Chapter One
Madison ~ 5 Months Ago
“Happy birthday, Molls!” I jumped up and down in front of my sister, ignoring the scowl she always wore lately.
She looked up at me with sad eyes and sighed. “What’s so happy about it?”
“Are you kidding?” I gestured to the collection of kids that gathered in what passed for a park inside The 215, the creative name given to our San Bernardino trailer park, located just off the I-215. “Look at all these people who showed up to celebrate your birthday. Your thirteenth birthday, Molly!”
As a nine year old, thirteen seemed real grownup to me, and I couldn’t believe she wasn’t more excited.
Molly snorted and gave her best I-don’t-give-a-fuck, shrug. “They’re not here for me. They came for the burnt hot dogs and stale Wal-Mart birthday cake Mom bought last night.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong with that? Cake is cake, Molly!”
Molly stood and smoothed down the blue and white polka dot dress we found for two bucks at the Salvation Army near the movie theater and nodded for me to follow her into the kitchen. She yanked the fridge open and pointed to the pink and red cake. “Go on, get a good look at it.”
I peeked inside with an eager smile that quickly faded as I read the words, “Happy Birthday Sally.” I turned to her, confused. “Who’s Sally?”
Molly sighed. “It’s a day-old cake that someone else didn’t want or forgot to pick up. Mom probably got it for cheap so she could afford that case of beer that’s in the drawer where the vegetables should be.”
I looked, and like always, Molly was right. Molly was righter than our own mom. I wondered how she got so smart because she knew everything. And there in the veggie drawer was familiar green and gold cans filled to the top that meant today would be an awfully long day. “I’m sorry, Molly. Maybe it’s not old?” I tried to cheer her up.
She shrugged like it didn’t matter, but her sad brown eyes told me it mattered. A lot. “Whatever.” She walked off, even angrier than before and I wanted to cry. Would it be so hard for Mom to act like a mom, just for one day?
This was Molly’s special day, and she was my favorite person in the whole wide world. I couldn’t take back the three beers Mom had for breakfast, or the creepy guy sleeping in her bedroom, but I could fix this one thing for her. I pulled the cake from the fridge and stared at the white frosted name that mocked my sister. Sally. I grabbed a butterknife and tried to pick the letters off the cake. Major fail. Instead, I spread it across the cake into something that resembled a rectangle.
“Okay, what now?”
I went to the cupboard first and found a couple cans of vegetable soup and ravioli in one, unused seasoning packets and ketchup in another. Nothing useful. In the fridge, I found the perfect substitute. Chocolate syrup. I turned the plastic bottle over and in my best printing, I carefully dribbled out MOLLY over the reddish smear. It didn’t match the red and pink frosting, but at least my sister’s cake had the right name on it.
The name of the coolest sister ever.
The front screen door smacked open against the trailer’s doorframe before a familiar voice yelled, “Molly! Where’s my beautiful birthday girl?” Slurred but happy words carried through the entire trailer, and I sighed, bracing myself for whatever came next.
We were used to it. Mom’s drinking and stinky old men.
“Molly? Get out here so I can see how pretty you look today!”
The door to our shared bedroom opened, and Molly’s footsteps sounded down the hall. “What’s up, Mom?”
Mom gasped. “Oh, my baby girl, you are so fucking gorgeous. At least your father gave me one beautiful child. Happy thirteenth birthday, baby!” Mom pulled her into her arms for a big bear hug.
“Thanks,” Molly whispered, returning Mom’s hug before she turned quickly away.
Mom pulled back, swaying a little, her smile wide and proud as she gazed lovingly down at Molly. “Cake is in the fridge and ice cream is in the freezer. Burgers and dogs are ready for the grill, buns and chips are set out on the picnic table, the one without the broken leg, and I even managed to find some balloons. Let’s go see.”
Before Molly could object, Mom pulled her out of the trailer and around back to the park with one working swing, a missing slide and rusted monkey bars. “What do you think, honey?”
“It’s great, Mom. Thank you.” I knew Molly didn’t mean it, but we both knew it was easier to say it, than to risk making Mom mad, especially after she’d had a few drinks.
An hour and four more beers later, Mom was totally drunk, and Molly was super embarrassed even though she wasn’t friends with most of the kids in the trailer park.