eyes and she takes big gasping breaths in between cries, gearing up for full tantrum mode.
    Ashley guesses “B” and I give our stick woman a shoe. Brianna gets so loud the pastor stops talking and whispers to Crystal, “That little girl might want to behave if she wants to stay on Santa’s nice list.”
    Brianna sobs louder. Ashley plugs her ears. Deborah covers her face with her shaking hands. “No Santa?” Brianna says, standing up, her cheeks and eyebrows quaking. “No presents?” She makes little fists, opens her mouth like a bullhorn, and screams.
    “Now this is a show,” Dad says.
    “Of course, you’ll get presents, honey,” Crystal says. “He didn’t mean that.” She squints at the pastor, but Brianna is beyond calming. She wails and stomps her white patent leather Mary Janes. She shakes her head back and forth so fast her green-and-white bow dances a jig in her flailing hair.
    Dad smacks his lips and swallows the last of the candy. “I guess church can be fun.” He swivels his head to look at us and grins. “Maybe we’ll make this a regular thing, girls.” He pats Deborah’s leg twice like that makes it official.
    Deborah glares at Dad with a rage I imagine is backed by memories of noogies, jagged haircuts, and countless other torments of the rotten older brother who became my father. She says, “Not everything is about fun, David.” She jerks her head toward the exit and says through gritted teeth, “Maybe Brianna would calm down if she got some fresh air.”
    “Y,” Jaime says. “Dysfunctional family!” I shush her and fill in the missing letters in our game. She whispers, “I got it.”
    “Damn straight,” Dad says.
    Deborah’s jaw drops. “David!”
    “Fine,” Crystal says and stands on her fat-heeled sandals