Not Now

The bottle's back in the cabinet — I can see the green neck sticking up behind the coffee can. So I'm supposed to think she didn't get it out when she came home. Like I care.

I've got plenty of my own problems to think about. Like whether I'm going to sock Merle Wyrick if he makes another crack about my horse picture. Thinking about it's not a good idea, though. If I think about it, I'll remember that I'll be the one who winds up hearing a whiny lecture from Mrs. Paysinger about how young ladies should act in school while Merle just sits there laughing at me.

So I'm just going to turn on the TV and watch "Raymond" reruns until it gets dark.

Too late. Mom's already in my face about cleaning the bathroom. So now I'm the maid. I wouldn't mind cleaning up (not much, anyway) if she'd buy some decent cleaner but instead it's all this green stuff — eco-friendly, pardon me — that might as well be toothpaste. OK, I'll just splash it around and make her feel good. Except the wine already did that, didn't it?

Hmmm. The suds from the cleaner are kind of like white finger paint here on the blue tile. Maybe we could just keep it like this, with the little stick horses running around on the walls.

Now what? OK, OK. The walls are rinsed off and I'm turning off the water. I'm out of her way.

Mom's in the bathroom now, putting on more makeup and more earrings — she must have five holes apiece in her ears. You'd think they'd start sagging down to her shoulders from all that metal. But now she's playing around twisting her hair up. Finally she thinks she looks good enough to go.

She's singing along with the radio and bouncing while she's driving, and the seat belt cuts into me when she slams on the brakes at Granny's. I can smell the wine when she leans over to kiss me good-bye, and I think probably she's not going to remember to pick me up for school in the morning. I walk up to Granny's door and yell so she knows it's me and doesn't call the neighbor's dog to bite me, but I'm watching Mom's car pull off with clouds of black smoke coming out of the back. I hate staying with Granny. It feels like I'm the one who's watching her, really. She just eats crackers and drinks coke, can't even cook, can't even find stations on TV sometimes. If she ever quits messing with all the locks and lets me in, I can at least call and get some Indian takeout.

I really like the Indian place — Mom used to work there, and she's still friends with the people who own it, the Pranesh people. Sometimes we go there if Mom's not going out. It smells like all kinds of spices, and has really big pictures of women and elephants and palaces on the walls. It's like a royal paradise, those castles and princes and things, even if the chairs don't match the tables. Most kids probably wouldn't eat that food, but I love it, even the pink chicken and the gooey spinach. And it's a special place.

Like last week, I'm pouring yogurt stuff on my plate and Dilip comes to bring me some tea. He's so sweet when he smiles, and he talks to me like I'm a princess. He's got black curly hair with kind of a strange haircut, and really thick eyebrows, but I like his big white teeth and his floppy mustache. He's the only real person I've ever seen with a mustache. Mom comes back from the ladies and he smiles even sweeter at her, and she laughs and starts stuffing in the samosas. Those jeans, they're going to split right off her rear end pretty soon. Mrs. Pranesh comes out then and hugs me, and brings me a bowl of special rice pudding that she makes just for the family and for us. She smells like purple smoke, and the little red dot on her forehead shines like nail polish.

But tonight at least I get take-out, even if stupid Travis the delivery guy brings it. I can call, and it's a good thing, because Granny's too deaf. And so we eat pink chicken and watch the Shopping Network and Granny starts snoring, but at least her teeth don't fall out like they did once. They smell, though.

That was yesterday. Today I'm wishing I could get back just a minute of that day. Just even 15 seconds would be good. Anything but now.

This morning I'm sitting there in school, listening to Mrs. Paysinger talk about the agriculture in New Zealand and I can feel Merle behind me, probably writing a sign to put on my back that says Doofus, which is his idea of a bad word, or thinking about how he can torture me after school by stealing my lunchbox or something else dumb. Maybe I will sock him. Scarlett is sitting next to me chipping the paint off her nails and I'm reading "My Friend Flicka" again inside my geography book, like I can't get enough of those New Zealand sheep. The room is really hot and it smells like sour milk and wet wool. Outside the rain is drizzling into the mud.

