Trauma Queen by Barbara Dee Read Free Book Online Page B

cried. And I ran out the door after Emma and her mother.
    But they were already gone.
    I ran around the block a few times, searching for them, not knowing where to go. It was a drizzly and chilly night, but I sure didn’t want to go back inside the Café, so finally, after about ten minutes, I just went home. First thing when I got back to the apartment, I called Emma’s house. (Emma didn’t have a cell anymore because she kept losing them, and Mrs. Hartley had decided to teach her a lesson about Personal Responsibility.) One of Emma’s four slobby brothers—I think it was Seth—answered and promised to give Emma the message. So I waited. But she never called back. Then I tried calling her house again. And then again, about twenty minutes later. But both times the phone just rang and rang.
    So that’s how I knew that she was really, really mad. Not just at Mom, but amazingly, at me. Even though I hadn’t known anything about Mom’s performance ahead of time. Even though, as soon as I’d figured it out, I’d begged Emma to leave.
    So I started to cry. Which is not something I did very often. But this was a special occasion.
    I thought about calling Dad right then. He’d be the perfect person to talk to, I thought, because he totally understood about Mom. But it was a Saturday night. He was probably out somewhere with The Horrible Mona Woman, if he happened to be in town. And anyway, even if he was around to answer, he was a picture person, not a word person, and especially not a words-on-the-telephone person. So I stopped dialing his cell mid-number, and called Gram instead.
    â€œOh, cookie,” she said as soon as she heard my voice. “What happened ?”
    â€œYour daughter just ruined my life,” I said, bursting into tears all over again. Finally I stopped crying and told her about the Two Beez Café.
    She listened, making little tsk, tsk sounds every once in a while, so I could tell she was still there. Then she said, “Well, Becca is a very difficult person sometimes. This is not news, Mari.”
    â€œI know!”
    â€œShe put you in a terrible spot with your friend. And there’s never any excuse for humiliating anybody. Especially in public.”
    â€œI know.” Gram was great.
    â€œBut it sounds to me as if your friend’s mom dealt a low blow. And struck first.”
    â€œWhat?” I sniffled. “Anyway, so what if she did?”
    â€œWell, nobody insults your mom’s art. We may not always care for it, honey, but it’s who she is.”
    I didn’t answer.
    â€œAnd nobody, I mean nobody, insults her as a mother. That’s what she cares about more than anything .”
    I wiped my nose. “Well, if she cares about being a mother so much, why did she just wreck the best friendship I ever had?”
    â€œOh, Marigold. If Emma is really your best friend, she’ll calm down. And she’ll realize you had nothing to do with Becca’s performance.”
    â€œOkay,” I said doubtfully. “But what if she doesn’t?”
    â€œShe will. Just give your friend some time.”
    â€œOkay.” It wasn’t like I had much of a choice, anyway.
    â€œAnd Mari?” She paused. “Will you do something for me, cookie? Try sometimes to understand your mom’s point of view.”
    â€œ Her point of view?”
    Gram laughed. “She has one, strangely enough.”
    By the time Mom and Kennedy got home from the Two Beez about a half hour later, Gram had called Mom on her cell, so she had some microscopic clue about what I was feeling.
    â€œOh, Mari, try not to overreact,” she said as she scrubbed off her makeup in the bathroom. “Everyone thought Nu-Trisha was hilarious. Beau and Bobbi said it was maybe my best performance ever.”
    â€œYeah?” I said. “Well, Mrs. Hartley didn’t think it was funny.”
    â€œShe will when she has a chance to