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“Uh-huh. Sure,” I say.
I toss my purse on the table and head upstairs.
I’m not actually worried about a horror movie ruining her; god knows I was exposed to far worse when I was her age. It’s endearing that she’s worried about it. Assuring, even. Besides, what’s a kid who’s home alone all summer with only three TV channels supposed to do instead?
It could be drugs.
“Hey, wait!” she shouts, trailing after me.
“What?” I say over my shoulder before turning into my bedroom. I sit on my bed, remove my Docs, and rub my swollen feet. I really should start wearing more comfortable shoes when I work double shifts, but I won’t. I tell myself that every time I make this mistake, but I worked my ass off to save up for these shoes, and they’re the nicest thing I own.
“I need new shoes,” Emma says, appearing in my doorway. “Mine have a hole in the bottom.”
“Okay…”
“I mean…I need money for new shoes.”
“Ask Mom.”
“She told me to ask you. She said she’s behind on the electric.”
I sigh and walk over to my closet. I pull out a pair of platform sandals I’d grown out of. “Can’t you just wear these until summer is over?”
She takes them from me and examines them, appearing satisfied, then flips them over and says, “These are a size seven.”
“And?”
“And I wear a four. They’ll fall off of me. Please, Mel. I got invited to Brittany’s slumber party this weekend, and I don’t want to go with holes in my shoes.”
That alone guts me. I look at my sister, her mismatched clothes that were also once mine and probably won’t fit her properly for another year, the butterfly clips in her frizzy hair, and her pleading eyes and force a smile. She’s a sweet kid—a little different, but she still seems to have a lot of friends.
She smiles back, and I’m reminded that she’s also going to need braces in a couple of years. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to pay for that. It’s not like my mom has insurance.
“These girls…” I say. “They’re all nice to you?”
“Of course,” she says. “They’re my friends. Besides, no one is mean to me at school. Everyone is afraid of you.”
“Damn right they are,” I tell her.
I stand and cross the room to my dresser, open the top drawer, and pull out the box labeled “College Fund.” I shake my head as I remove the last twenty-dollar bill and a couple of fives and hand them to her.
I need to get a new box. The truth is this was never much of a college fund at all; something always came up, and what I did have barely covered the application fees that were wasted on drawer full of letters telling me I was accepted to places I'll never actually be able to go.
“Just get something you can wear for the summer, and I’ll get you some nice new tennis shoes after school starts again. If there’s money left over, go get some ice cream or something.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turns and, before she leaves the room, stops and looks back.
“What?” I ask.
“I love you, Mel,” she says. “I know you wanted to go to college but…I’m glad you’re staying. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I force a smile again. “You’ll always have me,” I tell her. “No matter where I am. Close the door when you go, okay?”
She nods and leaves the room, pulling it closed behind her as requested. I turn on the radio then lie back in bed, my eyes settling on the shelves lining the back wall—the pageant sashes draped across the corners, the trophies from cheerleading and dance competitions, the porcelain dolls. I know they’re out of place, but my dad used to show up with them whenever he came home. He’d pick one out that he thought looked like me, and now I have an entire collection of blonde-haired, beady blue-eyed nightmares watching me all the time.
