Page 24 of Little Sunshine

It was because my yelling could alert her man to my existence.

“Shut up before someone hears you,” she snapped, looking ready to smack me.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

My voice was even louder. “Fine by me.”

She took a step toward me, violence in her eyes. I didn’t dodge to the side. I didn’t back away. I didn’t cower.

I lifted my chin.

A nonverbal dare.

When she faltered, her eyebrows raising briefly in surprise, I added a verbal one. “Do it, and I’ll scream and scream and scream until this whole fancy-ass neighborhood hears. You can explain who I am and why I’m here.” I looked pointedly at her front door and yelled, “Explain it to every?—”

“I’ll get you your money,” she interrupted, her voice tinged with panic and loaded with anger.

I reared back, more surprised than if she’d followed through with hitting me.

In all the times my mother had stolen from me, she’d never breathed a word about repayment. In her mind, it was all what I owed her. For ruining her body. For ruining her plans.

For ruining her life.

As soon as the words were out, she tried to backpedal. “I just need some time. A few weeks. Maybe a month.”

By that time, I’ll be on the street.

It’ll be like old times, except we won’t have Nan and Pop’s couch to crash on like when I was a kid.

That thought led to another. “If you’re staying here, what happened to Nan and Pop’s place?”

But I knew before her lips pressed into a thin line—her one tell of guilt. It wasn’t one I saw often since she typically lacked the soul to feel remorse.

She rallied quickly, raising her chin like she worried her invisible crown would fall.

The Queen of Trash.

“You mean my house?” She shrugged. “I sold it.”

“When?”

“A few months ago.”

The house had been paid off when Nan and Pop were still alive. It wasn’t much, but it was nice enough. It would’ve sold for a decent amount—especially with the way Veronica likely nickeled and dimed the buyer.

She could bleed a leech before it bled her.

How had she gone through all that money in months?

How could she sell the house without giving me the chance to take any of the sentimental items that were stashed away?

And how the hell was I surprised by anything she did?

I didn’t bother to ask any of those questions. I focused on the only thing that mattered at that point.

“I’m not waiting a month,” I said. “You sold the house, so you should have no trouble giving me my money now.”

“I don’t have it.”

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