Cut, Crop & Die by Joanna Campbell Slan Read Free Book Online

rang. “It’s my sister over in Indiana wanting to talk about what to get our daddy for his birthday. I’ll tell you more about my baby brother later. Got to run.”
    “Um, one last question.”
    “Shoot. But make it quick-like.”
    “Do I have bad breath?”
    “Not that I ever noticed. But don’t you dare plant a big French smooch on me so I can find out.”

    “Remember, no Sesame Street ,” I cautioned Anya as I finished making our dinner. The chicken drumettes in my crock pot were cooking in honey-mustard sauce, and the homemade cole slaw chilled in the refrigerator. I stirred a half gallon pitcher of water until the brown peach tea powder dissolved. A bowl of cut-up cantaloupe sat in the middle of the table. For dessert we had frozen bananas dipped in chocolate in the freezer. It might not be gourmet fare, but it was wholesome and economical.
    “I’m not hungry,” my daughter stopped protesting when she saw the look on my face. Anya was underweight. The school nurse had been worried enough to call me and query about her eating habits right before the academic year ended. Since then, my child and I had had a talk about taking good care of our health. As a result, Anya had promised to eat—or at least to try to eat—something at every meal.
    Now she avoided my glare of reproach by watching Guy bounce around the kitchen like one of those superballs you buy for a quarter from a gumball machine. He was literally running up the walls and turning flips. Guy landed on Anya’s feet, springing up at her like a kid on a pogo stick. Obviously, he’d discovered the girl of his dreams.
    “I think I’ll take him for a walk.” At the mall, she’d used her money from Sheila to buy a new pair of flip-flops. They were cute, with sequins and big silk flowers in shades of blue and green. I suspected she wanted to practice walking in them so she didn’t embarrass herself.
    I hesitated. I didn’t like the thought of her being out alone.
    Anya read my mind. “Mo-om. I’ll be right out in front of the house. Geez. Give me a break. I’m practically a prisoner in my own home! And look, see? Here’s my cell phone, all charged and everything!” With that she flounced out, slamming the front door behind her.
    Gracie turned doleful eyes on me. I knew exactly how she felt. Her floppy ears drooped, and she set her big blocky head on her paws, watching the front door as though it were a living thing.
    “Hey, girl, I guess we better get used to this, huh? Our baby is growing up.”

FIVE
    THAT DARLING DAUGHTER OF mine woke up the next morning loaded for bear. Anya snarled every half-mile of our journey to the Science Center. “This place is for babies. Everyone else in my school is going to camp in Wisconsin or hanging at the mall. I hate this! Hate it! I don’t want to make clay models of the solar system and electric toys using batteries. It’s stooo-pid. And you’re mean to make me go.”
    Gripping the steering wheel hard so I wouldn’t be tempted to smack her, I said softly, “As long as that killer is loose, you aren’t like everyone else and neither am I.”
    “Huh, you just use that as an excuse.”
    I didn’t respond. She might be onto something. Hey, a crazed serial killer had a lot more elephants than “I don’t want you to go away for the summer because I’ll miss you” or “You can’t hang around the mall because you might get into mischief,” right? Wasn’t I within my parental rights to drum up whatever excuse I thought I could get away with?
    At least I didn’t stoop to say, “Because I’m the MOM.” But I thought about it.
    When I didn’t take the bait, Anya turned her face away from me and stared out the window. Her jaw was set, her lower lip poked out. A few minutes passed. Then, in the sweetest voice imaginable, she asked, “Can we stop at McDonald’s?”
    I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. That mood swing took all of a few deep breaths. Oh, boy. And this was a preview of