A Fistful of God Read Free Page B

“What did you say?”
    “Nothing.” The park, crunchy with leaves and full of Saturday visitors, came into focus. Andy held his arms out for the swing. These kids needed me.
    I pushed Andy and wondered if Mom had really gone to that meeting. Maybe she’d gotten too caught up in being an alcoholic to tell a bunch of losers she was one.
    I yanked Andy out of the swing and onto my back. “Race you!” I yelled to Lucas, and I started around the edge of the playground. I ran away from the voice that accused, if she’s drinking right now, it’s because you made her, Aidyn. It’s your fault!
    Halfway around the edge I saw them, a bunch of boys from the high school, with Jackson right in the middle. I stopped and Lucas slammed into me. I grabbed his shoulder to keep my balance while he screamed, “I caught you! You’re it!”
    “We’re not playing tag.” I set Andy down and pretended to tie his shoe while I watched the boys.
    I knew almost all of them. Miguel, the clown, and Wallis, the best basketball player the high school team has had in years. But I couldn’t tear my eyes from Jackson. I tipped my head at a neck-wrenching angle to see him through both my hair and glasses. Jackson, with his ice-blue eyes and straight black hair. Everybody’s friend, except mine. He didn’t know me, but every other kid in high school got to call him a friend.
    My feelings for him proved I was just like any other girl, didn’t they? Those eyes, that smile, the one he gave to every person he saw. Not to me. He wouldn’t see me, but I responded like a real person. At least he gave me undeniable proof that I was alive, that I could be normal. If only…
    “Aidyn, come on,” Lucas yelled. He grabbed my hand and jerked, and I landed on my knees. Gritty sand dug into my skin, and I bent my head in pain. I heard the older boys laughing. I tried so hard not to look, but I had to. Jackson stood a little apart and stared at me, his eyes shadowed.
    Great. He had noticed me this time; he knew me now. He wouldn’t know my name, unless he’d heard Lucas, but he’d know me as the klutz.
    He turned and melted into the group, and I finally noticed Lucas. “Did I trouble you?” he asked.
    I laughed. Where had he gotten such an old-fashioned way of talking?
    He touched my cheek with butterfly-wing-fingers. “Mommy says you’re troubled. We say God bless Aidyn every night.”
    I sat down flat on the sand and gaped at him. So Mrs. Donaldson taught these little kids how to pity me. I didn’t need it! And if I didn’t need the money, I’d quit babysitting. But it wasn’t Lucas’s fault his mother was a busybody.
    After a minute, I pulled my head from my bent arms and took a breath to settle my thoughts. “I’m not troubled. Just don’t pull on me like that, OK?” By then Jackson and his friends had disappeared. It didn’t matter.
    I walked through our apartment door a little after five, and there was dinner on the table, heaping plates of spaghetti smothered in sauce, and salads. Balanced and healthy. Wow. And to round things out, a tumbler of wine at Mom’s place matched the cup of milk at mine.
    At least we weren’t pretending she wasn’t drinking anymore.
    My stomach knotted but at least I knew what to expect.
    Mom finished off that first glass before she even took one bite. I wondered if she’d eat at all, but after she refilled the glass from a pitcher in the fridge, she sat down and motioned me to join her.
    “How was your day?” she asked.
    I picked at a string of pasta with my fingers.
    She took another drink, then a bite. Maybe she thought I wouldn’t notice how she’d polished off that first glass. Maybe she thought she could fool me into thinking she had Kool-Aid in there. Maybe she was too far gone to care.
    When Mom first started drinking, I saw nothing wrong with it. I was only nine and as miserable as my mother, and I felt so safe when she relaxed and smiled and sometimes laughed. I’d missed her laughter the