Twelve Read Free Page A

out.
    â€œAnd today is Tuesday, ” Sandra said. “As in two full days later.” She turned to Mom. “Can we please go get my license?”
    â€œI asked first!” I said. “I’ve been waiting even longer!”
    â€œKa-pow!” Ty said, smacking Mom below the knee. “Your leg is gone! You have to fall down!”
    â€œ Enough! ” Mom cried.
    We fell silent. Ty hesitated, then poked Mom with the tip of the sword. Mom snatched it and plunked it on the counter.
    â€œGood heavens,” Mom said. “You children are driving me crazy.”
    Sandra huffed indignantly, and I shared her pain. We were hardly “children.”
    Mom closed her eyes. She inhaled. She was doing her relaxation breath, which we were all familiar with. She exhaled calmly and slowly. She opened her eyes.
    â€œNow,” she said. “Ty, no sword fighting in the house.” She turned to me. “And, Winnie, are you sure you want to get your ears pierced? Are you absolutely positive?”
    â€œMo-o-om,” I said. She couldn’t get it through her head that yes, I was sure, and that nothing she could say would change my mind. Not that she hadn’t given it her best shot. Over the weekend she’d modeled a fake ear out of Ty’s Silly Putty to give me a visual demonstration of what I was in for.
    â€œThis is your ear,” she’d said. And it did look remarkably like an ear—even the color was appropriately skin-toned. She used her fingernail to carve out a too-big hole in the lobe, then said, “And this is what will happen if you wear earrings. Your ear will stretch, like this.” She pulled on the lobe, and it stretched like taffy. It became a tribal woman’s ear in National Geographic . Then the Silly Putty reached its snapping point, and the whole lobe popped off, leaving a mutilated half ear with an unnaturally smooth scar.
    â€œYou see?” Mom had said.
    Now I took Mom’s knife and placed it by the green peppers. I put my hands on her shoulders. “Repeat after me,” I said. “Ear piercing will not lead to disfigurement. Ear piercing is normal and good.”
    â€œHello?” Sandra said impatiently. “My driver’s license?”
    Mom sighed. She got a Ziploc bag from the drawer and scraped the peppers into it. She sealed it and put it in the fridge. Then she faced the three of us and said, “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go to the mall and get Winnie’s ears pierced, and Sandra, you can drive. And afterward we’ll stop by the Department of Motor Vehicles. Everybody satisfied?”
    â€œCan I bring my sword?” Ty asked.
    â€œYou can bring it in the car, but not into the mall,” Mom declared.
    â€œDeal,” Ty said.
    On the way to Lenox Square, I gave Sandra helpful hints about her driving.
    â€œGreen light means go,” I said when Sandra was slow to start up at a traffic light. I said it very pleasantly, but Sandra scowled nonetheless.
    â€œOops, don’t hit the pedestrian!” I exclaimed as we passed a man walking his dog.
    â€œHe’s fifteen feet away!” Sandra protested. “He’s on the sidewalk!”
    â€œCrazy driver!” Ty said.
    â€œWinnie and Ty, stop distracting your sister,” Mom scolded. “Driving is very serious business. One wrong turn and you could ruin a life forever.”
    â€œWe know, we know, we know,” I said. Earlobes popping off, innocent bystanders getting killed in the blink of an eye—in Mom Land there was disaster lurking around every corner.
    â€œMy cousin Laetitia was killed when she was two years old,” Mom said. “Her own father backed over her in his pickup truck.” She twisted around to eye me from the front seat. “Do you think a day goes by when he doesn’t wish he could go back in time?”
    I’d heard many times about Laetitia, so I didn’t bother to respond. I