Bleed by Laurie Faria Stolarz Page B

feel sick. I feel like I can’t breathe, like there’s glass stuck in my chest, like all the doors are slamming in my head. And my ankle and foot are aching, all the way up my leg. “I don’t feel good,” I say. “My achilles tendon hurts.” I bend my leg to get the weight off it.
    “Too bad.”
    “No,” I cry. “You hurt it.”
    Mom grabs me by the arm and pinches my skin. “Pick up the junk food. NOW!” she shouts.
    I do, but it’s hard to fit it all in my arms. I keep dropping bags of Doritos. There’s a Twinkie behind the door. Mom doesn’t see it and I don’t point it out.
    She drags me down the hallway, past Hideous Ginger and her point-taking clone, Cheryl, and into the kitchen.
    “Thanks for stealing my key, thief,” Ginger says. She opens the Pringles, takes out a three-stack, inserts them into her smiley mouth, and chews and chews and chews. “Yummy, yummy. Want one, Cheryl?” Ginger holds the container out to Cheryl, but Cheryl just looks at me and shakes her head.
    I hate Ginger so much. So much I want to just rip her eyes out and feed them to one of Dracula’s pet rats.
    The kitchen’s too bright. The light stings my eyes. I try to keep them shut, but Mom grabs my face and makes me look. The freezer door is open: a bunch of frozen stuff is lying on the ground. It must have toppled out.
    She pulls me by the arm over to the sink and makes me open up all the Twinkies and Doritos. I stand on the step stool and collect it all into a nice little mound, the Twinkies at the bottom, across the hole so they don’t fall in, the Doritos on the top and sides like a sandcastle.
    “Now turn the faucet on.”
    I choose the hot water and watch it drill down into my snacks, making them fall apart and plop into the hole. Mom turns on the garbage disposal and it eats everything up, even lets out a burp in the end.
    “Not so appetizing now, is it?” she says.
    I shake my head, and the steam from the burp rises up through the hole to kiss my face. What a waste!
    “Now I want you to rearrange the freezer—put everything back exactly the way you found it. Hear me?”
    “Can I help her?” Nina asks. She’s peeking at me from the hallway.
    “NO!” Mom says. “Go play in your room. Tell Douglas to call his mother to pick him up.”
    “How come Cheryl gets to stay?” Nina asks.
    But Mom doesn’t answer. She grabs a picture off the fridge, a heart that Nina drew, flips it over, grabs the dry-erase marker from the board, and writes— PLEASE DO NOT FEED SADIE. SHE IS A BAD GIRL WHO CHEATS ON HER DIET . Then she staples it to my front, over Tinker Bell’s face. I’m crying now, so hard I wish I was dead. I wish I would just die.
    Mom ignores my crying and heads to her room—I’m sure—to change into her stupid red-and-white candy-cane aerobics leotard. Nina stomps down the hallway and slams her door shut, leaving Douglas to sit by himself in the living room.
    And now I’m all alone in the kitchen. I pause to pluck out a nub of lashes, but when I look down, see a smear of watery blood on my fingertips. I touch the lid to be sure. More blood. And the skin feels sore and puffy. At first I feel myself shaking. Feel my heart break up into bits of splintery glass. But then I close my eyes and tell myself to relax, to be strong. There’s bound to be bloodshed at this level. What’s important is that I finish the game.
    I grab a couple Reynolds Wrapped packages and throw them into the garbage. Then I remember Mom and Dad’s cake sitting at the back of the freezer. It goes next.
    Feeling a little better, I blot at my eye with a napkin, grab my magic whip, and sneak down the stairs. I open the front door as quietly as I can, careful not to disturb any of the wakeful beasts of the lair. I scooch myself through the crack and out the screen door.
    And now I’m out. I’m free. I’ve won this level.
    I run across the driveway and down the street as fast as I can. Away. I know I’ll get in trouble later. I