Pretending Normal by Mary Campisi Read Free Book Online Page B

she dangled Peter’s name in my face that she’d want more than two tank tops. Well, let Frank find out she’s missed her curfew. I don’t care, damn her.
    “Sara!”
    The screen door flies open and Frank stumbles into the kitchen, drink sloshing over the sides of his glass. I paste a smile on my face and turn.
    He falls into his chair, face flushed and sweaty. “Whew, it’s damn hot out there.” He filches a pack of Camel’s from his shirt pocket, taps one out, and shoves it between his lips. He strikes the front of a Zippo with his thumb and a blue and yellow flame shoots up. The cigarette glows bright, brighter, until the tip of it burns orange. “You gonna smoke when you get older, Sara?” His eyes are half-closed, his lips half-open.
    “No.”
    “Good.” Pause. “Drink?”
    “No.”
    His laugh is thin, weightless as it fills the room. “So, you’re not going to drink, not even a little now and then?”
    I shrug . “Probably not.” If I can get him to bed, I can sit on the front porch and wait for Kay.
    “Good.” His head dips, nods, and his chin tucks in like a second grader learning how to do a somersault. Just when I think he is dozing off, his head shoots up, his eyes more bloodshot than gray. “My old man was a drinker. Did I ever tell you that?” 
    “You told me.”
    “He was a bastard.”
    Like father like son .
    “Where’s your sister?”
    “She’s in bed,” I say.
    “Where did she go tonight?”
    “ Benny’s. She wanted to get a hot dog.”
    He blows out a thin line of smoke. “We don’t have hot dogs here?”
    I look away. “She wanted to get out for a little while.”
    “ Hmmph.” He shakes his head. “That girl always wants to run. Not like you.”
    Right. Not like me. “She just wants to see her friends.” Why am I defending her? I am so twisted. I hear the front door squeak open.
    “What the hell’s that?”
    “I don’t know.” Look at me, a liar and an actor. “I’ll go see.” I hurry out of the kitchen and there is Kay, sandals in hand, wobbling toward the stairs.
    “Sara? Somebody there?”
    Kay freezes, her eyes locked on mine. “It’s just the wind, I guess.” I make a quick motion with my hand, mouth Go, then I am moving past her, pulling the screen door shut, all the while trying to understand what I have just seen. And then it hits me. My sister is drunk.
    ***
    “ What are you doing? ” Kay’s lifeless form sprawls across the bed. “Hey.” I shake her shoulder. “Wake up.”
    She inches one eye open, closes it again. “Go away.”
    I grab her shoulder and hip, force her over. “Start talking. Now.”
    “What?” she hisses, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “So, I’m a little late. So what?” She snatches her pillow, folds it in half and props her head on it.
    “You’re drunk.”
    She turns her head and her hair falls over her face again so I can’t see her expression. “Leave me alone.”
    I yank a chunk of hair from her face. “ What’s wrong with you? Do you want to end up like him?”
    She shrugs. “Everybody who takes a drink doesn’t end up like him.”
    “You’re thirteen.”
    “And a half. Thirteen and a half.”
    “Where did you get it?” I bet Rudy Minnoni is behind this.
    Kay flops onto her back and lets out a chuckle that turns into a hiccough. “It was just a beer. One. A Bud.” She smacks her lips, lets out another little chuckle. “And I liked it.”
    “Who gave it to you?” When she doesn’t answer I snatch her purse from the edge of the bed. It’s the satchel type, big and bulky, the kind that can hold a lot. Even a beer.
    “Hey!” She tries to push herself off the bed, falls back. “Leave that alone!”
    I yank open the drawstring, flip the bag over, and dump the contents on the bed—wallet, comb, lipstick, pack of Wrigley’s, pocket-size calendar and a small plastic bag with two black capsules in it.
    “That’s mine!” She lunges at me, misses and lands stomach first on the edge of the