Fear of Falling by Laurie Halse Anderson Page A

when I have free time. Dr. Mac—her real name is Dr. J.J. MacKenzie—is the veterinarian who runs the clinic.
    I yank open the door and peer out. Nobody’s in the van yet. Good, I have time to grab a bite.
    Heading into the kitchen, I hear Mom and my kid sister, Ashley, arguing again. What is it this time—clothes? Mutilated Barbie hair? Whether she’s allowed to go out in public wearing those fake tattoos all her friends are wearing?
    At the table, Mom has set out vitamins, orange juice, skim milk, and some kind of nutritional fiber cereal. I sigh. We never have anything fun for breakfast, like Pop-Tarts. Sometimes I think it’s Mom’s way of trying to make us safe before she sends us off into the scary world. As if Flintstones vitamins will protect us from the Big Bad Wolf.
    But I shouldn’t be too hard on her. I think she’s still getting used to being a single mom and feels bad about leaving us to go off to work each day.
    I pour myself a bowl of little brown buds that look an awful lot like mouse droppings. I’m supposed to eat these? I give Mom a suffering look.
    That’s when I notice Ashley is wearing her favorite purple sundress.
    Mom’s holding a pair of jeans, a turtleneck, and a thick sweater. “Ashley, be reasonable,” she says. “It’s the end of November and you live in Pennsylvania, not Florida.”
    Ashley stubbornly shakes her head. “I have to wear my dress.”
    â€œYou’ll freeze!” Mom says.
    â€œNo, I won’t. I like cold.”
    Mom shakes her head, but I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. “I doubt that, young lady. Now, come on. People will think I’m a bad mother.”
    Ashley shrugs. She’s only five. She doesn’t care what other grown-ups think about her mother.
    While they go round and round, I bolt down my cereal and button my shirt. Brian’s totally oblivious, standing up at the counter guzzling milk straight out of the carton.
    â€œBrian!” Mom exclaims. “How many times have I asked you to use a glass for your milk?”
    â€œSorry, Mom.” Brian takes a final swig, then wipes his mouth on his sleeve and puts the carton back in the fridge.
    I glance at Mom. I can’t believe she lets him get away with stuff like that. She’s not that easy on me. Maybe she’s given up on him, since he’s sixteen and is gone half the time anyway.
    Besides, she’s got her hands full this morning with Ashley and her sundress. Ashley loves that dress more than anything. Dad sent it to her for her birthday.
    â€œAshley, I’m going to count to five—”
    â€œBut Mom,” Ashley says, looking up at our mother with those big blue eyes that are so much like Dad’s. “I have to keep it on all the time. For when Daddy comes.”
    â€œDaddy who?” Brian cracks.
    Ashley folds her arms and frowns at Brian as if he’s the little kid and she’s the one who’s six feet tall. “You know Daddy who! Our Daddy. Daddy Charlie Hutchinson!”
    Brian just rolls his eyes and shrugs into his jacket.
    Mom’s face closes up like a shade pulled down. I know she’s thinking what I’m thinking. Dad called last week out of the blue and said he was coming for Thanksgiving, and now Ashley’s so excited. Because she still believes in things. Things like the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy—and Dad’s promises.
    But I’ve heard his promises before. Ever since Dad took the transfer to Texas last year, we haven’t seen him at all. Not once. At first I believed Dad when he said we were only going to be apart for a little while, till he got settled in the job. Then we’d figure things out, he said.
    I never really understood what we had to figure out, exactly. It seemed simple—either come back home or take us out to Texas with him. Yet somehow neither of those things happened.
    Brian acts like he doesn’t care