“Why didn’t you go inside?” Beatrice asked.
“Because I really don’t care what my brother’s classroom looks like,” Evan replied.
“That’s kind of rude,” Beatrice huffed.
“Well, he didn’t come in to see my classroom,” Evan argued. “He didn’t even come to my open house.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Beatrice said. “You have a lot of classrooms. You’re in high school.”
“Very true. I didn’t think about that,” Evan answered.
“Bea, I think it’s time we go now,” Clara said. She pulled the car keys out of her purse.
“I never did see your mom,” Evan said. He couldn’t understand why he cared so much that these girls were on their own. They were on their own, he concluded. He hadn’t seen an adult with them all evening and couldn’t help but wonder why Beatrice lied to him.
“She actually drove separately,” Clara said. She couldn’t believe she was doing it, lying silkily. “She hasn’t been feeling well and was in the bathroom all evening. She called me on my cell to tell me that she was going home early. I guess I played parent tonight.”
“Oh,” Evan replied. He looked at Beatrice. She was staring at Clara, mouth hanging open just slightly, a look of confusion mixed with admiration plastered on her face.
“Come on, Bea,” Clara said taking her sister’s hand.
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Evan said.
Clara nodded and walked off. He watched the girls stroll hand-in-hand down the long corridor, Beatrice’s face raised to her sister’s, her profile showing a mouth still hanging open in disbelief.
Chapter 2
“Bea, I need you in here for a minute,” Clara called. She tried to quell the shaking in her voice, but it was there along with the brimming tears. She knew the conversation would be a difficult one, but she didn’t realize she would be this upset before it had even started.
Bea walked into the kitchen and took a seat. She propped her chin on her hands and waited for Clara to continue.
Clara took a deep breath. “Okay, so you know how I told you I had a headache yesterday? And that’s why I was crying?”
“Yes, and I know you were lying to me. You were crying about Mom,” Beatrice answered.
“Well, sort of,” Clara explained. “I was crying about what Mom left us with.” She held out the stacks of unpaid bills. “You really are too young to have to know any of this, but I have to tell you because we have to work as a team.”
Beatrice took the bills from her sister’s hand. Clara was hesitant, but Beatrice’s countenance brooked no opposition.
“So we owe a lot of money to a lot of people,” Beatrice said, sitting with her back straight flipping through the pages like a little accountant.
“Yes.”
“And you want me to get a job to help you pay these bills?” Beatrice asked still looking at the papers.
Clara burst out laughing. “You’re ten, Bea.”
“So? I can put up a lemonade stand or something,” Beatrice argued looking up at Clara.
“A lemonade stand? Here? Have you seen our neighborhood lately?”
Beatrice shrugged. “Just tell me how much we owe.”
Clara bit her lower lip. Her eyes no longer swam with tears. Beatrice’s confident attitude made her feel slightly better. She took back the bills and stacked them neatly in front of her.
“More than my next paycheck will pay,” she said.
“How much, Clara?”
“One thousand nine hundred eighty-two dollars and fifty-four cents.”
“Holy shit,” Beatrice whispered, eyes round and wide with disbelief.
“Beatrice Greenwich!” Clara chided. “Don’t say words like that!”
Beatrice looked at her sister evenly. “Clara, this is a holy shit situation. And when it’s a holy shit situation, you say, ‘Holy shit’!” She slapped her hands on the kitchen table for emphasis.
The corner of Clara’s mouth turned up. “Holy shit,” she said quietly and tentatively, feeling like she was cursing in front of Beatrice for the first time in her life when, in fact, she wasn’t.
“That’s right!” Beatrice encouraged. “Holy shit, what are we going to do?!”
“Holy shit, I have no idea!” Clara yelled.
Beatrice jumped up from the table and ran into the living room. Clara followed.
“Holy shit! Will we have to sell the furniture?!” she screamed jabbing her finger at their grandmother’s musty couch and recliner.
“Holy shit! We might!”
“Good, because I HATE this furniture!” Beatrice yelled at the top of her lungs.
“ME TOO!” Clara screamed back.
Beatrice ran and sprang up onto the couch. She started jumping up and down on the cushions. Clara, swept up in her sister’s mania, followed suit.
“Holy shit! We have no parents!” Beatrice yelled. The laughter broke through as she watched her older sister jump as high as she could on the adjacent cushion.
“Holy shit! We’ve got no money!” Clara replied. She started laughing hysterically.
“Holy shit! We’re poor!” Beatrice screamed. “POOR!” and she laughed as her face flooded with tears.
“So poor!” Clara agreed. “We won’t have electricity in two days!”
Beatrice collapsed on the couch laughing. Clara stopped jumping and fell down beside her giggling into a throw pillow.
They hiccupped and wiped their eyes. Beatrice watched Clara carefully. Her face rested half hidden in the dank pillow.
“I know you’re scared,” Beatrice said. “It’s a big job being a parent, especially when you’re just sixteen.”
Clara nodded.
“I’m not scared, though,” Beatrice said. “Do you hear me, Clara?”
Clara turned her face to her younger sister. Her hazel eyes were streaming, once tears of laughter but now tears of panic.