Free The Summer the World Ended by Matthew S. Cox

She shifted flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. “Why does everyone care so much what I look like?”
    “It’s not about body image. It’s about not starving to death. I know you’re upset about Mom, but rushing into the grave next to her isn’t a good idea.”
    “Oh, my God, Dad. You are such a drama queen.” Riley rolled her eyes. “Can’t you just let me be sad? Fine. Chicken Lo Mein… small.”
    “Coke?”
    “Mom said there’s too much sugar in soda. Get me a water.”
    Dad put a hand on her forehead. “Hmm. Doesn’t feel hot.”
    She shifted her gaze to his face, flashing an unamused smirk.
    “That’s fever talk for a fourteen year old. Don’t like soda?”
    “Mom said it’s all poison and chemicals.”
    He held his hands up in surrender. “Alright then. Water it is.”
    Riley sat up as he walked away, headed for the phone. “What do you drink?”
    Dad swiveled to smile at her. “Water.”

    The ceiling wasn’t any more interesting at two in the morning than it was for the hour and change Dad watched some ancient movie after their feast of Chinese food. She had zero interest in it and tried to text Amber, but kept getting ‘network error’ on the top of the screen. At ten thirty on the dot, Dad killed the light and went right to sleep.
    Riley grumbled and shifted onto her left side. The pillows were lumpy and dense, the mattress hard as a board. The sheet-blanket was so tight to the foot end of the bed, she had to twist herself into an Egyptian hieroglyph not to hurt her toes. Under the covers, she sweat buckets. Without them, she was too cold to sleep. She thought about ditching her tee and shorts, but sharing a room with Dad in her underwear would be
way
too awkward. Granted, her long-legged pajamas would’ve been even warmer.
    Do they have, like, focus groups searching for the most uncomfortable crap to make motel beds out of?
    She rolled on her right side. An irritatingly well-placed outside light found a gap in the blinds near the top of the window to leak through. Riley pushed the blankets down to her waist, leaving her legs covered, and fanned her chest.
I wonder what Amber’s doing now?
Probably just going to bed.
She rolled away from the window and the annoying light, curling into a fetal position.
Amber’s in her own bed.
Hers was in the trailer outside, but would it still feel like
hers
inside an alien room?
    Mom’s final look filled her thoughts, the red hemorrhagic eyes staring at Riley without a trace of awareness.
How much of Mom was left inside her at that moment?
    She curled up tighter, crying without making a sound.
    The next thing she knew, the sun blared through the open blinds. The uncomfortable bed tricked her mind into thinking she was still at the women’s shelter until Dad’s gentle hand prodded her on the shoulder.
    “Morning, Riley. It’s nine hundred hours. I wanted to get going earlier, but… you looked like you needed the sleep.”
    “Dad…” She sat up, grabbing his arm.
    “What’s wrong?” He clasped a hand over hers. “I mean, aside from the obvious.”
    “Thanks. For getting me out of that shelter.”
    “There was no choice involved. You are my daughter. I’d do anything for you.”
    She smiled. “Like beat up a guy at a wake?”
    “Jackass,” he muttered. “He had no right to upset you like that.”
    “He’s just an idiot.” Riley staggered to her feet. The over-warm bed left her feeling stiff and sticky, and wanting a shower. She wandered to the bathroom. “Gonna shower, you need to use the room?”
    “Go ahead.”
    She locked the door, stripped, and found herself staring at a confusing disc on the white tile wall. Miscalculating the meaning of the large, round fixture resulted in a blast of freezing water. Fully awake in an instant, she screamed, leapt away from the stream, and shut it off with a few feeble kicks. She shivered in place for a few seconds, water dripping from her chin.
    “You okay?” Dad’s voice came