couldn't be a good thing, either.
Chapter six
It was after the awkward feeling dinner that Becky got the idea. The exercise earlier had been hard, because Darla pushed her to do things that she never would have without prompting. Everything hurt now, not just her legs. She'd made it for a while, but when she was dropped off at home, carrying her one small bag, she felt like she was about eighty. Maybe older.
Limping into the little apartment, she noticed that Mike, her step-dad, was passed out on the couch. It was an old and well worn thing that they'd picked up second or third hand. This showed in the stains that were on it, as well as the bit of yellow foam that showed where the seams had split in places. They had a pretty broken down easy chair too, that once upon a time had been nice, she guessed, but that had been at least a few years before they'd found it on the street. Nothing they had was new or nice. Not even the man sleeping there.
That probably wasn't fair really. Mike was broken down, a drunk and certainly would have been splitting at the seams if human beings didn't stretch as well as they did, being pretty overweight. He also smelled more than a bit. He was also a way better parent than her mother ever had been. An older guy that, as she'd thought before, really should have decided that living alone was a better bet for himself than being with her mom.
She, fortunately enough, wasn't home at all. It was Sunday, but that was just another night out partying for her. It meant that Becky could hobble to her room without bothering to explain that no, she wasn't limping like that because the gang bang lacked proper lubrication. Okay, so her mother had never said anything like that to her, but she probably would have if she'd noticed the limping around. Instead she got to her room without having to talk to anyone, and climbed onto the single mattress that she had, which just sat on the floor.
It wasn't until early in the morning that she heard sounds coming from the front room. At first she tried to imagine it as a group of very disappointed burglars coming in, but she knew it was just that last call had ended. Looking at the clock, which had glowing numbers on it, she blinked. That had been a while before, actually. It was nearly time for her to get up for school.
Fighting to her feet, feeling sore still, but not as much as she had, at least through her legs, Becky stumbled out into the other room. It was just her mother, who was rummaging through the cupboards, looking for something to eat.
She was heavy, but only about like how Becky used to be, and looked like she'd slept on her face, since there was a slightly red line down it. After a few seconds she got that it was a scratch, not just a line. It hadn't broken the skin. The woman didn't really notice her for a long time, until she turned, a waxed paper package of round crackers in her hand. They were the knock off brand, since that's all they ever got.
The thing was waved at her tiredly.
"Oh, hey sweetie. Want some crackers?" It was an attempt to be nice, but Becky shook her head. She was hungry, but that was a constant thing now. She had a goal to keep.
"No, thanks. Dieting. So, how are things?" It was her normal question, since asking about work was right out. The hard part was that she never knew what her mother might say in return.
Sometimes it was a very normal sounding "fine", and others it would be a blow by blow of her evening, including everything she'd had to drink, and what she did with each of the guys she'd met.
Today it seemed she was splitting the difference.
"Not bad. I met up with some guys, and you know..." She seemed to assume that Becky just would . It made for some awkward conversations, but not nearly as bad as when she assumed that her daughter wouldn't. Those conversations were cringe worthy.
Mike was still on the sofa, snoring softly, which got her to look over at him. Maggie noticed her looking
Chapter six
It was after the awkward feeling dinner that Becky got the idea. The exercise earlier had been hard, because Darla pushed her to do things that she never would have without prompting. Everything hurt now, not just her legs. She'd made it for a while, but when she was dropped off at home, carrying her one small bag, she felt like she was about eighty. Maybe older.
Limping into the little apartment, she noticed that Mike, her step-dad, was passed out on the couch. It was an old and well worn thing that they'd picked up second or third hand. This showed in the stains that were on it, as well as the bit of yellow foam that showed where the seams had split in places. They had a pretty broken down easy chair too, that once upon a time had been nice, she guessed, but that had been at least a few years before they'd found it on the street. Nothing they had was new or nice. Not even the man sleeping there.
That probably wasn't fair really. Mike was broken down, a drunk and certainly would have been splitting at the seams if human beings didn't stretch as well as they did, being pretty overweight. He also smelled more than a bit. He was also a way better parent than her mother ever had been. An older guy that, as she'd thought before, really should have decided that living alone was a better bet for himself than being with her mom.
She, fortunately enough, wasn't home at all. It was Sunday, but that was just another night out partying for her. It meant that Becky could hobble to her room without bothering to explain that no, she wasn't limping like that because the gang bang lacked proper lubrication. Okay, so her mother had never said anything like that to her, but she probably would have if she'd noticed the limping around. Instead she got to her room without having to talk to anyone, and climbed onto the single mattress that she had, which just sat on the floor.
It wasn't until early in the morning that she heard sounds coming from the front room. At first she tried to imagine it as a group of very disappointed burglars coming in, but she knew it was just that last call had ended. Looking at the clock, which had glowing numbers on it, she blinked. That had been a while before, actually. It was nearly time for her to get up for school.
Fighting to her feet, feeling sore still, but not as much as she had, at least through her legs, Becky stumbled out into the other room. It was just her mother, who was rummaging through the cupboards, looking for something to eat.
She was heavy, but only about like how Becky used to be, and looked like she'd slept on her face, since there was a slightly red line down it. After a few seconds she got that it was a scratch, not just a line. It hadn't broken the skin. The woman didn't really notice her for a long time, until she turned, a waxed paper package of round crackers in her hand. They were the knock off brand, since that's all they ever got.
The thing was waved at her tiredly.
"Oh, hey sweetie. Want some crackers?" It was an attempt to be nice, but Becky shook her head. She was hungry, but that was a constant thing now. She had a goal to keep.
"No, thanks. Dieting. So, how are things?" It was her normal question, since asking about work was right out. The hard part was that she never knew what her mother might say in return.
Sometimes it was a very normal sounding "fine", and others it would be a blow by blow of her evening, including everything she'd had to drink, and what she did with each of the guys she'd met.
Today it seemed she was splitting the difference.
"Not bad. I met up with some guys, and you know..." She seemed to assume that Becky just would . It made for some awkward conversations, but not nearly as bad as when she assumed that her daughter wouldn't. Those conversations were cringe worthy.
Mike was still on the sofa, snoring softly, which got her to look over at him. Maggie noticed her looking
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