Beth and I let Lena win.
Dear God
,
I started my new job today, since I was still grounded yet, Only I didn’t get to paint. Before I can paint there’s a lot of other stuff to do. Today I swept and hosed all the dirt and spider webs off the garage. When Lena came out to watch I hosed her off, too. She liked it. At least she kept coming back for more until Beth told us to quit goofing off.
I’m a little hungry because I didn’t eat any meat or bread all day, not even one of the fresh cinnamon buns Grandma baked. Don’t get me wrong–I’m not complaining, I just wanted you to know. Anyways, I didn’t miss much. Supper was leftover stew, I only ate the vegetables
.
Beth didn’t notice that I snooped through her drawers and swiped some of her things. You know what I mean, I found a little instruction sheet in the box. It has pictures and everything, so I think I’ll be okay when the time comes, I’m sorry for taking them without asking. I didn’t know what else to do. I promise to replace her stuff as soon as I can.
We apologized to the Funks today. I guess you know that. Reverend Funk said to leave our troubles in God’s hands. Sometimes I wonder how your hands can hold all the bad thingsin the world. Sometimes I wonder if my mother being sick is so small a problem compared to all the other problems in the world that it might slip out between your fingers.
I’m sorry, God. Please cleanse my heart from doubt and other sins, like the reverend said. I know you’ll do what’s best for my mother. Please help me understand your will.
Amen.
“I ’m thinking about becoming a vegetarian,” I told Dad and Beth at lunch the next day, “so I’ll need some stuff from the grocery store.” Grandma was there, too. She’d come over because she said our windows needed a good washing.
I’d written out a list: nuts, macaroni and cheese, pork and beans (without the pork), fruit, yogurt, ice cream, chocolate bars–stuff like that. We had lots of vegetables in the garden already, so I didn’t need to put any on the list.
“Think again,” Beth said, handing the list back.
“Daaad.”
“Don’t be silly, Elsie. Eat your lunch.” He didn’t look up from his newspaper even.
Lunch was Klik and lettuce bunwiches with carrot sticks and the leftover chocolate cake from Auntie Nettie. I took the lettuce out of the sandwich. “I told you, I’mgiving up meat for a while. Bread, too.” The piece of limp lettuce didn’t look all that appetizing, but I chomped down on it to make a point.
Beth snorted. “Since when?”
I ignored her. “This is all healthy stuff. Mostly, anyways. See, Dad?” I shoved the list in front of his nose. “Don’t you want me to eat healthy? Especially when I’m working so hard?” I was working hard. I’d used the wire brush Dad had given me to scrape loose paint off the garage siding all morning.
“How did you get a cockamamie idea like this in your head?” Dad sighed.
I shrugged, wondering what to say that wouldn’t be a lie exactly. “I want to try it. Can’t I try it for awhile even?”
Grandma’s beady little eyes were even beadier than usual, watching me close.
“You’ve got a screw loose if you think I’m going to make special meals just for you,” said Beth.
Beth had used up any good feelings I had left over from yesterday. “I’ll make my own meals. Promise.”
“It’ll take us all summer to eat what we have already.” Dad nodded at the piles of food on the counter that church members and neighbors and relatives had brought over in the last two days–
platz
, cookies, cakes, buns. There were casseroles,
hollopchee, varenika
, and at least three pies in the freezer. It was enough to make me wonder if there was maybe a commandment I didn’t know about that said you had to bring food to your neighbors when someonewas sick. Only problem was that most of it had meat in it. Or else it was bread.
I was desperate. “If Mom was here she’d buy me this
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley