Free My Mother Got Married by Barbara Park Page B

room and there they were. Thomas was curled up in the chair watching Sesame Street. Lydia was stretched out on the couch waiting for the phone to ring. They both looked full.
    “Look, Charrulls,” said Thomas excitedly as he pointed to the screen. “There’s Bernie!”
    I rolled my eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you, Thomas?” I said. “It’s not Bernie. It’s Bert and Ernie. They’re two separate people.”
    “Puppets,” corrected Lydia, raising a finger in the air.
    I frowned. “Oh. Like I didn’t already know that.”
    Just then my stomach started to growl. Not loud enough for anyone to hear, but enough to make me double over.
    Lydia glanced at me curiously.
    “My stomach’s growling,” I informed her curtly. “The reason it’s growling is that no one left me anything to eat for breakfast. All the cereal’s gone.”
    Casually she shook her head. “That’s not true. There’s other cereal in there.”
    I made a face. “Oh, boy. Bark and twigs.”
    Lydia shrugged again and turned back to the TV.
    “The Fruity Flakes were mine,” I persisted. “My mother bought them for me.”
    This time she looked at the ceiling and sighed in annoyance. “They were for all of us, Charles.”
    “No, they weren’t,” I argued. I could feel the anger building inside me. “They were just mine. I get to have something around here too, you know. You two don’t get everything!”
    Lydia’s eyes grew wide. “Everything?” she snapped, bolting up. “What do you mean we ‘ get everything’ ? What have we cheated you out of, Charlie? We gave up our whole house and our whole neighborhood to come here. What did you give up? Nothing, that’s what! So excuse me if I accidentally had the last bowl of cereal, Your Majesty!”
    I was trying to think of something smart to yell back at her when Thomas stamped his foot.
    “Shh! Quiet!” he shouted. “I can’t hear the Bernie with the long head!”
    I covered my face with my hands. Like I said, the place was a loony bin.
    “Bert,” I muttered for the millionth time. “His name is Bert. Bert, Bert, Bert, Bert, Bert, Bert, Bert, Bert …”
    Beep-beep! Outside, a loud car horn interrupted my Berts. I don’t mean just one or two little toots, either. I mean major honking. Like little kids do when their mom leaves them in the car while she runs into the grocery store.
    Thomas stood up in the chair and peeked through the window. “ Meemee! ” he shrieked. “ Meemee Russo! ”
    The next thing I knew, he and Lydia were flying out of the living room headed toward the front door. That was that. I never even had a chance to finish my argument with Lydia. I could have thought of some good stuff, too. I know I could have.
    Feeling more frustrated than ever, I stood up and looked outside. The honking was coming from a giant white car parked in our driveway. I’m not sure of the make, but it was the kind of car they call a gas guzzler. I’d seen it before at the wedding.
    It belonged to Ben’s mother.
    In the time it took me to get to the window, Mom and Ben had dashed from the back yard to greet her. Standing there with Thomas and Lydia, Ben opened her door.
    Mrs. Russo got out of the car. Her cotton-candy white hair came first, about two feet of it piled on top of her head. It was the kind of hair that you could shoot a cannonball through and never get close to her scalp.
    She hugged and kissed each one of them. Thomas’s hug was the longest. He dangled from her neck until Ben poked him to let go.
    In no time at all the five of them were headed toward the front door. I barely had time to make it to my room.
    “Didja bring me something, Meemee?” Thomas squealed loudly as they came inside. “What d’ja bring me?”
    “Here, Meemee. Sit here!” urged Lydia.
    I rolled my eyes again. Meemee. Great name. I guess that made her my stepmeemee.
    “Charles!” called my mother from the bottom of the stairs. “Charles, come down here! We have company!”
    Darn! I