talking about her mother.
Somehow the two were linked in her mind. Two bad news characters, I guess.
Except I knew that Hope really cared about Darryl.
âI donât know what made me think of Momâs nickname for me,â Hope said, pacing the room. âBut that wasnât the worst thing she did.â
I realized Hope wasnât talking to Jasmine and me. She was actually talking to herself.
Jasmine lowered her head to her book. But I turned away from the desk to listen to Hope.
âMom was so obsessed by my weight,â Hope said, shaking her head. âShe was as skinny as a rail. Really. She was as skinny as Angel. And I donât know why it bothered her so much that she had a chubby daughter. Maybe I looked like my dad or something. I donât know.â
Jasmine raised her head again. âYou donât know what your dad looked like?â
Hope shook her head. âI never met him. And Mom never kept any snapshots around.â She let out a bitter laugh and started pacing again.
âOne day I brought three kids home after school,â Hope continued. âI guess I was in fourth or fifth grade. I donât remember.â
She thought for a moment, then went on. âIt was a hot day, and we were all hungry. So I took out a half-gallon box of ice cream from the freezer. And I dished out big bowls of chocolate ice cream for everyone.
âWell, we were all sitting around the kitchen table. We had just started eating the ice cream when Mom popped in. She looked around the table at my friends. Then she had a total fit that I was eating ice cream.
âShe started screaming and carrying on, calling me Buttertubs in front of my friends. Then she grabbed up their ice cream bowls. Took the ice cream away from my friends and shoved all the bowls in front of me.
ââYou like ice cream so much?â Mom screamed. âWell, go aheadâeat them all.â
âShe stood over me and forced me to eat all four bowls of ice cream,â Hope continued, her mouth twisted angrily as she remembered the story.
âMy friends wanted to leave. I mean, my mother was scaring them! But she made them all stay at the kitchen table and watch me.
âI started to cry. But Mom didnât care. She made me eat while I was crying. She made me eat all four bowls of ice cream while my friends stared in shock.
âThen, when I had choked down the last spoonful, Mom grabbed my headâand shoved my face into the ice cream carton. She pressed my head down and made me finish the carton. Made me lap it upâlike a dogâuntil Iâd finished it all.â
I gasped. âYouâre kidding!â
But I could see by her expression that she wasnât kidding. The horrible story was true.
âWow,â Jasmine muttered from her bed. âWow.â
Hope turned her back to us. Her shoulders were trembling. She swept both hands back through her unbrushed blond hair.
âThatâs why I donât write home to Mom,â she said in a choked whisper.
I gazed down at the letter Iâd started.
Dear Mom,
it said.
Thereâs been a little trouble here at school. A boy was murdered outside our dorm. But I donât want you to worry. I think
Thatâs as far as Iâd gotten.
âHeyâletâs go out,â Hope suggested. She forced a smile to her face. âCome on, guys. Some fresh air. Letâs go.â
âI canât,â Jasmine said. âI have to finish this chapter. Besides, itâs late.â
Hopeâs face fell in disappointment. She turned to me. âHow about you, Eden?â
I hesitated. I wanted to finish my letter and take a long, hot bath. But I decided that cheering up Hope was more important.
âOkay,â I told her, jumping up. âIâll get a sweat-shirt. Letâs go out.â
That brought a smile to her face.
I crossed the room to my dresser and pulled out a blue-and-gold Ivy State