Secondhand Purses Read Free

that’s what I said.”
    “Your grandmother lives in Texas. There was no way you were with Nonna. And why the heck have you started speaking Italian? Are you learning that in school? I thought you were taking French.”
    It was my turn to look at her in confusion.
    “Nonna means ‘grandmother in Italian.” Mom was talking to me as if I was a little slow. That just pissed me off.
    “Well, I asked her name, that’s what she said her name was. It’s not my fault that she has a messed up name.” My arms were crossed and my body vibrated with growing annoyance. Mom knew I couldn’t stand being talked to like I was stupid.
    “One of your friends from school is named Nonna?” I cringed.
    “Um, well, she’s doesn’t exactly go to my school.”
    “Does she go to East Providence or something?”
    “She doesn’t exactly go to high school, mom. Well, I mean, she probably did once…”
    Mom squinted her eyes at me. Uh-oh.
    “How old is this new ‘friend’ of yours, Victoria.” Eek, full first name. Full first name usually means I’m headed towards being in trouble.
    “I really don’t know, you always told me it was rude to ask someone’s age.”
    “Only if they are much older.” I sort of bit my lip and smile at her sheepishly.
    Mom’s eyes bugged out a bit and her jaw slackened. She blinked a few time, and looked like she was trying to get her mouth to work.
    “Victoria Alexandra Edwards! How old is this friend of yours?” Oh man, full name time. And her volume increased every third word.
    “I imagine she’s probably at least seventy, but it’s kinda hard to tell. I mean, she could be in her sixties but had a really rough life, or in her eighties and lived well. I just don’t know. When I asked her name, she said it was Nonna. I just thought it was a really wacked name. I guess it makes a little more sense now.”
    Mom didn’t have much more to say, I guess, because she got very quiet. She looked like she was still sort of processing that I had found someone to hang out with and it just so happened she was a lot of decades older than me.
    “Vic, I’m not so sure I’m comfortable with you spending time with someone so much older than you. How are you ever going to make friends your own age if you don’t hang out with them? You keep telling us you don’t fit in wherever it is we live, but hanging out with someone older than your grandmother is not going to help.”
    My eyes started filling up. I was so freaking tired of this conversation. So freaking tired of hearing about how I needed to fit in. How I needed to have friends my age. How I spent too much time alone and didn’t try hard enough.
    “Well, you know what else doesn’t help me fit in, Mom ? Moving every three years and having to say goodbye to whatever friends I managed to make doesn’t help me fit in. I’ll always be a freak. I’ll always be weird. So why even bother. It’s not going to happen.” The tears were threatening to spill so I whirled away from her, grabbed my book back and headed up the stairs before she could see me cry.
    When I got to the top of the stairs I risked a look down and saw her standing there with her arms crossed and her head and shoulders slumped forward. Great. I was a disappointment once again.
    I got to my room and flopped down on the bed. I knew that a normal teen would have slammed the door, but in my family, that would mean sure death to my non-existent social life. My dad was a morning radio show host, so he was asleep right now. He took naps in the afternoon, and always woke up in time to have dinner with mom and me. I love my dad to death, but that job of his was the reason we never stayed in the same place twice. He used a different last name on the air, which was good, because it delayed the amount of time it took people to figure out my dad was that Bryan Shawn. Eventually people would figure it out, he mentioned me by first name all the time; so it would start to click with my classmates.