Pride and Joy

Mom used to pick me up from school with a string cheese and juice box for my snack. She would ask me about my day, her eyes watching me in her little driving mirror, calling me her Little Bug. But she was busier than before. Busy is a grown-up word for when you don’t smile anymore. And, I got old enough. When you’re nine years old you don’t need to be picked up from school anymore. That’s what I heard mom tell dad one day while they were having a fight.

So I walk home from school, but I don’t like to get there too fast. I make my feet go slower than normal. I know one day when I get there, dad will be gone and not coming back.

I tell myself jokes on the way home and step on all the sidewalk cracks even though my desk partner Frankie said it was bad luck. But Frankie doesn’t know anything about bad luck cause I saw his mom and his dad come to our second grade talent show and they gave him a kiss. He got all red and wiped it off with his sleeve but I remember thinking I wouldn’t have done that. I would never have wiped it off.

I am walking home when I find a kitty on the sidewalk. She is black with a white middle so I name her Oreo. My kitty is so happy to come with me, she holds on with her little claws in my sweater, poking holes, looking up at me with grass colored eyes. It’s so fun to walk together and not alone. Oreo is warm and she makes little sounds when I tell her my jokes like she’s laughing with me. “What do you call a husband, Oreo? A rotten deadbeat, that’s what. And what do you call a wife? An ungrateful mess. Those are funny jokes, aren’t they?”

When I get to my street, I get all nervous and my hands get wet and cold. I had always asked for a pet, and mom always said no. Absolutely not! I will not have a filthy animal stinking up my house. But our house already smells like burned chicken and the new man with sour breath. His hair always looks wet even when it’s dry. He comes over to eat dinner and sits in Dad’s chair. Then they go on dates. Since she has him, it is only fair for me to have Oreo.

Dad never wanted a pet either. I already have enough mouths to feed, I am not adding on a useless animal. They are always yelling about Child Support which is a grown-up word for having lots of mouths. Dad has so many now because he is having a baby with a different lady. She has red lips and smells like lemons. And she hates me.

I don’t want to wait any longer, but I can’t get enough air in. I know I can’t let them see Oreo, can’t let them take her away.

Oreo fits in my backpack pretty good, I just had to move some stuff. I set her on the bottom and put my books and lunch box on top so she’ll be extra safe and warm.

And then I walk up to the front door and open it. My hands shake like they do when I get sick. I feel like I will be sick now and throw up all over the rug, but I hold it in.

The front room is full of people, Mom and dad are there with the new man and lady they spend their time with now. Also two lawyers with shiny bags and angry looks. Lawyer is a grown-up word for a person who breaks things apart.

Nobody really looks my way as I stand by the front door. I wait a long while cause I am wishing so hard for mom and dad to come over and give me a hug and say how was school, Little Bug? But they don’t and so I go up to my room cause I can’t wait forever.

I hear dad’s voice say, “You cannot take my little girl from me, I am her father!”

“Yeah, well, you will never see her again if I have anything to say about it. She is my pride and joy and you will not get custody!”

I want to take Oreo out of her spot so bad, but I worry mom and dad will burst through my door and fling her away. “We just have to wait a little longer,” I tell Oreo, patting my backpack real soft. “I can’t let you out just yet, Little Bug.”

My room gets darker so I turn on the light and sit. I try to tell more jokes, but there doesn’t seem like enough reasons to laugh. I am turning into a busy grown-up. The door slams and it shakes everything. I run over to the window to see most everyone leaving, first Dad and the lady, and then the lawyers. They stomp away in a line like they are playing Follow The Leader. I watch as all the cars drive down the street and blink away and then I watch the me in the window cause she’s crying. When it’s all the way black outside, mom and the sour man leave, too. I am all out of tears and kind of hungry, and I feel like someone squeezed me too hard so there’s nothing left inside anymore. Nobody has come to kiss me on the cheek but I pretend they did and I don’t wipe it off.

It’s finally safe to let Oreo out, my friend, my secret, my Little Bug. I open my bag and scoop everything out. Oreo lays on the bottom just where I left her. I try to wake her because she is sleeping with eyes open wide, all stiff and hard and cold. Even the green has left her eyes. She doesn’t move at all as I hug her to my chest. Mom comes home much later, and I dare to wish she will come say goodnight. I whisper to Oreo one more joke hoping she will wake up and laugh with me again. “What do you call a girl who nobody kisses? Pride and joy.” I kiss Oreo but she still doesn’t wake up and mom goes straight to bed.