Girls Don't Fly by Kristen Chandler Read Free Book Online Page A

can’t stand silence.
    She keeps her hunched back to me. She says, “I thought you knew.”
    “I’m not going to guess about this.”
    “Haven’t you ever wondered about my birthday?”
    I stand up alongside Mel. I am six inches taller than she is now. It’s like talking to one of the boys. I say, “I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about your birthday.”
    She puts her hands in her pockets. “I mean, have you ever wondered about that story Mom and Dad tell about how I was premature?”
    I say, “Why would I wonder about that? Mom miscarries if you look at her wrong.”
    “Because I wasn’t seven weeks early.”
    It takes a second for this to sink in. Then I say, “You’re kidding, right?” Mel doesn’t laugh. I sit back down on the floor in between all my unmatched socks. Mel sits down next to me.
    Mel lowers her voice and puts her head close to mine. “Mom told me when I was fourteen. She wanted to scare me. I thought she’d tell you too.”
    “Mom was pregnant when they got married? Are you sure?”
    “I don’t think she’d lie about it,” she says.
    I pick up a sock in my hand and squeeze it. Moms aren’t supposed to start off their families by getting knocked up. At least not my mom. She gets mad if I wear my swimming suit to the city pool without a tank top. And what about my dad? The engineer who never does anything illogical, immoral, or embarrassing?
    There is too much in my head to fit it all.
    “I’m not like her,” says Mel. “I’m not going to marry Zeke and have a bunch of kids just because of this. No way. That’s what I’m saying. You don’t have to take the hand you get, just because you got it. Going on this trip ...”
    I stand back up. I have to get out of this house. Everything is dirty in this house. “Who cares about this trip? You just told me Mom was knocked up when she got married.”
    “Lower your voice, hysterics girl. It’s not like it doesn’t happen. I’m just saying you have to make your own rules, you know. You don’t have to settle.”
    I walk out of the room. I stand in the hallway that is barricaded by my brothers’ toys. There are messes everywhere. I can’t get out and there is nowhere to go. I walk back in and get a laundry basket. I start throwing my clothes in the basket as fast as I can.
    “You can’t tell Mom I told you.”
    I grab a stack of shirts and fling them into my basket. “Just stop talking. I’m moving to the basement.”
    My mother walks into the room. “What’s going on? Why do you two have to yell?”
    I look at my mother and I feel so incredibly lied to. She had to marry Dad. He had to marry her. No wonder he married her. And then they kept having us. If she hadn’t miscarried so often there might be a school bus of us.
    Mel says, “Myra’s moving to the basement.”
    Mom shakes her head. “I’m sorry you can’t keep the room to yourself, Myra. I am. I know you like things clean. But what else are we going to do?”
    “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m moving downstairs.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    My mother glares at both of us. As if we’re five and seven again. Same old story: Melyssa starts the fire and I take the heat. My mom’s tired eyes rest on me. “It’s not a perfect world for any of us.”
    “No kidding,” I say.
    I grab my jeans and throw them on my growing pile. The basement is unfinished so it’s filthy and about two degrees warmer than sleeping outside. It’s filled with stacks of things we don’t know what to do with. The windows are small and the light is dim. It has spiders. But it will be quiet. It will be away from Melyssa and my mom.
    BBD (before being dumped) I could escape from here with Erik. Now there is nowhere to go but down.
    I step over my brother’s toys and walk to the basement door. I kick it open with my foot and begin my descent.

11
     
    Pecking Order:
     
    Who’s in charge.
     
     
    At five I look over at my alarm clock vibrating on the cement floor.