Free Rumble by Ellen Hopkins Page B

his plan, isn’t it
    better to know for certain now, rather
    than wait for him to spring it on you?”
She regards me with swollen eyes.
It isn’t real until he makes it real. Until
then, it’s better to worry in private.
    I should just let it drop, but what
    the hell, I’ve got a little time to kill,
    and I shouldn’t be the only one forced
    to regurgitate his secrets. “I’m going
    to be real direct here, Mom. Seems to
    me you and Dad haven’t had much
    of a relationship for a long time.
    Would it be the end of the world
    if the two of you got a divorce?”
Her body visibly tenses. I need
a cigarette. She straightens her legs,
preparing to stand, but takes the time
to answer. No, Matthew, the world
wouldn’t end. But I can’t let that
happen, because then, he’d win.
    Not sure which Mom I hate seeing
    more—the broken-down blubbering
    one, or the steel-hearted bitch.
    I watch the latter go off in search
    of a nicotene fix, and as I get to my
    feet, notice a newspaper Mom left
    folded back to the announcements
    page. My eyes skim for offending
    news, settle quickly on a divorce notice:
    Plaintiff Lorelei Crabtree versus
    Defendant Dale Crabtree . . . Lorelei.
    Dad’s old girlfriend just became free again.

Which, to a Point
    Explains Mom’s weeping jag.
    But I still don’t know
    if she was crying from fear
    that Dad might leave her
    or crying from anger because
    now it might be a little easier
    for him to make that choice.
    But does he even know
    about Lorelei? If she lived
    in Cottage Grove, of course
    he would. It’s a very small town.
    Everyone is privy to the other’s
    business. But Lorelei stayed
    in Eugene. The city isn’t huge,
    but it’s big enough that neighbors
    don’t know their neighbors unless
    they make it a point to say hi.
    Big enough so you can live
    there without the people next
    door knowing your history,
    which might include the fact
    that the love of your life left you
    for some other girl he got pregnant.
    Big enough so the news you’re
    divorcing the replacement love
    of your life just might get buried
    on the announcements page
    where no one bothers to look.
    Except Mom. Personally, I think
    she’s crazy, and if Dad would even
    consider divorce, with all
    its repercussions, on the strength
    of such a big MAYBE, he’d be
    crazy too. And if Lorelei actually
    encouraged such a thing, she’d
    be the most insane person
    of the bunch, because as Creswell
    Grandma would happily counsel,
    Once a womanizer, always
    a womanizer. Or, why make
    the same mistake twice?

Sage Advice
    Why don’t more people adhere
    to the practice? Personally, I’m
    going to make it my motto: Mistakes
    are easy to come by. Why make
    the same one twice? Maybe I should
    print it on T-shirts and sell them.
    My customer base would be huge.
    By the time I eat, change, and leave
    for the game, Mom and her Marlboros
    have vacated the front porch, though
    the ghost scents of both linger. I’d like
    to say, “Poor Mom,” and mean it, but
    I hate when she acts all pathetic even
    more than when she plays badass.
    It’s hard to feel sorry for someone who
    will put her own happiness on hold,
    especially when, by her own confession,
    the only reason she chooses to do that
    is to interfere with the possibility of Dad
    “winning,” as if, other than on the basketball
    court, he could ever be a real winner.
    He’s already lost way too much.
    We’ve all already lost way too much.

I Purposely Miss
    The freshman basketball game,
    not only because Luke should be
    starring in it, but because watching
    Cal Stanton play starting forward
    instead would push me right up against
    the edge. Watching Dad coach him
    would shove me all the way over.
    Cal was always jealous of Luke’s
    innate ability. Like Dad, the work
    ethic part of the equation escaped
    him completely. In elementary school,
    Luke always got picked first, a trend
    that continued in middle school, where
    the basketball coach immediately
    recognized his