Read Online The Murderer's Daughters by Randy Susan Meyers - Free Book Online
Authors: Randy Susan Meyers
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doesn’t look so cute today?”
Curls from my ponytail lay scattered on my pillow. My hands twitched. I wanted to run to the mirror, but I wouldn’t give Reetha that satisfaction. Instead, I snatched a thick hardcover book, the largest I could find, from Olive’s shelf and ran over to Reetha’s bed. Her pajamas looked like a boy’s, and she smelled like she never washed down there.
I grabbed the book with both hands, lifted it over my head as high as possible, and slammed it down on Reetha’s head.
“Ugly skank.” I hit her again, aiming straight at her forehead scars.
Reetha rolled over and kicked me in the stomach. “Stuck-up Jew-girl.”
“Stop it,” Olive warned. “Someone’s coming.”
I ran back to my bed and leapt in, clutching Olive’s book in my trembling arms.
Our housemother walked in. “What’s going on?” She inspected us bed by bed. “Merry, what happened to your hair?”
I bit down on my lip. “I cut it,” I said.
I faced the wall, tracing a doggy face on the dirty beige paint with my finger. Circle, circle, circle, tongue. Floppy ears. Everyone was in church. I pulled the stretchy headband Janine had lent me tighter, lower around my ears, pretending no one could notice how ugly I looked. Strings of long hair mixed with short curls sticking out like loose wires. The housemother said I’d have to get a pixie cut, which made you look like a boy. When theweekday housemother for the older girls, the one who took care of haircuts, came tomorrow she’d finish Reetha’s job. I kicked the wall.
As soon as all the girls had left for church, I’d torn up my father’s letters and flushed them down the toilet. My hiding place had turned out to be useless. I walked my feet up and down the wall. Quietly. Because if Mrs. Parker-Peckerhead came in and found me doing it, she’d make me wash the wall down with the brown disinfectant that practically left holes in your hands.
You think people want to see your footprints on the wall, Meredith?
Mrs. Peckerhead would say as she handed me the scrub brush stuck in a pail of soapy water. When she made me move my bed from the wall and saw the real mess, she’d really punish me.
Look at this,
she’d yell.
Candy wrappers. Where did you get those from?
I’d be in big trouble for having my own candy stash. We were supposed to give any treats we got to Mrs. Peckerhead for the community box, but I tried to keep all Grandma’s treats, except, of course, I gave half to Lulu. Anything you handed over to Mrs. Peckerhead, you’d never see again, except for horrible things she didn’t want, like the dried apricots one girl got from her grandfather.
The empty room reeked of poison brown disinfectant and talcum powder that smelled like flowered feet. Duffy girls got it from John’s Bargain Store on Flatbush Avenue—those who managed to beg money from relatives if they had them, or steal it from the girls who did, if they didn’t—and sprinkled it under the cheap, scratchy dresses they wore to church.
Lulu walked in as I bicycled my feet in the air with my hands holding up my hips.
“Where are you going?” Lulu asked.
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
Lulu sat next to me. “Are you okay?”
“Reetha will kill you if you sit on her bed,” I said.
“I’m truly scared.” As if to prove her point, Lulu lay down, even daring to put her shoes on the bed. Lulu had become tough since she’d turned thirteen. Grandma called her a juvenile delinquent in training.
“Really, get off,” I begged.
“Okay, okay. Stop being a baby.” She switched to my bed. “So, are you okay?”
She pointed her chin at my head, and I tried not to cry, instead air-bicycling faster and faster.
“I’ll make sure they never do it again,” she said.
“No,” I screamed. “Don’t. It’ll just get worse. I know it. Unless you kill them. Ha ha.” I reached up and felt where hairs popped out of the headband. “Why does she hate me?”
“Because of Daddy,” Lulu
Curls from my ponytail lay scattered on my pillow. My hands twitched. I wanted to run to the mirror, but I wouldn’t give Reetha that satisfaction. Instead, I snatched a thick hardcover book, the largest I could find, from Olive’s shelf and ran over to Reetha’s bed. Her pajamas looked like a boy’s, and she smelled like she never washed down there.
I grabbed the book with both hands, lifted it over my head as high as possible, and slammed it down on Reetha’s head.
“Ugly skank.” I hit her again, aiming straight at her forehead scars.
Reetha rolled over and kicked me in the stomach. “Stuck-up Jew-girl.”
“Stop it,” Olive warned. “Someone’s coming.”
I ran back to my bed and leapt in, clutching Olive’s book in my trembling arms.
Our housemother walked in. “What’s going on?” She inspected us bed by bed. “Merry, what happened to your hair?”
I bit down on my lip. “I cut it,” I said.
I faced the wall, tracing a doggy face on the dirty beige paint with my finger. Circle, circle, circle, tongue. Floppy ears. Everyone was in church. I pulled the stretchy headband Janine had lent me tighter, lower around my ears, pretending no one could notice how ugly I looked. Strings of long hair mixed with short curls sticking out like loose wires. The housemother said I’d have to get a pixie cut, which made you look like a boy. When theweekday housemother for the older girls, the one who took care of haircuts, came tomorrow she’d finish Reetha’s job. I kicked the wall.
As soon as all the girls had left for church, I’d torn up my father’s letters and flushed them down the toilet. My hiding place had turned out to be useless. I walked my feet up and down the wall. Quietly. Because if Mrs. Parker-Peckerhead came in and found me doing it, she’d make me wash the wall down with the brown disinfectant that practically left holes in your hands.
You think people want to see your footprints on the wall, Meredith?
Mrs. Peckerhead would say as she handed me the scrub brush stuck in a pail of soapy water. When she made me move my bed from the wall and saw the real mess, she’d really punish me.
Look at this,
she’d yell.
Candy wrappers. Where did you get those from?
I’d be in big trouble for having my own candy stash. We were supposed to give any treats we got to Mrs. Peckerhead for the community box, but I tried to keep all Grandma’s treats, except, of course, I gave half to Lulu. Anything you handed over to Mrs. Peckerhead, you’d never see again, except for horrible things she didn’t want, like the dried apricots one girl got from her grandfather.
The empty room reeked of poison brown disinfectant and talcum powder that smelled like flowered feet. Duffy girls got it from John’s Bargain Store on Flatbush Avenue—those who managed to beg money from relatives if they had them, or steal it from the girls who did, if they didn’t—and sprinkled it under the cheap, scratchy dresses they wore to church.
Lulu walked in as I bicycled my feet in the air with my hands holding up my hips.
“Where are you going?” Lulu asked.
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
Lulu sat next to me. “Are you okay?”
“Reetha will kill you if you sit on her bed,” I said.
“I’m truly scared.” As if to prove her point, Lulu lay down, even daring to put her shoes on the bed. Lulu had become tough since she’d turned thirteen. Grandma called her a juvenile delinquent in training.
“Really, get off,” I begged.
“Okay, okay. Stop being a baby.” She switched to my bed. “So, are you okay?”
She pointed her chin at my head, and I tried not to cry, instead air-bicycling faster and faster.
“I’ll make sure they never do it again,” she said.
“No,” I screamed. “Don’t. It’ll just get worse. I know it. Unless you kill them. Ha ha.” I reached up and felt where hairs popped out of the headband. “Why does she hate me?”
“Because of Daddy,” Lulu
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