Morning — it’s coffee and medication before thieving time from the new day. Albert shakes pills in his left hand like dice and looks out of the kitchen window to a yellow carpet of ginkgo leaves rimed with the first… Continue Reading
The substitute teacher only tells us Miss Rawley is having a difficult time, but we already know why. Fifth grade is a room full of rumors, and we are sure this one is true. We’ve watched the video news clip… Continue Reading
My mother-in-law is a riot. Our first time in New York together, she goes to see the landlord about the rapidly fading battery in the automated door lock and comes back with a date. She makes and consumes coffee late… Continue Reading
“Join hands for prayers,” said Grandma Mercy. Little Thomas cringed. He hated saying prayers before meals, especially in public. Worse, the server had put the steaming pepperoni pizza with extra cheese right under his nose. How could anyone pray with… Continue Reading
Sid’s stout appearance had landed him the role of Hanuman in his elementary school’s abridged re-enactment of Ramayana. He hated his teacher for dabbing his cheeks red with face paint and parading him dressed as a cute little monkey god… Continue Reading
Mikey sits in the backseat of his father’s T-Bird, smoking a joint. His mohawk, the near-white color of lime sorbet, glows orange briefly in the dark. Earlier today Mikey shoved an older boy up against a locker so hard that… Continue Reading
My older sister Kolt storms into the kitchen like an angry ostrich, all neck and ruffled feathers and big round eyes. Her fists are balled, her face splotchy red, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She’s barefoot. I bite… Continue Reading
After the sun goes down, Mummy and I sit in the dark. I brush my hair, then my dolly’s, then mummy’s, slicing through the strands with my comb. When I hear Daddy’s key in the lock, I know it’s time… Continue Reading
“It’s left foot forward and two steps back.” Cecily looks at her feet. She’s six and a half — seven next Wednesday. Leo says you have to know your left from your right by the time you’re seven or you’ll… Continue Reading
I’ve never shot a gun, and suddenly, Quinton is pressing the grip of a long-nosed revolver into my palm. I don’t anticipate its weight. The chilly steel. We’re cousins, but I’m new to life in Parched River. I’m used to… Continue Reading