Free Fancy White Trash by Marjetta Geerling Page B

God,” he says again.
    Gustavo is in his mid-twenties and was one of the first employees at our local Blockbuster when it opened ten years ago. He’s a little on the nerdy side, with his hair perpetually pulled back in a ponytail and glasses always slipping off his face. He’s not someone new and I don’t know what kind of baggage he might have, but he’s not bad-looking. He doesn’t fit my Rules, but it occurs to me he might be perfect for Kait.
    â€œCome by Friday night,” I say. “I’m sure Kait would love to see you.”
    â€œShe would? I mean, sure, I’ll stop by. What time?”
    I tell him to come by after dinner and to bring a movie. It’s the first time I’ve thought about applying my One True Love Plan to someone else. Would it work for my sisters? For Cody? I’m worried about him. What’s with the hickey and the mysterious freshman girl?
    â€œAbby!” Mom hollers from her bedroom.
    â€œWhat?” I holler back, turning down the heat and setting aside the wooden spoon. I take a sip of water and watch the Os bubble.
    â€œAbby!” she yells again, and I realize she’s not going to let it go.
    In her bedroom, the last one down the hall, the blinds are closed. Mom lies diagonally across the unmade bed. One arm is flung over her face. The other rests on her belly. At a little over three months pregnant, the only sign that my little sister is in there is the slightest rise that’s only visible if you knew how flat Mom’s stomach was before.
    Despite Mom’s assurances to the contrary, I’m sure the baby’s a girl. I wonder if she’ll look like Hannah or more like the Guitar Player. Will she have musical talent? Be a great dancer? It’s too bad the only gift my dad seems to have passed on is his high tolerance for alcohol.
    â€œWill you get me my migraine pills?” Mom whispers.
    â€œNo.”
    She moves her arm from over her eyes. “What did you say to me?”
    â€œYou can’t take those things when you’re pregnant. I don’t want an eleven-toed sister.” I put on my I’m-serious face. The one she should use with me, not the other way around. But I’m used to her abdicating the Momness guise in favor of her more popular role as just-one-of-the-girls.
    â€œAbby! You can’t expect me to go through a migraine without my pills. The pain!” She curls into a ball.
    â€œI’ll bring you a Tylenol.”
    â€œYou know those don’t work.”
    I suspect that Mom’s migraines are actually hangovers. I’ve been able to add two plus two for a long time, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she often gets the headaches after the partying.
    Mom moans and curls herself up tighter. I bring her a Tylenol and a glass of water and help her sit up so she can swallow.
    â€œWill you call Steve for me? Will you tell him I need him to come home?”
    Need him. It’s the kiss of death for Mom’s relationships, but she’s hurting so I agree. He doesn’t answer. I leave a message on his voice mail. I wonder if I will have to be Mom’s breathing coach and if so, can I get PE credit for it?
    I’m on my way to Computers on Thursday afternoon, cutting through the herd of other students rushing to beat the bell, when I see Cody up ahead. He’s walking with a girl I’ve never seen before. I wonder if she’s The Freshman.
    â€œCody!” I hurry to catch up.
    He says something to the girl and she keeps walking.
    â€œIs that her?”
    â€œWhat? No! Are you kidding me?” He moves his backpack from one shoulder to the other.
    Today, two days after the Big Hickey Incident, the mark is nearly gone. Is he planning to get a new one? “You can’t hold out forever.”
    His eyes narrow. “There’s nothing to tell. Drop it, Abby. It was a stupid mistake.”
    I’m trying to decide if it was a stupid