Free Pull (Push #2) by Claire Wallis

piece of folded-over, yellow duct tape that is Emma. I look around the room for a place to put her. Somewhere that reminds me of how she makes me feel. Somewhere she won’t get lost. Or forgotten. Or accidentally thrown away. I tuck my little square Emma into my pillowcase. I slide her deep into it. To a place that’s soft and comfortable and secret. To where I will lay my head, and hers, and maybe dream about the grown-up me.
    As I pull my empty hand out of my pillowcase, an idea pops into my head. An idea about tonight. It’s perfect. I decide I’ll iron out the details as the day progresses. A half hour later, I’m staring into the dark space beneath Lainey Elliot’s dishwasher and thinking about tonight.

Chapter 12
    David—Age 9
    Today is my ninth birthday. September 18th. I wonder if my daddy will remember? Momma always remembered. Even when she was sad. Last year, on my eighth birthday, she ordered a birthday pizza and stuck three candles in it. She sang me the birthday song, too. There was no cake, and there were no gifts. But that was okay with me, because she smiled at me that day and I got to hear her sing. She sounded happy. For a little while, anyway. And that was better than any dumb old cake.
    Third grade is great so far. My teacher’s name is Mrs. Keene, and today, the whole class sang happy birthday to me. It was cool. I got to wear a birthday badge and be the leader all day long. Mine was the first class birthday of the year. I really like Mrs. Keene. She dresses nice, and she smells like a flower. I think it’s going to be a good year. At least at school.
    Daddy’s business must be doing real good because he’s pretty much never at home, except in the morning. He’s usually sleeping when I leave for school so I try really hard not to wake him up. All summer long I hardly ever saw him. Mostly I hung out with Jimmy Paxton in his blow-up pool. Every afternoon, his mom would bring us popsicles and spray us with more sunscreen. Then, whenever his mom called him inside for dinner, I would go home and eat soup and clean up the house and watch television until ten o’clock. Some nights I’d hear Daddy come home. Some nights I wouldn’t. He leaves money on the table for me every Friday so I can go to the grocery store downstairs and get us some food.
    On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I’ve got Science Club after school. But today is Wednesday, so I’m headed straight home. I ride bus number 31, and when I get off and start walking down the street, I stick my hand in my pocket and pull out the five-dollar bill I’ve had in there all day. As I walk, I smooth it out between my hands, trying my best to get rid of all the wrinkles. Before I go upstairs to our apartment, I walk into McMillan’s Grocery and head straight for the bakery counter. I pick out two cupcakes. Vanilla with chocolate buttercream frosting. My favorite. I also buy a box of tiny pastel-colored candles.
    When I get upstairs, I put the cupcakes on two separate plates, putting a candle into each one and leaving them on the kitchen table. Then I do my homework and put some of Daddy’s laundry into the washing machine. I make myself a box of macaroni and cheese for dinner, putting plastic wrap over the leftovers and sticking them in the fridge for Daddy to eat later. If he doesn’t want them, I’ll just eat them for breakfast.
    I’m watching Spongebob Squarepants when Daddy walks in. I look at the clock on the television. It’s only eight thirty. Daddy never comes home at eight thirty. He closes the door behind him just as I turn around to look at him. I see his eyes move from the cupcakes on the kitchen table over to me.
    “Happy birthday, David,” he says to me after a small pause. He remembered. “How about we celebrate?” He lifts up the brown paper bag he’s holding in his left hand before he sets it down on the table. I wonder what it is. If it’s a gift, it will be the first birthday present I’ve gotten in three