Keep Holding On Read Online Free PDF Page A

she is. Her parents basically buy her whatever she wants. She even has her own credit card.
    Right after I turned sixteen last year, I got a job. Mother told me I had to start saving for college. But I wanted to work. It was understood that she wouldn’t be helping me pay for college or anything else.
    At the end of last summer, I went to the bank to take out some money for back-to-school clothes. You can’t set up your own bank account until you’re eighteen, so mother set up the account for me when I got my first paycheck. I couldn’t believe I didn’t even have to ask her to do that for me. It was the first kind thing she’d ever done.
    I followed one of the customer service people to her desk tomake the withdrawal because I didn’t have a bank card. All of the desks looked the same. No one had any pictures or toys or anything. It seemed like a pretty depressing place to work.
    The customer service rep tapped her keyboard.
    She said, “There are no funds in that account.”
    “What?”
    “The account has a balance of zero.”
    “But that’s my savings account.”
    She tapped her keyboard some more.
    “When was the last time you made a withdrawal?” she asked.
    “I’ve never made a withdrawal.” My heart was pounding. My throat was tight. It was getting hard to breathe. “I’ve been saving for college.”
    “Let’s see … it looks like your mother set up this account for you as a minor, correct?”
    I nodded.
    “She’s been withdrawing funds bi-weekly since your first deposit.”
    There were times when I’d been furious with mother before. Her neglect was disgusting. But this was a whole new level of furious.
    When I got home, mother was drinking a glass of red wine on the couch, staring at nothing.
    “Why did you steal my money?” I said.
    Mother didn’t even bother to look up at me when she said, “It’s not your money.” She drank more wine.
    “Of course it is! It’s from my job!”
    “Handing people hot pretzels at the mall isn’t a real job.”
    “Um, I get paid? So that’s a real job.”
    “Well, I’m the one paying rent around here. Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”
    “What does the rent have to do with saving for college?”
    “College?” mother scoffed. “That was rent money.”
    Blood pounded in my head. I was shaking all over.
    “What kind of a freak
are
you?” I yelled. “It’s not my responsibility to pay the rent! I’m only sixteen! You’re the mother! You’re supposed to take care of me!”
    “How dare you talk to me that way,” mother calmly told the wall.
    “I want my money back.”
    “Too late. It’s gone.”
    “I can’t believe you stole my money! You’re insane!” I stormed off to The Fortress and slammed my door. Then I opened it and slammed it again even harder, just like mother did that night she scared me so hard I couldn’t go back to sleep.
    But the slamming wasn’t loud enough to wake her up.

    The knife is sharp. I’m using a new one tonight.
    This is the best way I know how to get lost when I need to escape.
    I stick the tip of the X-Acto knife in. I place my index finger on top of the blade and press down hard.
    The cardboard pops, then crunches. All I know is that I want this shape to be some sort of squiggle. I’ll let the knife take me where it wants to go. The squiggle will be the newest addition tomy standing mobile. My neighbors were throwing out this little yellow chair last week. I saw it by their garbage when I was coming home. That night after it got dark, I snuck out and snatched the chair. Now it’s the base for all these shapes extending from the chair, suspended by wire.
    Calder did these eclectic standing mobiles I adore. I have a thing for simple, modern designs. I’m fascinated by how he combined art and science to create these perfectly balanced objects of beauty. His mobiles have totally inspired mine. I mostly make hanging ones. Since I can’t hang my mobiles from the ceiling, I have them hanging