Empress of the World by Sara Ryan Read Free Book Online

for her to look at my ankle,” I explain.
    I don’t tell them what the nurse said. I guess we must have looked like we were really enjoying our conversation, because when she was done with the person before us, the first thing she asked was, “Are you here for birth control?” We burst into embarrassed laughter, and Isaac said, “No, pain control,” and pointed to my ankle.
    “So how are we going to do this?” asks Katrina. “Just waltz on up to him and say ‘Hey, big guy, share your pain’?”
    I say, “Maybe if we had some other excuse to be at the river. A picnic? We could get a bunch of candy and stuff from the machines.”
    “You can’t go to the river,” says Battle, suddenly sounding almost angry. “What about your ankle?”
    “The nurse said it was only a mild sprain,” I say. “It’s a lot better.”
    “Fine, just reinjure it, then.” It unnerves me to see Battle toss her hair back in a manner I can only describe as Imperious Cheerleader.
    “It’s Nic’s ankle. I think she’s the one who knows whether or not it’s okay,” Katrina says. Battle glares, but says nothing.
    We acquire a variety of items from the vending machines. The four basic food groups are represented: caffeine, sugar, salt, and fat. “It’d be better if we had alcohol,” Katrina says as she stows cans of soda in her army knapsack. “In wine is truth!”
    “Oh, that’d be just what he needs,” Battle says, “to get wasted when he’s already upset.”
    Katrina shakes her head. “Jeez, go all ‘just say no’ on me, why don’t you, preacher’s daughter?”
    “Shut up,” says Battle, walking away. She stays ahead of us all the way to the river. My ankle only hurts a little, I want to tell her.
    When we find Isaac, the first thing I see is that he’s torn up all the grass around where he’s sitting. Lumps of grass and dirt are everywhere.
    “Hi! We’re having a picnic!” Katrina says brightly.
    “Have it somewhere else.”
    I’m ready to leave. Then Battle says, “We read the letter. Be mad if you want, but we thought you might want to talk.” Meanwhile, Katrina hands him a Ding Dong and a can of Coke.
    Isaac opens the Ding Dong package and peels the chocolate off the top. Then he rolls it up like a cigarette and puts the tip of it in his mouth.
    “Hey, light this one up for me, Katrina,” he says. He sucks it all the way into his mouth, loudly.
    Battle sits down, carefully avoiding the area Isaac has devastated.
    “Do you want us to leave?” asks Katrina.
    Isaac suddenly looks different, in a way I can’t quite define. It’s as though he’s actively shaken off one mood and is trying desperately to put another one on.
    “No—I was just kidding before. You can have your picnic or whatever.” He wipes off the chocolate crumbs from around his mouth and gulps down some Coke.
    “So did you know this was coming?” Battle asks.
    “You guys? No, otherwise I would have had, you know, a picnic blanket all laid out.”
    Battle glares. “Not us. The divorce.”
    Isaac takes a long sip of Coke. “Ah, the breakfast of champions,” he says.
    Katrina and I sit down. I pick up one of Isaac’s dirt-grass lumps and start pulling on individual strands of grass, trying to see if I can pull one all the way out without it snapping.
    “Were they fighting a lot?” Battle persists.
    Isaac takes a huge bite of Ding Dong and says, muffled through it, “Oh no, they were in total and perfect harmony every moment, exhibiting great parenting skills to me and my baby sister. Jesus, what do you think?”
    “Do you have any idea where you want to live yet?” I ask.
    “Yeah. Not with either of them.”
    The dirt-grass lump crumbles in my hands. Now my hands are all covered with dirt, and I don’t have anything to wipe them on but my shorts. I’d rather not. I don’t want to look any sloppier than I do already. I rub my hands together and get most of the dirt off, but they still feel gritty.
    “And I have to write