Free Everything Is Fine. by Ann Dee Ellis

melons.
    Mrs. Peet’s are big but pushed together and it’s because of a bra.
    Dixie’s are round and straight out.
    Mom’s are little hills.
    Mine are bumps.
    B OOB CHART : pen on paper

DIXIE
    I think Dixie understands me.
    I like her bikini and how she doesn’t care.
    Plus, Mrs. Dean doesn’t like her so I do.
ART CLASS
    Mom told all her students that she wasn’t teaching for a while.
    “How long?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Well, should I plan on bringing him next month?”
    “No.”
    “I’m so sorry to bug you, but he loves these classes and we paid for three months in advance.”
    No response from Mom.
    “Are you okay?”
    No response from Mom.
    Mom was just standing at the front door and I was standing behind her, and Mrs. Willis, whose kid Seth had been taking lessons
     for six months, was talking through the screen door. Mom wouldn’t let anyone in.
    “Umm, well. So I guess we’ll just wait.”
    “Do that,” Mom said.
    “You have no idea?”
    Mom was in her bathrobe and she was slumped.
    I wanted to tell Mrs. Willis to shut up and leave.
    But she still talked and Mom still slumped. “Is there anything I can do?”
    “No.”
    Mrs. Willis looked past her at me — she sort of gave me a look like please help but I made my face stone like Mom’s.
    “Some of the other moms have been wondering too.”
    Stone.
    Mom walked away and I was left there standing with Mrs. Willis.
    “Go away,” I said, and I shut the door.
    Now, since the art room is mine for a while, I act like Mom and lock the door.
    And I turn on her CDs.
    With her music and her paintings and the smell of oil, I can almost imagine everything back how it was.
    M OM’S STUDIO : watercolor on wall

COLBY AND THE SPYDER
    I give Colby the sugar but then he doesn’t leave.
    Instead we go outside and sit in the Spyder.
    We only do it because Colby begs me.
    I don’t like the Spyder so much.
    Colby wants to be behind the wheel. “This is such a cool car.”
    We came out the back door because Colby says the signs say no entrance, not no exit, which is true.
    So we’re sitting there and he says, “Did your dad ever let you drive it?”
    “Me? No.”
    “Steer?”
    “No.”
    No one has really driven it since Dad bought it. It just sits.
    “I’ve driven the Dean Machine.”
    “You have?”
    “Yeah. Tons of times.”
    “Oh,” I say.
    “And I could drive this thing too. I could smoke some pavement with this.”
    I look at the rearview mirror while he’s talking. It’s black outside. And stars with just a sliver moon.
    “How fast do you think this could go?” he asks, and he is massaging the steering wheel.
    “I don’t know.” I wonder if Mom is in the shower.
    “Fast,” he says.
    Then we sit and Colby has his hands on the wheel and I have my hands in my lap.
    Colby starts making vrooming noises like we’re driving.
    I just sit.
    Mom is inside taking a shower.
    She’s back. Things are going to be back to normal, even with Colby.
    A light goes on at Colby’s.
    “I gotta go,” he says.
    “Yeah,” I say.
    Then he says, “Thanks for saying I don’t suck.”
    I smile.
    And then he says, “I think McKinley Prep is going to be stupid.”
    “Me too,” I say.
    And then he does something weird.
    He puts his hand on my head — like he’s my grandma or something.
    I don’t know why but my stomach flips.
    I look at him and he is looking at me. Weird-like.
    “What?” I say.
    He turns red again and says, “Nothing.” And then he gets out and runs home.
SOMEONE ELSE
    After Colby leaves, I stay in the Spyder.
    In the dark, I feel like someone else.
    Dad is coming home.
    Mom is in the shower.
    Colby put his hand on my head.
NORMA
    I am about to get out when I see a car pull into Norma’s.
    It’s Norma’s red car.
    I sink down in my seat.
    Mr. Grobin goes around and helps Norma out of the car.
    She’s wearing her yellow T-shirt and tie-dye stretch pants and she’s walking really slowly.
    Part of me wants to run over there