Ferocity Summer Read Free Page B

been drinking!”
    I watched the secretary mop up the brown puddle with a wad of tissues. It was a hopeless task. Most of the coffee had already been absorbed by the paper. For some reason, this made me think of Randy and his goal to make enough money to buy a new life. I think that’s why I started laughing.
    It’s a weakness of mine, laughing when I shouldn’t. Normally I can stop it. I was, however, mildly drunk, and my laughter got away from me. I couldn’t even stop laughing when Smarelli told us to get into her office, not even when she threatened to suspend us. That actually made me laugh harder.

Approximately
One Hour Later
    O kay, so we weren’t Girl Scouts. We had our share of shortcomings and vices. To be fair, it wasn’t entirely our fault—we had circumstances working against us. I was one of those single-parent statistics, a fatherless, futureless fuck-up living on the edge of poverty. I was slightly better off than Civil War badass General Sherman, in that my mother hadn’t given me up to some random family at the age of nine for financial reasons. But that might only be because such an opportunity never presented itself to my mother.
    Willow had the benefit of money and two complete parental units, but they were both nut-jobs. Her father took a totalitarian sort of approach to child-rearing. He was strict to the point of alienation. With repression that bad, it was physically impossible to be good. Then there was Midge, who insisted on spoiling her daughter without restraint. That, and, well, Midge’s grasp on reality was somewhat tenuous. Between these two poles, Willow was pulled completely out of shape.
    I’m not trying to blame anyone for our problems, but sometimes when I really think about things, I wonder if we ever stood a chance in this world.
    Is this an appropriate time to bring up the fact that Sherman, himself, was something of a hellraiser during his West Point days? There are legends that persist to this day about his midnight potato-smashing raids on the cafeteria.
    â€œWhat I’m saying,” Smarelli said, “is that this is a very serious offense. Suspension would be going lightly. I could expel both girls if I wanted to.”
    Willow and I sat in the office, flanked by our mothers. My mother was still dressed in her supermarket smock. She kept playing with the Always for Less button she was wearing. Midge had been pulled away from the tanning salon. She had on a lavender warm-up outfit.
    â€œDon’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Midge said. “I mean, all they did was have a little drink. They’re teenagers; of course they are going to drink. All teenagers drink.”
    â€œI didn’t,” Smarelli said. If Midge was a little closer, I think Smarelli might have bitten off one of her pretty little manicured fingernails. “There is absolutely no excuse for showing up at school in an inebriated state.”
    â€œBut at least they went to school,” Midge said. “I mean, I think we should be proud of them for that.”
    Next to me, my mother sighed through her teeth. Smarelli’s face changed colors.
    Midge would take Willow’s side in any argument, but this time she had a very good reason to try to extricate her daughter from any disciplinary measure. Mr. Jenkins would come down much harder than the school on Willow, if he found out about this, and if Willow did get suspended, then he would most certainly find out.
    â€œDrugs and alcohol are some of the biggest demons plaguing our youngsters,” Smarelli said. “It’s our job as educators and parents to take a firm stance against the use of such substances. Especially in light of the events of last year, I cannot stress enough how important it is that Willow and Priscilla be made aware that this behavior cannot be tolerated.”
    â€œPunish them,” my mom said, “but for this incident and nothing else.” She