sure I was careful not to lean back, or it would only make the bruises worse.
Turning back around, I cupped cool water in my hands and splashed it on my face. The temperature stung my sensitive skin, but I knew that the coldness would help the mark on my cheek that would only upset Kevin further. After several more soakings, the puffiness around my cheek seemed to dissipate somewhat, and I didn’t look quite as scary. Using the towel off the rack, I dried up all the water off the laminate counter and straightened up the bathroom before I headed back to my room.
“What took so long?” Kevin asked worriedly as I closed the pocket door behind me.
“Hey, just girl stuff,” I said, trying to ease his mind.
Wise beyond his years, he studied me critically before answering. “You sure?” he finally asked.
“I’m sure, punk,” I said affectionately, sliding back on my bed so I could prop myself up gingerly against the headboard. “Let’s eat. I’m famished,” I said once I was as comfortable as I was going to get.
Kevin smiled, crawling up next to me. He opened the bag and distributed the now flattened sandwiches as I crunched up our dry soup and poured it into clear sandwich bags. I tore the corner of the seasoning packet open with my mouth and dumped the contents in the bag. Sealing it up tightly, I handed it over to Kevin so he could shake it up. I made quick work out of the second soup package, and we were soon eating.
Glancing at my watch, I was dismayed to see that it was already past eight. Nothing like waiting twelve hours to eat, I thought wryly as Kevin wolfed his meal down with gusto. We polished off the milk and threw all our trash in the empty grocery bag and settled back on my bed. Within seconds, Kevin’s eyes became heavy and he drifted off to sleep. I fought to keep mine open, but the turmoil of the evening had taken its toll on me and they slowly started to drift closed.
My eyes jerked open several hours later when I heard my bedroom door being slid open. I watched as Lucinda tiptoed in quietly. The storm had passed and I could see the remorse on her face.
“I’m really sorry I hit you, Katelyn,” she said quietly, being careful not to wake Kevin.
“I know, Mom,” I whispered back.
“I just got so angry when I saw you had dumped milk all over the floor when we just barely got here.”
“I know, Mom,” I repeated, not bothering to tell her that Jim had bumped into me during their fight. By her passive behavior, I could tell they had made up, and it would do me no good to point a finger.
“You just have to be careful. We don’t know if the state will come check up on this place since they’re letting us stay here. Remember what happened in Texas.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I'll be more careful,” I said, not daring to point out that we had gotten kicked out of the housing in Texas when she designated herself the neighborhood animal rescuer, letting the entire house be overrun with strays she kept taking in.
“And I'll try not to let myself get so angry at your mistakes,” she said. “Do you want me to take him to his bed?” she asked as an afterthought, indicating Kevin.
“Nah, he’s okay. He can try his new room out tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night,” I said, reaching over to switch on my travel alarm as she turned off the bedroom light on her way out.
“It wasn’t your fault the milk spilled,” Kevin whispered quietly in the dark.
“I know, but at least she’s happy again. She just feels bad that she hit me and needs it to be for a reason,” I said, trying to justify her actions.
“I hate her when she hits you.”
“No, you don’t. You just don’t like it,” I said, scolding him softly.
“Why do you defend her?”
“Because she’s our mom, if we don’t defend her, who will?”
“Well, I still don’t like her to hit you,” he added stubbornly.
“I know, but better me than you with your chicken arms,” I
William K. Klingaman, Nicholas P. Klingaman
John McEnroe;James Kaplan