Krissie wants a little brother, and so do I. We've always shared a room, and I don't want one of my own.
Krissie and I visit the pastor once a week. The idea is he'll counsel us about the baby, and we'll quit thinking of it as our brother. But it's not working. Krissie told him she wants to name our baby Tyler because she likes that name a lot and she knows a boy named Tyler and he is nice. I told him I read that mother cats don't get upset when their kittens are given away but once in awhile a baby gets so upset about losing his mother that he's afraid for the rest of his life.
Twice a week my father drives us to Riverside, to Orangecrest Dance Company, where Krissie and I get free ballet lessons. It takes us thirty minutes to drive one way, and I wish it took longer. I like singing songs with Krissie, and I like talking school with my dad. In the car I feel like nothing's changed. For a little while. Until we get home. Until I hug my mom.
The dance lessons fit right in. My mom's in LA, we're in Riverside, and—it's planned—we get home at the same time.
The motto of this family is Always Take Care of Each Other.
We usually split chores, but my mom's too pregnant now. I try to keep things exactly as she likes them. Not that she'd get mad or anything. It's just that she's usually in charge, and that's the way it's been forever. But now . . . I make most of the dinners. I clean the house. I help Krissie with her homework. After driving cement trucks all day, my dad likes to come home and work on his Chevy. We try to let him.
I thought I'd get sick of Krissie always tagging along with me, but it's turned out okay. Weekdays, I walk her to Miss Donuts and then to school. We take the trail past some mobile homes, through a weedy field, to the walls of The Colony where the old people live. We don't get scared anymore. We race to the bottom, where the dirt meets the gate.
A few months ago when we first started walking to school, we made friends with Earl the squirrel, and everyday we brought him carrots or almonds. But one day he got all hyper, standing on his hind legs, front paws scratching the air, twisting and turning this way and that as if looking for someone; his voice bigger than his body, more like a bark than a chirp.
2