Partial parents
Chapter One
I stood there at Mom’s bedside and just let it
rip:
“Seriously, Mom? Always with the drama?
You’re nothing but a pain in my ass.”
“And don’t even think I’ve got time for this.
Go bother your golden child.”
Heads swivelled.
I could practically feel the daggers shooting
out of their eyes.
Mom went all wounded puppy dog on me, her
voice cracking.
Г
“How can you talk to me like that? I’m your
mother!”
I stared back, my face a mask.
“Twenty years ago, right here in this dump,
those were your words to me.”
“Ring any bells?”
Her face crumpled, her whole bluster
deflating like a punctured balloon.
She mumbled something.
“You hold a grudge way too long…”
I didn’t say a word, just spun on my heel and
bailed.
L
Outside, the weather was total crap.
Fog so thick you could chew it, the air all
sticky and gross.
Exactly like the day I landed in this hospital
myself.
You ever have one of those memories that
just won’t quit?
It’s like, burned into your brain, so vivid it
feels like it happened yesterday.
I was in eighth grade the last time I was here.
Woke up that morning with a gut ache from
hell.
In our house I made breakfast
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In our house, I made breakfast.
Mom said she and Dad were “too tired” from
work.
I asked her once why Tommy didn’t have to
help.
Mom just rolled her eyes, like I was the
dumbest person on earth.
“He’s growing, Ashley! And besides, he’s got
so much homework.”
Seriously?
Tommy and I were twins, I popped out like
five minutes before him.
And I was the one pulling straight A’s, while
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he was barely scraping by.
What homework was she talking about?
But, whatever.
I knew the drill: I was second–class.
So, like always, I dragged my butt out of bed
to make breakfast before school.
Except this morning, no freaking way.
This pain was like someone was stabbing me
from the inside.
I couldn’t take it.
I passed out, dead to the world.
Next thing I know, I’m getting the crap kicked
out of me.
Someone was hammering on my ribs with
their damn foot.
I opened my eyes, and there was Mom,
standing over me, hands on her hips.
She looked at me like I was her worst enemy.
Before I could even get a word out, she was
screaming.
“Why aren’t you making breakfast?! You
trying to make Tommy late for school?!”
I was soaked in sweat, practically whimpering.
“Mom, my stomach’s killing me. Can you take
L
Mom just laughed, like it was the funniest
thing she’d ever heard.
She yanked the covers off me, all sarcastic.
“Oh, sure, anything to get out of doing
chores. You just want Tommy to starve. What
good are you, you ungrateful little brat?”
