Don't Call Me Mother Read Online Free PDF Page A

turn their curious eyes toward me. I stop chewing in mid-bite, feeling sick. Vera leaves the room again. Terry and Bruce come over to pound their fists on my head, chanting, “Bacon and eggs, bacon and eggs, you’ve got to eat your bacon and eggs.” I sink down, trying to escape, but they keep it up, cackling and making fun of me. I manage to keep from crying.
    When she comes back, Vera tells them to sit down. “Get busy and eat those eggs. We can sit here all day.” She spoons the eggs in front of me.
    “Open your mouth. Hurry up.”
    She sticks the spoon in my mouth. My throat closes and I start to gag.
    “Don’t you dare throw that up! I’ll whale you a good one.”
    I think of Gram’s face, her smile, how she called me “Sugar Pie.” Somehow the food goes down.

    At school a few weeks later, the room swims in a cottony fog. I blink to clear the fog, trying to stay upright. Suddenly the teacher’s face is a few inches away, and she insists that I come with her to the nurse’s office to take my temperature. The office seems far away in a mist. The nurse takes my temperature, tells me I have a fever and have to go home. If I go home early, Vera will kill me. I’d be ruining her routine. These smiling ladies would never believe what goes on in that house, or that my “mother” would be angry at me for being sick. I decide that if I walk very slowly, I’ll get home close to the time that school gets out, and she’ll never know I left early. The nice teacher and nurse put a stop to my fantasy of making it work out for myself by offering me a ride. I keep saying no, but they rush me into my coat and send me out to the car.
    Each step brings me closer to Vera and her rage. She does not like outsiders. I know these ladies are trying to be nice, but they have no idea how much trouble they are getting me into. The nurse knocks on the door. Vera acts nice and friendly, smiles her thanks. No one would ever guess what she’s really like.
    When the car’s gone, she hisses. “So, you managed to come home early, did you? I had a little surprise planned for you and Betsy—riding sleds and making a snowman, but no, you have to get sick. Go to your room and stay there. You won’t be coming with us.” She looks triumphant for some reason, with a glint of pleasure in her eyes.
    I’d rather play and have fun, but the world is fuzzy and I’m so tired. I look out my bedroom window to see Vera and Betsy playing in the snow. My breath frosts the window glass. Gram would have made me soup and tucked me into bed. Where are the people who care for me? Do they remember me?
     
    Everyone plays the happy-face game when company comes for parties. Being with other people in a normal way cheers me up. One family has a sixteen-year-old boy named Freddie. He’s always paying attention to me, reading and playing games. He’s nicer than the boys I live with. After hamburgers, when the adults are playing card games, he kneels down and says, “Hey, show me the ping-pong table in the basement. Let’s go!”
    He’s big and leads me protectively into the murky basement. He tells me that we’re going to play the tickle game, and that I should get on the bed. I am not sure about this, but I lie down and he lies beside me. He says to close my eyes. I feel his fingers moving along my ribs, and I break into a giggle. Then I feel a brush of air on my leg. I open my eyes and yank down my dress.
    “This game is about the alphabet letters on your underpants.” He grins as he pulls up my dress again. “This is part of the game; it won’t hurt. Just let me see them. Oh, they’re cute. Here’s a red ‘B’ and a yellow ‘A’. Do you know your letters?”
    Of course I do. Does he think I’m stupid? I try to squirm away from him and sit up.
    “It’s okay, just lie back.” He keeps playing the lift-up-my-dress game. Part of my mind watches us, another part is thinking about Vera. If she sees this, she’ll beat me for sure. Freddie