interjected regularly with mortified gasps of, “Oh, my God , Mom! You were scared of a chipmunk?” and “Oh, my God , Mom! They all saw you?” When Dana got to the part about chipping her tooth, Morgan said, “Let me see.” Dana rolled up her lip, and Morgan leaned close, running her tongue across her own teeth. “Did it hurt a lot?”
“A little,” said Dana. “You think it looks okay? It’s just temporary. I have to go back for a veneer next week.”
“Smile,” said Morgan, leaning back to get a fuller view. Dana smiled, her lips pulling taut across her face. Morgan started to giggle.
“What?” said Dana.
“I just can’t believe a cute little chipmunk made you freak out!”
“He wasn’t cute, he was horrible—his face was orange!”
“Whatever you say.” Morgan laughed. “At least your hair looks good. Are you using a new conditioner or something?” She reached her hand out to stroke her mother’s hair, shifting it to one side, then the other. “It’s shinier. It almost looks like Kimmi’s.”
Then Morgan began to recount the cogent facts of her day, the most important of which always revolved around lunch. She’d been thinking about sitting with the popular girls, because she’d helped one of them make an ecosystem terrarium in science. “She didn’t get it that the dirt goes in first, not the little plant.” But Morgan couldn’t catch her eye to see if she would move over. “It would’ve looked like I was squeezing in, not just sitting down, you know, normally.”
But then Darby called out to her, “Hey, nice shirt!” and they laughed really hard, because it reminded them of the time they bought the same shirt in different colors. The clerk at Hollister was really cute, but he had a little snot in his nose and it made him look totally disgusting. Morgan and Darby told all this to Kimmi Kinnear, who’d had that very same thing happen once, only it was her brother, who’s not cute at all, but girls seem to like him for some dumb reason.
“It was so funny, Mom, and it was really good, because I was sitting between Kimmi and Darby, so they couldn’t turn away from me.”
“Why would they turn away from you?”
“I don’t know. Kids do it all the time. You’re with someone, then somebody else comes over and says to the person you’re with, ‘I have to tell you something!’ and they turn away.”
“But that’s not right. If they need to speak privately, they shouldn’t do it in the middle of a crowded lunchroom.”
“Mom, I know, but that’s what they do.”
“Well, I certainly hope you don’t.”
“Not that much,” said Morgan wistfully. “I can never think of anything good enough to say.”
Grady banged through the door and unloaded his backpack, jacket, baseball mitt, and spongy Nerf football onto the mudroom floor like so much fill dirt dropping from a backhoe. “How was school?” Dana asked.
“Good.” He shrugged, as if the question were meaningless. “Can you move your car? I’m gonna skateboard in the driveway.”
“Okay, but you have to use knee and elbow pads—Please don’t give me a face,” she said, stopping him mid-whine. “I only want you to be safe.”
She had just parked out on the street when another car pulled up, an avocado green station wagon with graffiti scrawled across the door panels. Music throbbing from the car cut out suddenly in the middle of a barrage of pulsing, unintelligible words.
Alder was on the passenger side and leaned over to hug the driver, then sprang from the car, which started to roll before the door was completely shut. The driver leaned out her window and screamed, “CALL ME LATER!” Dana caught a fleeting glance: a girl with short, spiky black hair and rings of eyeliner that seemed to creep down to her cheekbones.
Alder cocked her head as she took in the sight of Dana’s puffy lip. “Tough day?” she said.
Dana was still processing the green station wagon and its loud, blackened
“A little,” said Dana. “You think it looks okay? It’s just temporary. I have to go back for a veneer next week.”
“Smile,” said Morgan, leaning back to get a fuller view. Dana smiled, her lips pulling taut across her face. Morgan started to giggle.
“What?” said Dana.
“I just can’t believe a cute little chipmunk made you freak out!”
“He wasn’t cute, he was horrible—his face was orange!”
“Whatever you say.” Morgan laughed. “At least your hair looks good. Are you using a new conditioner or something?” She reached her hand out to stroke her mother’s hair, shifting it to one side, then the other. “It’s shinier. It almost looks like Kimmi’s.”
Then Morgan began to recount the cogent facts of her day, the most important of which always revolved around lunch. She’d been thinking about sitting with the popular girls, because she’d helped one of them make an ecosystem terrarium in science. “She didn’t get it that the dirt goes in first, not the little plant.” But Morgan couldn’t catch her eye to see if she would move over. “It would’ve looked like I was squeezing in, not just sitting down, you know, normally.”
But then Darby called out to her, “Hey, nice shirt!” and they laughed really hard, because it reminded them of the time they bought the same shirt in different colors. The clerk at Hollister was really cute, but he had a little snot in his nose and it made him look totally disgusting. Morgan and Darby told all this to Kimmi Kinnear, who’d had that very same thing happen once, only it was her brother, who’s not cute at all, but girls seem to like him for some dumb reason.
“It was so funny, Mom, and it was really good, because I was sitting between Kimmi and Darby, so they couldn’t turn away from me.”
“Why would they turn away from you?”
“I don’t know. Kids do it all the time. You’re with someone, then somebody else comes over and says to the person you’re with, ‘I have to tell you something!’ and they turn away.”
“But that’s not right. If they need to speak privately, they shouldn’t do it in the middle of a crowded lunchroom.”
“Mom, I know, but that’s what they do.”
“Well, I certainly hope you don’t.”
“Not that much,” said Morgan wistfully. “I can never think of anything good enough to say.”
Grady banged through the door and unloaded his backpack, jacket, baseball mitt, and spongy Nerf football onto the mudroom floor like so much fill dirt dropping from a backhoe. “How was school?” Dana asked.
“Good.” He shrugged, as if the question were meaningless. “Can you move your car? I’m gonna skateboard in the driveway.”
“Okay, but you have to use knee and elbow pads—Please don’t give me a face,” she said, stopping him mid-whine. “I only want you to be safe.”
She had just parked out on the street when another car pulled up, an avocado green station wagon with graffiti scrawled across the door panels. Music throbbing from the car cut out suddenly in the middle of a barrage of pulsing, unintelligible words.
Alder was on the passenger side and leaned over to hug the driver, then sprang from the car, which started to roll before the door was completely shut. The driver leaned out her window and screamed, “CALL ME LATER!” Dana caught a fleeting glance: a girl with short, spiky black hair and rings of eyeliner that seemed to creep down to her cheekbones.
Alder cocked her head as she took in the sight of Dana’s puffy lip. “Tough day?” she said.
Dana was still processing the green station wagon and its loud, blackened
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