Purpose Read Free Page A

And Uncle Owen’s coming!”
    “No fighting at school, okay?” I warned.
    “I’ll try.” He gave me the same promise every
day…and rarely followed through on it. He had control of his anger
about as much as I did. Usually, he fought kids who teased him
about me, his crazy mother.
    “You said the same thing yesterday,” Mom
reminded him.
    “That stupid Joey! I hate him, Mimi! He said
my dad’s a no good shithead who didn’t want me.”
    “Honey, that’s a bad word. You are too young
to be using such language,” Mom said.
    “I didn’t say it! Joey did!”
    The anger at the memory flashed in his
eyes—tiny sparks in the gold flecks around his pupils. Anger boiled
in my own chest. Once I became “America’s favorite young author,”
the media quickly discovered I’d been pregnant at the tender age of
nineteen and the father was nowhere to be found. People made up
their own stories from there. So when Dorian didn’t feel a need to
protect me, he defended his so-called deadbeat dad. Because he knew
better.
    “Good for you!” I said, giving Dorian a
squeeze. I would have done the same thing—punched the kid in the
face. In fact, the lunatic in me wanted to hunt down the little
brat right now. The not-so-crazy part of me at least wanted to find
his parents.
    Mom shook her head disapprovingly. I ignored
her.
    “Don’t you ever let anyone talk about
your daddy that way,” I said. “He’s a wonderful man and he loves
you very much. It’s not his fault he’s not here. You know that,
right?”
    He nodded, his cupid-bow lips quivering with
sadness. I held my arms out and he gave me a bear hug—as big of a
hug as a six-year-old can. He knocked me to the floor and I gave an
exaggerated cry. He laughed and showed me his guns, flexing his
biceps. I ooh’ed and aah’ed over them. They were actually
impressive. He had his dad’s strength.
    Then he crossed his arms over his chest and
looked at Mom and then me, his eyes lit up with mischief. “I’ll
stop fighting if you get me a dog. Then I’ll have a friend and I’ll
ignore everyone else.”
    I bit my lip, not knowing whether I would
laugh or cry. I knew how Dorian felt to want a friend so badly. I
also knew he would promise anything to have a dog, which he’d been
begging us for since his last birthday. We had a hard time
believing, though, that he would stop fighting. It was just part of
his nature.
    “I turn seven in twenty-eight days,” he said
when we didn’t respond. And then I did chuckle.
    “We’ll see,” I finally said.
    “How about no fighting between now and your
birthday and then we’ll discuss it?” Mom suggested.
    I looked at her with surprise. She was the
one usually against adopting a pet. A dog would be another
responsibility to worry about if we ever had to go on the run
again. Then I realized she must have figured Dorian wouldn’t be
able to hold up his end of the bargain.
    “Deal,” he said and I cringed. I agreed with
Mom on this one.
    I gave Dorian another hug, then Mom took him
to school. As soon as I was alone, I poured a cup of coffee, went
out the backdoor and snuck around the side of the house for a
cigarette. When I heard Mom’s car return nearly an hour later, I
snuffed out my third one and drained my third cup of coffee, then
hurried inside. I munched on chocolate-chip cookies when she came
through the door and dumped an armful of grocery bags on the
counter. She eyed me, her mahogany eyes filled with disdain.
    “Those are healthy,” she said as she placed
the bags on the counter.
    “Breakfast of champions.”
    “Alexis—”
    I felt a lecture coming on and there were
plenty of areas she could pick on. The ticking in my head grew
louder. Some kind of switch flipped. I couldn’t control the need. I wanted to lash out. Psycho Alexis reared her ugly head.
    “I don’t want to hear it, Mom,” I snapped,
marching out of the kitchen. “I fucked up by not having a girl, but
I gave it my best shot. I’m writing