“Annabelle. Her name is Annabelle Key.”
Chapter Seven
Annabelle
It’s been a little over two weeks since the Friday. Caroline is sulky, and she ignores me, which is actually nice.
I applied for every server position available, no matter the pay or hours, but nobody’s called me back yet. It probably takes a while to review applications, but I’m sure I’ll get a call back. I have a lot of experience waitressing.
Since I don’t have anything in particular to do, I shred the leftover chicken thigh meat from last night for the creamy mushroom noodles Nonny loves so much. It’s almost five, and she should be home soon from band rehearsal. She plays the piccolo, and according to the teacher, she’s very talented.
By the time I toss the chicken into the mushroom sauce—made with a can of cream of mushroom soup—Nonny is home.
Mom called her an “accident” baby because Nonny was the result of failed birth control. But our parents never loved her any less for it. She was the little princess of the house until everything crashed and burned.
Looking at her bright brown eyes and flat golden-brown hair, I wish she would never let what happened to our parents affect her. She was a kid back then—and she’s still a kid, just turned fifteen—but appearing so much younger because of her round face, soft with the remnants of baby fat. She’s in a black T-shirt that reads Keep Calm and Let It Go and a pair of faded jeans that are too tight. I should get her a new pair, but money…well, lately money’s always a problem. Even with Mr. Grayson’s monthly help, it’s not enough for everything without me working.
“How was school?” I ask.
“Eh, not bad,” she says, dropping her backpack next to her chair at the dining table.
I search her face. “No trouble with the Evil Squad?” The Evil Squad is our code name for the horrible girls who pick on her.
“Not really,” she mumbles.
“Nonny, if you’re having problems, you have to let me know. I’ll talk with your teachers.” Even though she hasn’t done anything to bother them, the Evil Squad is cruel to her anyway. The school she goes to is in a poor district with more troubled teens than good ones.
“I smell something good,” Nonny says. “What’re you cooking?”
I sigh. She won’t talk about her school problems because she knows we can’t afford to move, and there’s nothing I can do except meet with her teachers. It bothers me. She should be whining about how crappy those girls are and how much she hates them. After all, she’s only fifteen. “Your favorite,” I say.
She inhales appreciatively, then smiles.
I smile back. “We should go shopping soon,” I say as I place a plate of noodles and a fork in front of her. Her portion also has all the meat…not that there’s much.
“You sure?” Her voice is small. “I thought you had to…you know.” She clears her throat. “We can wait until you have a new job. Actually we should wait until then. That way it’s a celebration, right?”
My throat closes for a moment. I wish Nonny would be just a tad selfish and obnoxious like a normal teenager. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so guilty about how poorly I’m providing for her.
“You okay?” Nonny’s question pulls me out of my gloomy thoughts.
I paste on a smile. “Of course I’m okay. I was just thinking if we should really wait or not. You could use some new jeans.”
“Nah. These’re fine.” She shoves more pasta into her mouth. “This is great.”
I nod, unable to speak.
Even though I’ve done my best to give her the kind of normalcy any teenager needs, it isn’t enough. She was only thirteen when everything collapsed, and that’s old enough to know that something’s gone very wrong when your family suddenly has no money, people in town start saying terrible things about your parents, and when gunshots are fired in front of your house and the police couldn’t care less.
They asked for it. I heard that more than once around town.
Despite my lack of appetite, I manage a few bites of the noodles. Nonny finishes all of hers, then goes for a second helping. The girl eats like a horse, although she’s skinny. At the rate she’s growing, she’s going to end up taller than me.
“You know…” She hesitates.
“What?”
“Um. My band director. She says we’re going to Vegas for the regional competition. It’s not until later, so it’s not like anything has to be paid now, but I thought…” She clears her throat. “Well, I thought I should tell you, so you can…you know. Budget for it.”