Read Online Shrimp by Rachel Cohn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Cohn
Tags: Fiction, General, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, Children's 12-Up - Fiction - General, School & Education, Adolescence, Family - General, Social Issues - Adolescence, Mothers and daughters, Stepfamilies, Family - Stepfamilies
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picture was a Goya-type painting of me drowning in a boiling cauldron of icky worm-snake creatures wrapping themselves around my flailing self. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Cyd Charisse," Iris said. She took my hand in hers. "I'm so glad you were able to come tonight. A little surprised, too. Shrimp, Wallace, and Delia all had wagers going on whether your mother would let you back into this house." Iris shouted toward Delia, who was pumping the keg. "Dee, you owe Shrimp ten bucks!"
Shrimp patted my knee like he was my grandpa--what was that about?--and hopped off the hammock. "I'll catch up with you later," he said to me. Hmmph, maternal avoidance much?
I watched Shrimp from behind--he really has such a nice ass--small and round and just pert--as he walked away to join his brother. The view of Wallace and Shrimp standing together, identical ocean-wind-whipped hair, laughing the same laugh and smiling the same smile, made me turn to Iris, their creator. She was looking at the brothers too, with that mama lioness look of pride. "Blessings on their mama," were the words floating through my head, and from Iris's big smile back at me, I realized the words had traveled from my
63
brain and out of my mouth. Iris reached over and ran her fingers through the front of my hair, like Nancy does when I let her. That simple Mommy touch helped downgrade my boiling-point temperature.
Iris said, "Do you have some room for me on that hammock?" She stood up from the tree-stump chair and wrapped the caftan edges of her long dress tight around her legs. I moved over to give her room but she said, "Oh, no, let's lie down and look at the stars. Of course, with all the pollution here you can't really see the night sky like you can in the South Pacific, but I'm betting we'll see something worthwhile."
Being fundamentally weird and prissy, I did not want to share the hammock with her, but Iris was also the mother of my manifest destiny so I figured better not offend her by suggesting she might be invading my personal space. Luckily Iris lay down in the direction opposite me so we were toe-to-head instead of head-to-head. I must admit, the gentle sway of our two bodies on the hammock was rather nice in the brisk night ocean air, and hey, those stars up there, the ones you could see through the slight fog haze, were right twinkly.
Iris said, "I'm not really a city person, but I do love San Francisco. The eucalyptus smell out here by the beach, it's almost intoxicating. And it's warm tonight, for San Francisco at least! The last time I was here, when we moved Shrimp into this house with Wallace, I had to wear a down coat to be up here on the boys' roof. And it was July!"
Next time I can corral Shrimp into a round of my Job for a Day game, I want to be a concierge at one of those fancy San Francisco hotels, as I am sure tourists would
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appreciate my knowledge of The City and its microclimates. I explained to Iris, "That's because it's fall, which in San Fran means the arrival of the summer we were denied with fog and supreme chill during July and August. September and October are the best months in The City, warm and sunny, like practically balmy. Of course, if you live in The Mission or Noe Valley you probably get to see the sun every day, but here in Ocean Beach, and lotsa times over in Pacific Heights, you can go days without seeing sun during the summer." The early fall months, warm and sunny and minus the summer tourists so ignorant they thought they could experience the California Summer Beach Boys experience in San Francisco, are my fave months in The City. This fall would be the first in three years that I had been home to enjoy it.
"I understand you spent this past August in New York. How did you like it?" Iris said. "Billy and I went there once a few years ago. We protested a G-7 economic summit. We had traffic backed up all along Park Avenue. Good times."
Mental note: Never invite Iris over to meet Sid-dad.
"New York was weird
"Cyd Charisse," Iris said. She took my hand in hers. "I'm so glad you were able to come tonight. A little surprised, too. Shrimp, Wallace, and Delia all had wagers going on whether your mother would let you back into this house." Iris shouted toward Delia, who was pumping the keg. "Dee, you owe Shrimp ten bucks!"
Shrimp patted my knee like he was my grandpa--what was that about?--and hopped off the hammock. "I'll catch up with you later," he said to me. Hmmph, maternal avoidance much?
I watched Shrimp from behind--he really has such a nice ass--small and round and just pert--as he walked away to join his brother. The view of Wallace and Shrimp standing together, identical ocean-wind-whipped hair, laughing the same laugh and smiling the same smile, made me turn to Iris, their creator. She was looking at the brothers too, with that mama lioness look of pride. "Blessings on their mama," were the words floating through my head, and from Iris's big smile back at me, I realized the words had traveled from my
63
brain and out of my mouth. Iris reached over and ran her fingers through the front of my hair, like Nancy does when I let her. That simple Mommy touch helped downgrade my boiling-point temperature.
Iris said, "Do you have some room for me on that hammock?" She stood up from the tree-stump chair and wrapped the caftan edges of her long dress tight around her legs. I moved over to give her room but she said, "Oh, no, let's lie down and look at the stars. Of course, with all the pollution here you can't really see the night sky like you can in the South Pacific, but I'm betting we'll see something worthwhile."
Being fundamentally weird and prissy, I did not want to share the hammock with her, but Iris was also the mother of my manifest destiny so I figured better not offend her by suggesting she might be invading my personal space. Luckily Iris lay down in the direction opposite me so we were toe-to-head instead of head-to-head. I must admit, the gentle sway of our two bodies on the hammock was rather nice in the brisk night ocean air, and hey, those stars up there, the ones you could see through the slight fog haze, were right twinkly.
Iris said, "I'm not really a city person, but I do love San Francisco. The eucalyptus smell out here by the beach, it's almost intoxicating. And it's warm tonight, for San Francisco at least! The last time I was here, when we moved Shrimp into this house with Wallace, I had to wear a down coat to be up here on the boys' roof. And it was July!"
Next time I can corral Shrimp into a round of my Job for a Day game, I want to be a concierge at one of those fancy San Francisco hotels, as I am sure tourists would
64
appreciate my knowledge of The City and its microclimates. I explained to Iris, "That's because it's fall, which in San Fran means the arrival of the summer we were denied with fog and supreme chill during July and August. September and October are the best months in The City, warm and sunny, like practically balmy. Of course, if you live in The Mission or Noe Valley you probably get to see the sun every day, but here in Ocean Beach, and lotsa times over in Pacific Heights, you can go days without seeing sun during the summer." The early fall months, warm and sunny and minus the summer tourists so ignorant they thought they could experience the California Summer Beach Boys experience in San Francisco, are my fave months in The City. This fall would be the first in three years that I had been home to enjoy it.
"I understand you spent this past August in New York. How did you like it?" Iris said. "Billy and I went there once a few years ago. We protested a G-7 economic summit. We had traffic backed up all along Park Avenue. Good times."
Mental note: Never invite Iris over to meet Sid-dad.
"New York was weird
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