And then there's a knock on the door. Mrs. P. shuts up about the sheep and goes to talk, and immediately Merle throws his really nasty little note on my desk. I don't even read it, just crumple it up, and everybody's talking, not noticing how upset Mrs. P. is, until she turns around and waves her hand at me.

What have I done, I think. I'm always doing stuff wrong and not even knowing it, so I'm always surprised when I get in trouble. Which is always. I walk up to the door really slow, trying to remember if I walked on the wrong side of the hall or didn't take back a library book or what.

But Mrs. P. doesn't look mad—she looks really sad and scared. And suddenly I am too.

The policewoman takes me to the hospital because there really isn't anybody else. And so I'm sitting here waiting to get to see Mom.

It's cold in here, and there's nothing to do. There's an old lady across from me holding her stomach and moaning. She looks like she didn't comb her hair when she got up. She doesn't even know I'm here, probably. But all the hospital people keep looking at me, like I'm going to start tearing things up or running around or something. What do they think, all kids are criminals? I'm just sitting here, lady. Waiting for my mom that you're not telling me anything about.

I'd rather think about the weird lady and the hospital people, because when I think about Mom, my stomach feels twisted, like I might throw up. Yeah, I'm scared. I don't know if she's all torn up, or just hurt a little bit, or what. I keep thinking about all the bad wrecks on TV and how people get burned and their heads knocked off. Maybe they would tell me if that happened to her, wouldn't they?

I'd rather be sitting in class watching Merle tear up my horse pictures than be here. I' d even rather be taking a math test.

The hospital people seem like they're mad that I don't have anybody here with me who knows about insurance and everything. They keep asking me to call somebody. Right. I can call Granny. She can't hear on the phone and if she could, she can't drive and hasn't got a car, and she's not going to take the bus over here at night. She'd wind up in some other town if she tried to do that. I ought to call her and then the hospital people could be mad at both of us.

Now it's getting late and I'm wishing I was back at the Royal Rajah like last week, and I think about Dilip and Mrs. Pranesh.

Before I let myself think about it much, I go to the phone and call the Royal Rajah and order some take-out. Dilip will let Mom pay later and he can get stupid Travis to deliver.

Dilip sounds strange though when I tell him where I am. Maybe he's mad about something too. I can't tell when I can't see his face, because on the phone he always sounds different. I can hardly tell what he's saying.

Somebody new from the hospital comes in, a fat lady with yellow hair and a big behind. She says she's the social worker, and she's even worse than the ones who seem so mad. She's all sugar-sweet, like Mrs. Paysinger when she's mad, and she says she'll get somebody to come and take me somewhere to spend the night until they know more about how Mom's doing.

That doesn't sound good at all to me. My stomach's not just twisty now, it's jumping around. I look at the social worker with her fake frosty blond hair and her big purple sweater that doesn't cover up her fat rear end. She's got this tight-lipped smile and her eyes squinted up and I know what she means. I've heard about it already.

My eyes get ahead of my stomach and it feels like tears are going to come popping out any minute. My nose is burning inside with all those tears, but I'm not going to cry. The social worker would probably hug me and then I would throw up for sure.

I can't even talk, just look at the wrinkles full of makeup around her mouth and wish for Mom.

The door opens and I smell the curry before I even look around for stupid Travis. Probably the social worker's going to kick him out and make me eat dried-up sandwiches out of a vending machine. My eyes sting even more and I can tell one tear is trickling out already.

And then a hand is on my shoulder, and Dilip bends over. He sits down by me and holds my hand.

"Thank you," he says to the social worker. "Thank you for your kindness. I am staying with her right now."

Dilip smells like curry and he's wearing his waiter jacket, but when I turn around, he seems to me like he's shining, like he's a prince who's going to take me off on his elephant to the big white castles on the restaurant walls. I'm so glad to see him that I make a big snurfing sound so I can stop crying and smile at him.

The social worker is already frowning and putting her hand on my shoulder. And then one of the hospital people comes through the doors and starts walking toward me. I grab Dilip and hold on to his arm, but I can't stop from hearing what the doctor says.