Page 25 of You Spin Me

“She’s kidding, Tami.” Abigail rolls her eyes at her sister before narrowing them at me. “You don’t even know who Fluffy is.”

I shake my head and pull them along. “Of course I know who Fluffy is. I was pulling your leg.” I stifle a giggle when Tami looks down to check the leg in question. Seven-year-olds are so literal. Tickle-fighting our way down the hall, I race them to their bedroom. Once inside, I scan the chaotic scene until I locate a new cage in the corner. Their pet mouse died a few months ago, and they must have been ready to replace it. “Fluffy is”—whatever it is, it’s well named because all I see is ball of fur—“this new pet!”

Abigail carefully opens the lid and takes out the furball. “Fluffy is a silkie guinea.”

I nod vigorously. “Of course he is.”

Tamara balls her fists on her non-existent hips. “Fluffy is a girl, duh.”

“Duh, I knew that. Can I hold him? Her? It?”

“After me. It’s Abby’s turn to hold her first this time. Then me.Thenyou.”

“No problem, I can wait.” I flop down on the lower bunk, kick off my boots and curl onto my side. The girls show me all the exciting things Fluffy can do, and I join in by coming up with a voice for the furball. Since her tricks mostly involve eating and running away from them, the dialogue isn’t hard to come up with. “Oh, you can’t catch me” and “Who knew carrots were so darn yummy?” Things like that.

Next thing I know, my sister’s voice is waking me up. “Girls, it’s almost dark. Time to light the candles.”

“Shh. Aunt Jessie’s sleeping.”

“Not anymore,” I croak.

“When did you get here?” my sister asks.

“Um, a while ago? Sorry, ladies. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Esther claps. “No time for naps, let’s skedaddle downstairs. Tamara, you’re on the challah cover. Abigail, you set out the Kiddush cups.” She points at me. “You, tame that hair so mom doesn’t have a cow when she sees you.” She looks me up and down, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Nice outfit.”

As she follows me down the stairs, she tsks, “You’ve lost weight, though.”

Ever since my anorexia diagnosis at the age of fifteen, Esther has worried way too much about my weight. Pulling my hair into the braid I’ve been wearing at rehearsal, I sidestep the comment. “Is Gabe coming?” I can’t even remember the last time I saw my brother.

“No, just mom and dad. He’s out of town for work.” She hugs me from the side and kisses my cheek when we hit the landing. “It’s nice to have you here. I miss my baby sister.”

Soaking up the coziness of my sister’s comfortable home as we make our way to the dining room, I squeeze her back. “I’ve missed you too.”

I hope my parents don’t ask about what’s happening at the school. If I tell them I’m not working there anymore, they’ll freak out and bug me to find another teaching job or something else they can understand. Of course, my dad would also sneak me some cash before I go home, which I could use. I really have to figure out a way to support myself doing what I love.

Sooner rather than later.

CAL

Friday night when I hit line three expecting Jess, all I can hear is coughing. “Hello?”

More coughing.

“Jessica?”

“Sorry,” she answers, her voice scratchy.

“You okay?”

She gulps something. “Just having a coughing fit.”

“I noticed. Are you sick?”

“I don’t know. I might be coming down with a cold.”

“That would suck.”

---