Free Broken Soup by Jenny Valentine

out into the sink, treading on grapes and cornflakes and shards. The cloth was too slow and I kept getting fragments of glass in my fingers, so in the end I used the dustpan and brush to sweep most of it up, and then I rinsed it and put it on the heater to dry.
    While I mopped the floor, Stroma put her feet in the sink and tried to rinse them. She had a dark stain on her nightie so I took that off and rinsed it, too, under the tap. She sat there in her underwear, looking at me with her sad eyes while I cleared up the mess she’d made on the counter. I wiped the bottom of my sneakers and put them back in the hall. Then I carried her up the stairs, which was pretty difficult because she was heavier than usual, leaning into me like a deadweight.
    â€œThank you for my breakfast in bed,” I said while I was pulling a sweater over her head. The crown of her head showed first and then her face popped out, like she was being born out of a polo neck. She’d stopped crying by then. She was starting to look like she knew there was a funny side, even if it wasn’t quite here yet.
    I asked Stroma what she wanted to do. She said she wanted to go in the van again with Harper.
    â€œWe can’t do that today,” I said, and Stroma said, “Why not?”
    â€œBecause we did it yesterday,” I said.
    Stroma said she wanted to do it every day because it was fun. “But we should see Dad,” she said. “So he doesn’t feel left out again.”
    I looked at my sister and I couldn’t believe how cool and resilient and generous she was. She let Dad pick and choose her, and Mum carry on going insane, and she never fought them. She never threw herself at them or made demands or bitched. Now here she was thinking about Dad’s feelings and trying to take care of me.
    When Stroma was dressed, we went downstairs to the sitting room. It was a quiet day. We could hear Mum walking around upstairs, but she didn’t appear. Dad picked Stroma up. He wanted to take us both to the petting zoo and then somewhere cheap for supper. I said the petting zoo wasn’t really my thing these days, given that I wasn’t six anymore.
    He said, “I don’t see enough of you, Ro.”
    I had a list in my head of things I had to do while they were out. Wash the school uniforms, clean the bathroom, make sure Mum ate something, do my history essay, cook something that wasn’t pasta withcheese. I shrugged and tried to look comfortable and said I was busy with schoolwork.
    â€œAnd eighteen-year-olds?”
    â€œEnough, Dad,” I said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    I didn’t want to be home without Stroma. I’d feel like a sad case, moping around like Mum, just in a different room. I called Bee, but she had a school project to hand in the next day and she’d left it to the last minute. I thought about catching up with some friends and getting loud on the high street, but actually I didn’t feel like it one bit. I wasn’t missing them and they certainly weren’t missing me.
    I wanted to see Harper.
    I walked into Camden, looking for his van, but I didn’t find it. I wondered what he was doing at that minute. I doubted he was thinking about me.
    I went by the shop where I didn’t drop the negative but left with it anyway. It was the same girl behind the counter as before. Her T-shirt said BUY ONLY WHAT YOU NEED and I couldn’t agree more, but I wondered if her boss minded. She was on the phone and she smiled and sort of waved with her fingers wrapped around the wire like she couldn’t put the thing down if she tried. I picked up some yogurt and broccoli and some chips shaped like teddy bears that Stroma gets worked up over. I felt like a bit of a sad case. Two hours off and Igo food shopping for my kid sister.
    The girl was watching me like a hawk, like I might be a shoplifter and liven up her day. She mouthed, Are you OK? at