Free A Sliver of Sun by Dianna Dorisi Winget Page B

scared with Ben around. Does that make sense?”
    “But I do,” I said. “I feel lonely sometimes, ’cause you and I never do anything together anymore. Ginger’s always around. And just when I start trying to get used to all the changes, you go and throw another one at me.”
    Mama pulled me to her and gave me a tight squeeze. “I know that’s how it must feel. I’m sorry, Piper Lee. I really don’t mean to keep throwing changes at you, honest. This baby was just … well, like I said, it just happened is all. It’ll be a big change for me too, y’know?”
    Just then we heard the rumble of Ben’s truck in the driveway, and Mama stepped back and glanced at her watch. “Goodness, four-thirty all ready. Guess I better start thinking about supper.”
    “Mama, is it true you might quit your job?”
    She pursed her lips and gave a little shrug. “Depends on who you ask.”
    “But do you want to?”
    “Mmm. Yes and no. I mean, it would make more sense once the baby comes. But I’m not sure we can afford for me to quit.”
    “Ben says we can.”
    There was the heavy step of his boots on the porch, and Mama winked at me and put a finger to her lips. “Got any homework?”
    “Nah, think I’ll just read my book.”
    “Okay. And I promise to come up with some things for just you and me to do once-in-a-while, all righty?”
    I sighed. Once-in-a-while didn’t sound like anything too often. “Okay,” I said.
    The screen door screeched open, and Mama slipped out to the kitchen. “Hey, guy.”
    “Hey, now,” Ben said, “you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen all day.”
    With Ginger out on the trampoline, it was nice and quiet in the bedroom. I pulled
Mockingbird
out of my backpack and lay down on the lower bunk. I hadn’t made it past page fifteen, and though I didn’t care much for the history of Maycomb County, I did like Scout. She was only eight years old, but she was smart and curious and didn’t let her big brother boss her around much. She’d also lost her mama, like I’d lost Daddy, so it seemed we had some things in common.
    I read five pages before I was interrupted by Ben’s deep chuckle coming from the living room. I closed my eyes and just listened for a minute, on account of how much I liked the sound of it. I wished
I
could do something to make him laugh like that. Then Mama joined in with her little-girl giggle—the one she saved just for him. I set my book aside and peeked out of the bedroom. Mama and Ben were crouched in front of the TV looking at the ultrasound pictures. Mama was drawing her finger in outline just like she had for us, and Ben had a goofy grin on his face.
    I couldn’t help but notice how happy they both seemed, and I wondered if they’d lied about the baby being an accident and a surprise. Maybe they’d wanted it all along. Maybe they’d even
planned
it. It would be Mama’s and Ben’s alone—a part of both of them together—something Ginger and I never could be. But at least Ginger was a Hutchings. I’d always be a DeLuna. Ben had no reason to ever think of me as his daughter.

Chapter Ten
    T he next morning when Mrs. Holloway put us in reading groups, I kept half an eye on Angela and Ginger. Our little groups were scattered around the room in odd spots. Ramsay and I were up against a wall near the craft table where the big paper cutter sat. But Ginger and Angela were on a square of carpet partly hidden behind a stack of science textbooks.
    I could barely see Ginger, but I could see Angela just fine. She kept her copy of
Huckleberry Finn
opened on her lap, but I never saw her looking at it much except for when our teacher happened to be nearby. Most of the time she gawked around with a smug look, or picked at loose threads of carpet. Every so often she’d duck her head toward Ginger and mouth some words.
    “It’s your turn,” Ramsay said, sounding a little embarrassed.
    “Huh?”
    “It’s your turn to read. How come you’re always looking