hospital."
"Everything okay?"
"Sure, it's a boy. A little
bebito.
"
"No, I mean with your mom and ... her job. When you weren't there, I was..."
"Oh. Yeah. So far."
"Did you tell her about what happened with Brianna and the test—"
"No."
"Would she tell you if—"
"If she gets accused of something she didn't do?" Matteo snorts. "Yeah, I'd know. She'd be crying so loud, you'd hear her all the way at your apartment. Hey, we get any new math homework?"
"Nope."
"Good. Okay, well, you know, thanks—"
"For what?" Walk switches the phone to the other ear.
"For bein' a butthead, what do you think?"
"You call me a butthead, you end up flat on all sides like a GameCube. A broken one. All cube, no game."
Matteo laughs. "I'd like to see that."
"Come to school tomorrow, I'll give you a little demo," Walk tells him.
"I'll be there, man," Matteo says. "I will."
Forty-Three
Kirsten
I tried to talk to my mom, but she was gone all day Sunday on a yoga retreat—didn't even say goodbye. And then as soon as she got back, she was out the door to Madison's mom's house to address auction invitations. Last night she was busy reloading the dishwasher because no one ever loads it the way she likes and filling out a big stack of application forms so Kippy can go to a gifted kids program on Saturdays.
Okay, maybe she wasn't that busy. Maybe I didn't really want to talk to her about this. But I have to talk to someone.
In the kitchen Kippy is standing on the step stool stirring a big mess. She's making the kind of concoction she usually creates with bubble bath and shampoo in the tub only now she's mixing tea bags, coffee grounds, and tuna fish.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Making compost."
"For what?"
"The tree."
"Oh yeah. The tree. Are Mom and Dad up yet?" I ask, though one look at the kitchen should tell me the answer to that question.
"They had a big fight last night."
"Again?"
"I slept in their room, but it didn't help."
"You sleep in their room so they won't fight?"
She nods.
"Ah, Kip." She looks so small in my old Scooby-Doo pajamas. I put my arm around her and give her a hug. Hey, shouldn't she be dressed? This is a school day.
"Mom's got to drive us to school...," I say.
Kippy shrugs. She cracks an egg and adds the shell to the mess in her jar. "What's the matter with them?" She looks up at me and waits.
"Mom and Dad?"
She nods.
Mom sometimes lies to Kippy. She tells her robbers don't know our address, kids don't ever die, and moms don't have children they don't love. Kip always knows when Mom's feeding her a load of crap, though, and she comes and talks to me about it.
"Mom found out something Dad did a long time ago and she's really mad at him."
"What'd he do?"
I rest my elbows on the counter and watch Kippy. She's grown, I suddenly realize. Her face isn't as round as it used to be. "You hear anything weird when they argued?"
"No. What'd he do?" she asks again.
"I don't know for sure, Kip."
She looks at me, then back at her jar. I can almost feel her thinking terrible things. When you tell Kip you don't know, she figures it's because the glaciers are melting and we won't live through the week, anyway.
"I don't," I repeat, jutting my chin out.
Her eyes continue to stare at me. She doesn't blink.
"Okay, okay...," I say. "Remember that kid Walk who was here doing homework with me last week?"
She nods.
"He's our half brother. His dad is our dad, but he has a different mom." I laugh at this. I laugh so hard I can hardly stand up.
Kippy does not laugh. "Is this a true story?"
I get quiet now. "Yes."
She bites her lip and her eyes go straight up like she's trying to add a big column of numbers in her head. "So Dad's sperm went inside Walk's mom, but how did it get in there?" she whispers.
"God, Kippy, do you have to be so literal?"
"Well?" she asks, her little forehead still furrowed like she's trying to make sense of this.
"Ask Mom about that. Oh no! Don't ask Mom about it! Don't! Don't say
"Everything okay?"
"Sure, it's a boy. A little
bebito.
"
"No, I mean with your mom and ... her job. When you weren't there, I was..."
"Oh. Yeah. So far."
"Did you tell her about what happened with Brianna and the test—"
"No."
"Would she tell you if—"
"If she gets accused of something she didn't do?" Matteo snorts. "Yeah, I'd know. She'd be crying so loud, you'd hear her all the way at your apartment. Hey, we get any new math homework?"
"Nope."
"Good. Okay, well, you know, thanks—"
"For what?" Walk switches the phone to the other ear.
"For bein' a butthead, what do you think?"
"You call me a butthead, you end up flat on all sides like a GameCube. A broken one. All cube, no game."
Matteo laughs. "I'd like to see that."
"Come to school tomorrow, I'll give you a little demo," Walk tells him.
"I'll be there, man," Matteo says. "I will."
Forty-Three
Kirsten
I tried to talk to my mom, but she was gone all day Sunday on a yoga retreat—didn't even say goodbye. And then as soon as she got back, she was out the door to Madison's mom's house to address auction invitations. Last night she was busy reloading the dishwasher because no one ever loads it the way she likes and filling out a big stack of application forms so Kippy can go to a gifted kids program on Saturdays.
Okay, maybe she wasn't that busy. Maybe I didn't really want to talk to her about this. But I have to talk to someone.
In the kitchen Kippy is standing on the step stool stirring a big mess. She's making the kind of concoction she usually creates with bubble bath and shampoo in the tub only now she's mixing tea bags, coffee grounds, and tuna fish.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"Making compost."
"For what?"
"The tree."
"Oh yeah. The tree. Are Mom and Dad up yet?" I ask, though one look at the kitchen should tell me the answer to that question.
"They had a big fight last night."
"Again?"
"I slept in their room, but it didn't help."
"You sleep in their room so they won't fight?"
She nods.
"Ah, Kip." She looks so small in my old Scooby-Doo pajamas. I put my arm around her and give her a hug. Hey, shouldn't she be dressed? This is a school day.
"Mom's got to drive us to school...," I say.
Kippy shrugs. She cracks an egg and adds the shell to the mess in her jar. "What's the matter with them?" She looks up at me and waits.
"Mom and Dad?"
She nods.
Mom sometimes lies to Kippy. She tells her robbers don't know our address, kids don't ever die, and moms don't have children they don't love. Kip always knows when Mom's feeding her a load of crap, though, and she comes and talks to me about it.
"Mom found out something Dad did a long time ago and she's really mad at him."
"What'd he do?"
I rest my elbows on the counter and watch Kippy. She's grown, I suddenly realize. Her face isn't as round as it used to be. "You hear anything weird when they argued?"
"No. What'd he do?" she asks again.
"I don't know for sure, Kip."
She looks at me, then back at her jar. I can almost feel her thinking terrible things. When you tell Kip you don't know, she figures it's because the glaciers are melting and we won't live through the week, anyway.
"I don't," I repeat, jutting my chin out.
Her eyes continue to stare at me. She doesn't blink.
"Okay, okay...," I say. "Remember that kid Walk who was here doing homework with me last week?"
She nods.
"He's our half brother. His dad is our dad, but he has a different mom." I laugh at this. I laugh so hard I can hardly stand up.
Kippy does not laugh. "Is this a true story?"
I get quiet now. "Yes."
She bites her lip and her eyes go straight up like she's trying to add a big column of numbers in her head. "So Dad's sperm went inside Walk's mom, but how did it get in there?" she whispers.
"God, Kippy, do you have to be so literal?"
"Well?" she asks, her little forehead still furrowed like she's trying to make sense of this.
"Ask Mom about that. Oh no! Don't ask Mom about it! Don't! Don't say
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