Storm

Chapter 11

"I hate them, I hate them, I hate them!"

Marylou slammed her fist on the kitchen table, eyes up towards Grandma Teresa's kind blue eyes.

"Take off your shoe, honey."

"Why can't I live with you? You said the Super Security people could make me live with you."

"It's Social Security." Her grandmother tousled her hair. "And I'm still talking to them. These things take time, Marylou. The sock too."

"It's nothing, it doesn't hurt anymore." Marylou paused. "If I didn't come back they wouldn't even notice, I bet."

"I'm sure they wouldn't, but if I took you in without their authorization, that'd be kidnapping." Her grandmother took her little feet in her lap and examined the sole. "Did you wash it with soap like I told you?"

"Yes," Marylou said, grumpy. "It's fine, grandma."

Grandma Teresa pulled a cotton ball and some patch and made an improvised band-aid for Marylou's foot. "There you go. Now be careful next time where you walk around that house. Your parents aren't exactly neat people."

Marylou put her shoe again. Grandma Teresa got up and went for the counter to refill her mug.

Marylou stared at the back of her grandma's head. "They use drugs, don't they?" she asked, before she could stop herself.

"What?" Teresa turned back.
"That glass thing I stepped on, it's a drug pipe. My friend Billy told me."

"Which friend? At school?"

"No. He lives in the trailer park with us. He said his brother has the same kind of pipe. He said it's for drugs."

Grandma Teresa seemed to think about this for a very long time. Finally, she returned to the table, sat down and smiled. "Don't you worry, honey. You'll come and live with me soon, and I promise I don't keep any glass pipes in the house. Okay?"

"But it's for drugs, right?"

Grandma Teresa stirred her mug, then blew on it. Then she said, simply, "Yes. It's for drugs."

"Okay."

They drank in silence.

"Grandma Teresa?"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared of them."

"Of your parents?"

"Yeah. When they laugh. When they use the glass pipe... thing. I get scared."

"Why do you get scared?"

Marylou shrugged. "I don't know. They get different."

"Do they hurt you?"

"No. They just get really happy. But it's a weird happy."

Grandma Teresa looked down, and for a really long time it looked like she was hunting for the right words. Finally she took Marylou's hands on hers and said, "Do you know what you're supposed to do if you find a black bear in the woods, Marylou?"

"Run like hell?"

"No. That's the worst thing you can do. Every survivalist will tell you the same thing: if you see a black bear, never run. Because if you run, then the bear will know you're scared of it, and it will chase you.