I need title help. Always. So if anyone has any ideas they'd be greatly appreciated. I'm not 100% sure where this story will go, which is part of the problem.. but anyway, here it is.
I used to like to play this game.
Instead of going home after school, I would hop on the train and ride into the city. Momma always said not to ride the train alone but I wasn’t scared and she didn’t notice, was too busy with John.
I’d do my homework on the train and tell her if she asked, she usually didn’t, I’d gone over to Kara’s to study.
Sometimes I would sit in the parks drawing people, my favorite was the crinkly, crumbled-paper look of the old peoples hands feeding the birds. But my favorite thing to do was walk in the crowds of people, all with places to go and people to see and pretend that I had places to go and people to see, pretending my Momma and Daddy were waiting in some big apartment with a specially made meal or I was some secret ambassador. Everyday, on those long afternoons I would play this game and I would pretend I was anybody else besides my self.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
My sister Marissa was out late and Momma finally decided to notice. It’s ‘cause John was in bed finally, sleeping like a rock. She poured herself some tea, ready to relax.
Momma wouldn’t say it but Johnny’s autistic. She insists, “He’s special, he’s different.” She says there’s nothing wrong with him. He also has the worst immune system in the world, this week he’s got the flu.
Anyway, Momma got her cup of tea and came up to check on us girls. It was nearly one but I was still awake, waiting for the familiar tap on our bedroom window, letting me know to open up.
The door creaked open, a sliver of light cutting across the dark floor and up the wall. Momma tiptoed in, planting a mushy kiss on my forehead. I bolted my eyes closed, steadied my breath. The sharp smell of tea made my nostrils flare.
She crossed the room to my sisters bed. I listened, hearing sharp, panicky rustling of sheets and the sound of the light being flicked on. Yellow light invaded my eyelids, “Willa Esther Jones, where is your sister?” He voice was stern and steady.
I kept my eyes tight. “You tell me right now, young lady, or so help me-“ I didn’t let her finish though, because I opened my eyes, letting the light flood in, and they were filled with her image.
She looked frail and tired. Faint, wearied lines rested at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She was too young for these wrinkles, only 39.
She let out a truly exhausted sigh, closed her eyes, and pressed her free hand to her forehead, “I don’t wanna fight with you, baby, just tell me where your sister is.”
“With Jason,” I told her quietly, watching her wince at the name of Marissa’s boyfriend. She despised him but was too busy with Johnny to do anything about it which Marissa insisted on rubbing in her face.
I glanced out the window, where was she? I’d watched her get ready, do her hair and makeup, wear clothes so tight I was embarrassed to look at her, clothes Momma didn’t even know she had. I’d seen Jason before, he was a senior at my school, I was a freshman. I’d seen Marissa hang all over him and bat her eyes and act all ditzy, it made me sick. He called me kid.
“Do you know where?” Momma asked impatiently, following my eyes to the window. I shook my head.
She turned and left without turning out the light. It wasn’t until I heard the jingling of keys that I realized she was gonna go look for her. A pair of headlights flashed in the window. I ran it, bare fleet slapping against the cold floor. It was Jason’s truck, a big green one.
“He fixed it up himself,” Marissa had boasted.
I stared out the window as the truck pulled up and stopped. Momma stood on the front lawn, hands on her hips.
Marissa climbed out of the truck, waving flirtatiously at Jason, giggling and hurried to the house. She saw Momma and froze. I turned back to my bed, flopping down with the pillow over me head. I didn’t wanna hear the fighting.
One more question.. do you think she sounds too young to be a freshman?
