teachers. I expect your grades to improve or I’ll
be taking your car keys.”
I’ve heard it all
before. They won’t really take my car, I think. “Fine.”
“I mean it, Dakota.”
“I said fine!” I don’t
have the patience to deal with all her nitpicking so early in the morning.
There’s a tap on the
sliding glass doors and one of our gardeners, Julio, walks into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Lombardi, you
drink this?” He holds up a tan pitcher.
“I’ve been gone all
weekend.” My mother sighs loudly and looks to me. “Dakota, did you drink it?”
I study the pitcher. It
looks familiar. It hits me. Violet drank the red stuff from it on Friday night.
“Violet might have
drank it. Sorry, Julio. Was it your Kool-Aid?”
He laughs, which makes
my mom huff and turn away from us while typing furiously on her phone.
“Miss Cody, this was
hummingbird food.”
Coffee sprays from my
mouth and splatters across the counter.
“Dakota!” my mom
shrieks. “What is your problem?” She grabs a sponge and begins wiping it up.
“Wait, Violet drank
hummingbird food?” I hold back a laugh by putting my hands over my face. “Is it
poisonous?”
“No, it’s just sugar,
water, and red food coloring. I have to make more now.”
I stand and rush to the
stove. “No, I’m sorry. Let me make it.”
I can feel my mom’s
eyes on me the entire time as I wait for her criticism.
“Maybe you should make
some friends that know the difference between bird food and juice.” Her words
are like venom, but I try my best to ignore them.
“It was an honest
mistake.”
“Who is this Violet
girl anyway?”
“Violet Cromwell. She
and I had a few classes together last year.” I’m not surprised Dad hasn’t told
her anything about the drug bust and the fact that I’m not supposed to be seeing
her; they rarely talk. I relish in the way her face distorts when she hears the
name.
“The Cromwell girl?
Figures,” she huffs.
Nona’s home always
smells weird, but no one else
seems to notice. Family day is in the cafeteria. My father hasn’t shown up on
time, as usual. Some last minute appointment. Mother is running late as well,
but that’s okay. Nona and I sit at a round table playing a game of Rummy.
“Do you have a
boyfriend yet?” Nona asks, picking up a few cards.
I roll my eyes. “We’re
not talking boys today.”
“Why not? I’m so bored
here. Come on, gimme some good gossip to hold on to.”
I hold back a smile and
lean in close. It’s quiet in here and I don’t want anyone to hear what I’m
about to tell my Nona.
“Okay, but if you tell
Dad, I won’t visit for a month.”
“Cross my heart.” She
makes a cross shape along her chest. “Testicles, spectacles, watch and wallet.”
I cover my ears. Ew. I don’t want to hear her say the word testicles. “Nona, that’s gross.”
She sets her cards down
and attempts to wink at me, but she’s having such a hard time coordinating it,
I can’t help but laugh. “Would you rather I tell you about how your grandfather
had a dickiedo? His belly popped out further than his dickie do.”
“Nona!” I hiss again,
getting a disturbing chill up my spine. “If you bring up male genitals again, I
swear I’ll leave.”
“Oh all right, but if
you’re gonna be a nurse like I was, you will have to stop being so squeamish. You’ll
see balls of all sizes and shapes. Some that look like gourds, some that hang
low, and wobble to and fro, some that are hairy.”
“Nona! I’m not being
squeamish.”
“Tell me about this
testicle boy.”
I pinch up my lips
before smiling slowly. “I’m sorta seeing a guy. His name is Mischa.” I
make sure to stress the word sorta because who knows what we are doing.
“Mischa, huh? Is he
cute?”
“Very.”
“And did you meet in
class? Is he one of those football players you girls like to go for?”
“Nona! No, he’s a senior.”
She waves her hand at
me with a slight tsk. “Makes no difference to me.
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