untitled

I don't want this. I stare at my plate of delicious food that makes me want to throw up. sure, some kids don't like broccoli. I love broccoli! so... why don't I want to eat it? This dinner is perfect, my favorite, made by my aunt Iris. I have eaten two bites of my chicken. I ate four pieces of broccoli. I ate five spoonfuls of mashed potatoes. So why can't I eat any more? Nobody will know the answer except for me and my screaming parents. Not even Jadana and Cecil. I won't tell a soul. The only reason my parents know is because they are the reason behind it. This dinner started out fine. That's why I ate some food. My record of how much I eat in one meal was thanksgiving three years ago, when I was about six... but I guess that doesn't count, cause my parents weren't there. Anyway, I had just eaten two pieces of broccoli, zero bites of my chicken, and three spoonfuls of mashed potatoes. My mom smiled as she slowly ate her dinner. My dad looked tense. "So!" my mom broke the silence and my dad straightened up. "How was school, sweetheart?" I shrugged. "Not good." My mother's smile faltered. "What happened?" "Well, My friends kept on bugging me because I was skinny. Jadana wanted to know why, and Cecil told her not to bother me." My father banged his fist on the table. "You said they were good for her, Elisa!" My mom jerked her head up. "They are! One of them is concerned and one of them thinks she shouldn't be bothered! Both good friends!" My father's face turns red. "She just said they were bothering her!" "No, dad, I-" I start. "Stay out of this, Andie!" But it's about me! I silently protest. We both turn to my mother and she isn't there. I know she is in the basement, probably sobbing, wolfing down chocolates and watching television. "Andie-" I look at him. "Fine, whatever, Andrea, please go to your room." I stand up and open the basement door. "Ahem. Your ROOM." My dad repeats. I close the door and slide through the panel on the wall and down a tunnel. I have no choice but to go through some secret passageway to get to my room-- a small, practically empty supposed- to- be storage area. All I have is a shelf with all the books I have ever owned and a very blank white bed. I own books like "A is for Apple, B is for Banana" and "one hundred pretty dresses" and little kid books because I get fifty cents a day. I read those books over and over again because I have nothing better to do. Or sometimes I jump on my not- so- bouncy bed. Or cry, because my family has no money, and my parents fight all the time, and I don't eat. My dad lives on the ratty couch and my mom lives on a blowup mattress in the basement. Our old T.V. was lent to us by friends. My aunt makes most of our meals (she lives next door) and if she doesn't we go to Burger King or McDonalds. A kitchen table? Please. More like a cardboard box. No rugs, just concrete and dusty floorboards. My mother works at a Diner called "Dusty's" which isn't popular enough to give mom more than a hundred dollars a day. My dad can't find a job, he dropped out of high school. My family is almost homeless, but I think a homeless shelter would be nicer than living here. I enter my "room" and flop down on my bed. "Ow!" I sit right back up. My bed isn't really floppable. I grab "Learning your ABC's" off the shelf and put it back up. I have a jar that I store change in, which now has five dollars. I get fifty cents a day but usually half of it is given to my parents to try and pay for groceries. Most days I don't even get allowance. I am saving up for as many books as I can, my parents are saving up to pay the electric bill. I can't use the phone. We have no rent because this place is such a dump the landlord wanted to leave and we got the whole place for free.