seethe with anger. “I mean, what gives her the right , Elaine?”
“She’s a total cow. Don’t let her get to you,” Elaine advises. I’ve been talking about Ms. Gillybush since lunchtime, and Elaine is holding up pretty well. By this point, most people would have said just get over it already. Mark wouldn’t even have made it through awhole lunch period. Not Elaine, she nods sympathetically and says the sort of things a best friend should say. Things like, “what a witch” and “she’s completely insane.”
“I tell you, she has it in for me,” I gripe, staring out the window.
“Forget her. She’s not even worth it.”
“Easy for you to say, you’ve got Mr. Brandt for English. He’s cool.”
“Yeah, he is cool. Kinda cute, too.” She giggles.
“Elaine, that’s gross! He’s old!”
“He’s not old. He’s like twenty-eight. My cousin Eugene is twenty-six, and we’re totally on the same level. So age really doesn’t mean anything. Anyway, it’s not like I would do anything about it. I just think he’s kinda cute.”
“What about Hugh?”
“I think he might like me.”
“Duh. Do you like him?”
Elaine shrugs. “I don’t know. I’d go out with him, though.”
“Hadley Smith’ll wet her pants.”
The thought leaves a smile on my face the whole ride home.
When we get off the bus, Mark walks with TommyMalone and they don’t wait for me. I walk extra slow so I can pretend that I’m taking my time on purpose, so it doesn’t look like I’m trailing after them. Which I am, but it’s not like I can help it, seeing as how we’re all walking in the same direction.
chapter 15
I’m in my room doing math homework when I hear the car pull into the driveway. I keep working on problem number thirteen until I hear Mama call, “Girls, your daddy’s home.”
Daddy is the district manager of a sales company. There’s an office about thirty miles north of Clementon, but the main office is in Atlanta. He used to have to travel all over, but now that he’s district manager, on his way up to becoming regional manager, he’s mostly in Atlanta. But sometimes South Carolina, Alabama, Tennessee, and Florida, if he’s lucky. I don’t know what Daddy sells exactly, but he sells a whole lot of something lately because these days, he’s hardly ever home.
When we were little and Daddy came home, it felt like Christmas. He would stand at the foot of the stairwell andbellow, “Where are my girls?” And Celia and I would come running just as fast as we could. We ran so fast the house would shake. And he would take each of us under an arm and throw us around until we were dizzy. Mama would say, “Be careful, Billy!” and we’d just laugh and laugh. Then Daddy’d pretend he’d forgotten to bring us presents, and we’d have to rifle through his suitcase until we found what we were looking for. Perfume for Celia, maybe a yo-yo for me. Hotel soap and a shower cap, if he hadn’t had time to buy anything. It’s not like that anymore. He still brings presents, but it doesn’t really feel like Christmas.
When Daddy is home, we make more of an effort to be “a real family.” It’s like, Daddy’s home, let’s pretend like we are the family we should be. Let’s go to church on Sunday; let’s go to the diner for dessert; let’s go to the movies and buy popcorn with extra butter. When we’re all together nobody mentions how Daddy’s away more than he is home, or how the gaps in between are getting bigger and bigger. A lot of the time, the Wilcox family feels like make-believe.
Celia never wants to go anywhere with us anyhow. She’s too busy running around town with her way-cool friends. She’d rather be with them than us, not that I really blame her.
But I do miss her.
I head downstairs to say hello to Daddy, and Celia doesn’teven bother to come out of her room. Mama’s cooked a real supper—steak and cauliflower and bread pudding. She’s turning the steaks and Daddy’s
“She’s a total cow. Don’t let her get to you,” Elaine advises. I’ve been talking about Ms. Gillybush since lunchtime, and Elaine is holding up pretty well. By this point, most people would have said just get over it already. Mark wouldn’t even have made it through awhole lunch period. Not Elaine, she nods sympathetically and says the sort of things a best friend should say. Things like, “what a witch” and “she’s completely insane.”
“I tell you, she has it in for me,” I gripe, staring out the window.
“Forget her. She’s not even worth it.”
“Easy for you to say, you’ve got Mr. Brandt for English. He’s cool.”
“Yeah, he is cool. Kinda cute, too.” She giggles.
“Elaine, that’s gross! He’s old!”
“He’s not old. He’s like twenty-eight. My cousin Eugene is twenty-six, and we’re totally on the same level. So age really doesn’t mean anything. Anyway, it’s not like I would do anything about it. I just think he’s kinda cute.”
“What about Hugh?”
“I think he might like me.”
“Duh. Do you like him?”
Elaine shrugs. “I don’t know. I’d go out with him, though.”
“Hadley Smith’ll wet her pants.”
The thought leaves a smile on my face the whole ride home.
When we get off the bus, Mark walks with TommyMalone and they don’t wait for me. I walk extra slow so I can pretend that I’m taking my time on purpose, so it doesn’t look like I’m trailing after them. Which I am, but it’s not like I can help it, seeing as how we’re all walking in the same direction.
chapter 15
I’m in my room doing math homework when I hear the car pull into the driveway. I keep working on problem number thirteen until I hear Mama call, “Girls, your daddy’s home.”
Daddy is the district manager of a sales company. There’s an office about thirty miles north of Clementon, but the main office is in Atlanta. He used to have to travel all over, but now that he’s district manager, on his way up to becoming regional manager, he’s mostly in Atlanta. But sometimes South Carolina, Alabama, Tennessee, and Florida, if he’s lucky. I don’t know what Daddy sells exactly, but he sells a whole lot of something lately because these days, he’s hardly ever home.
When we were little and Daddy came home, it felt like Christmas. He would stand at the foot of the stairwell andbellow, “Where are my girls?” And Celia and I would come running just as fast as we could. We ran so fast the house would shake. And he would take each of us under an arm and throw us around until we were dizzy. Mama would say, “Be careful, Billy!” and we’d just laugh and laugh. Then Daddy’d pretend he’d forgotten to bring us presents, and we’d have to rifle through his suitcase until we found what we were looking for. Perfume for Celia, maybe a yo-yo for me. Hotel soap and a shower cap, if he hadn’t had time to buy anything. It’s not like that anymore. He still brings presents, but it doesn’t really feel like Christmas.
When Daddy is home, we make more of an effort to be “a real family.” It’s like, Daddy’s home, let’s pretend like we are the family we should be. Let’s go to church on Sunday; let’s go to the diner for dessert; let’s go to the movies and buy popcorn with extra butter. When we’re all together nobody mentions how Daddy’s away more than he is home, or how the gaps in between are getting bigger and bigger. A lot of the time, the Wilcox family feels like make-believe.
Celia never wants to go anywhere with us anyhow. She’s too busy running around town with her way-cool friends. She’d rather be with them than us, not that I really blame her.
But I do miss her.
I head downstairs to say hello to Daddy, and Celia doesn’teven bother to come out of her room. Mama’s cooked a real supper—steak and cauliflower and bread pudding. She’s turning the steaks and Daddy’s
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