Page 54 of Spit Screen

“I love you, too,” I mumble.

Mom winks at me. “I know, Vicki.”

I’m glad when Mom closes my door. Sometimes, I wish I was more like Hannah. She’s always with Mom. I spend more time with Momma wheneveryoneis home. But I always know my mom is here. People love my mom. I know they do. They don’t love her more than me.

Another knock on my door. Geez! I said I loved her!

“Come in,” I say.

“Vicki?”

Hannah and Noah are standing at my door.

“I thought you were having cookies?” I ask.

Hannah reaches into her pocket and pulls out a chocolate chip cookie.

“Don’t be sad, Vicki,” Noah says.

I roll my eyes. “Come in here,” I tell them. “Close the door before Grandma realizes you stole another cookie.”

Hannah giggles.

“I’m not sad,” I promise.

Hannah hands me the cookie.

“Thanks,” I say. I break it into three pieces, and Noah grins.

“Come on, we can sit on my bed and play a game until it’s time to leave.”

“Really?” Hannah asks.

Something tells me she’s about to suggest Candyland. God, I hate that game.

“Candyland!” Hannah says.

I knew it. “Okay. Get Candyland.”

My moms can be so weird. They giggled on the way to the pizza place more than Noah does when he finds a worm. It was weird. Then they made mushy eyes at each other while we ate dinner. I’m glad we’re at school now. Maybe they’ll act like normal parents again.

Hannah grabs both of our moms’ hands and pulls them towards some pictures on the wall. “Look!” she says.

I hold Noah’s hand and stand beside Momma. Wow. Hannah is only five, and she can draw better than me. Most of the stuff at this show looks like blobs and stick figures. Hannah’s picture kind of looks like Mom and Momma. Momma is holding a fishing pole—I think that’s what it is. Mom is making cookies. I’m not sure if Mom is making cookies at the pond or if the pond is supposed to be in our kitchen. Noah would love a pond in the kitchen.

“It’s beautiful, Hannah,” Mom says.

Hannah looks up at our parents and grins.

A voice behind us makes everyone turn. “Hello.”

“Oh, Mrs. Morrison,” Mom says.

“I didn’t think I’d see you,” Hannah’s teacher says.

“I wouldn’t miss Hannah’s big night.”

“I’m glad to see youallhere,” Mrs. Morrison says. She looks at me. “Hannah tells me you’ve been reading to her.”

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