Strangely Normal - By Tess Oliver Page 0,1

more than willing to skip school days and hang out with Mom making noodle collages and hunting leaves in the park. Even though she had my sisters after she’d reached adulthood, she was still just as silly at parenting, or at least parenting the way society thought proper. Growing up I’d attended more than ten different schools and probably missed thirty percent of my school days. Amazingly, I’d still managed to pull off a college-bound grade point average and once the scholarships were handed out and summer ended, I would be leaving the yellow apartment and the sucky sofa bed for a college dorm.

Sophie hopped down from the bed. “Can I go with you to buy milk?”

“No way. I’m already late.” I kissed the top of her head. “And you walk like a turtle.” Janie laughed wildly at the turtle simile.

“Then bring me some Skittles,” Sophie called as I headed out.

***

A familiar scene met me as I stepped into the parking lot. Our permanently shirtless apartment manager, with the ripped abs of a snowman, was leaning into the engine of his classic car. Fortunately, I was spared the butt crack on this fine morning. “Hey, Eden, I noticed your dad didn’t leave this morning.”

“Yeah? Nothing gets past you, Mr. Deeter.” I trudged down to the sidewalk and walked a wide berth around the putrid smelling garbage cans. The empty lot next to our shabby apartment building was a bustling construction site, and a long string of trucks waited to get in. I waved my hand in front of my face to swipe the dust away. In true construction worker fashion, as if it was part of their job description, the workers all stopped to leer and whistle. I stared down at the sidewalk as I hurried past.

“Sorry about those guys,” a voice called from the front stoop of the construction office trailer. I glanced back.

A tall guy with broad shoulders, a hard hat, and dark sunglasses stood beneath a plastic banner that read Kingston Construction. “They ran out of room at the zoo.” Even from the distance, his smile had impact.

I continued on my milk quest. Fortunately, the mini mart breakfast crowd had not arrived yet. I grabbed up a carton of milk and a small bag of candy for Sophie then paid the guy. Mom’s precious change of a dollar and some quarters and pennies went into my pocket. I turned my face down and scurried past the construction site again. A flurry of whistles pinged off the chain link fencing. This time I wasn’t the center of their attention. A wolf call ripped through the cool morning air. I lifted my face and looked toward our apartment building. Mom was leaning over the balcony buttoning up her shirt.

“Hurry, Eden, or you’ll be late for school.” She waved at the men and then slinked back inside. I moved soundlessly by Mr. Deeter and managed to pass him without notice.

Mom opened the door for me.

“Why do you encourage those guys like that, Mom. They’re annoying.”

“They’re just having fun. I’m going in to brush my hair and let your dad know we’re leaving.”

Sophie and Janie sat at the wobbly table with empty bowls and spoons waiting for breakfast. “Here, Sophie, serve Janie and pour me some too. I’ve got to get my backpack.” As I walked away I heard the distinct sound of hard, round candies falling into the empty bowls. I turned back.

“Not the candy, Sophie, the cereal.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Why not?”

“We don’t have any cereal.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I stomped into the kitchen and swung open the cupboards. Aside from an open box of crackers, a half-eaten jar of peanut butter, and two overripe bananas, they were empty. I plucked the two bananas down and grabbed the milk and empty bowls.

“What are you making, Edie?” Janie squeaked.

“Banana shakes.” I smashed the bananas in the bowls and poured some milk over them.

“But those bananas were icky and black,” Sophie protested.

“That black stuff makes them sweeter.” I placed the bowls on the table. “Now drink your shakes.”

“Shouldn’t there be ice cream in them if they’re shakes?” Sophie called.

“Just eat, Sophie.” I dashed to the closet to grab my backpack.

Mom stepped out of her room with her sandals in one hand and the remainder of a joint in the other.

I looked pointedly at the joint.

“I need it this morning for my nerves. I’m worried about your dad. He is really down about losing this job.”

“Whatever. Let’s just go. I’m going to