Grief Girl by Erin Vincent Page B

come back as a cockroach if you’re bad and all that.
    I wonder where Mum and Dad are now? Could they be the kittens at the pet shop, the newborn babies I see being pushed in strollers at the mall where I work?
    I suppose I’ll never know.
    Anyway, if they were reborn, Mum would come back as a thin, glamorous movie star, and Dad would be a chef with a restaurant full of regulars who all say “Hi, Ron” as they walk in.
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    Tracy has to quit her full-time job at the hair salon. She has to drive Trent to and from preschool/daycare, so will now only work a half day a week at the salon and do private haircuts in our kitchen.
    Chris is helping support us, working at a car body shop. Maybe that’s where he takes out a lot of his frustration…hammering away at cars instead of us. Chris never gets angry or impatient. He’s so calm. I wonder why a twenty-two-year-old guy would want to put himself in the thick of all this. He really must love Tracy a lot.
    I’m working at Cookie Man on Thursday nights and Saturdays and will work full-time during my school breaks. We also get a small family allowance from the government for Trent, so among the four of us we’re making almost enough to survive, as long as we’re careful.
    No new clothes (it’s not like we’re going anywhere, plus I like wearing Dad’s shirt). No fancy food, like ice cream and chocolate (I’m not so into food these days; neither is Trent, and Tracy never was). Lights off when you leave a room (we were supposed to do that when life was normal, but never did). No long showers and no baths (except for Trent, but he’s so little he doesn’t use much water. Sometimes I put my swimsuit on and bathe with him). And (the only one that bugs me, because I like to have my own) borrowed, not bought, textbooks and novels.
    It all runs smoothly. As long as nothing goes wrong.
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    â€œThe fridge has stopped working,” Tracy says on Monday morning after having just done our food shopping the day before. “If this food spoils, we’re screwed. We don’t have any food money left for another couple of weeks!” She’s crying.
    It’s funny, she can cry for a fridge but not for her parents. I guess the tears are all the same, really. I know she’s devastated too, I just wish she’d share it with me.
    Chris is quickly on the floor trying to fix the fridge, and Trent brings out a blue plastic toy hammer. It’s amazing how he can make us smile at the worst of times. Chris fiddles and Trent knocks his hammer on the fridge door but nothing happens.
    â€œI’m sorry, I’ve got to leave for work,” Chris says, getting up. “I’ll call you when I get there.”
    He kisses Tracy and Trent goodbye.
    â€œWe’ll just have to call Ronald,” Tracy says.
    Ronald is the executor of the wills. The wills were written when Nanny was still alive, naming her as the person to take care of us if something happened. Now that she’s gone, it’s passed on to Ronald.
    Tracy was furious when we found out. “I can’t believe they didn’t change their wills. I should be the one looking after this!”
    So Ronald is in charge of the little bit of savings Mum and Dad had after their debts were paid, as well as any money that might come from the possible court case against the driver who hit them. It’s all blood money, if you ask me.
    â€œHi, Ronald. It’s me, Tracy…. Good, thanks. Well, actually not really. Our fridge has broken down and it’s full of food…. Could you please put some of our money into my account so we can get it fixed before everything defrosts?…Yes, Chris tried to fix it before leaving for work, but it’s still broken…. Please, Ronald, all our food is going to be ruined…. What? What do you mean it’s not the kind of thing the money is