Strangely Normal - By Tess Oliver Page 0,5

of town.” She tucked the paper in my hand. “Think about it. This is my cell phone number. Call me if you decide to do it and I’ll make the arrangements.”

I tucked the paper into my jeans. “Thanks, Mrs. Vickers. I’ll think about it. Is it all right if I go clean out my locker? It looks like I’m not coming back to school again.”

Her eyes watered behind her thick lenses. “Of course, Eden. And I truly am sorry.”

I hugged her briefly and plucked up my backpack. The hall was still crowded, but people were starting to shuffle to first period. The glass doors at the end of the hallway swung open and my dad stepped inside. The top half of his long hair was pulled back and tied at behind his head and he was wearing a silver hoop in each ear. It seemed like every face in the crowd turned to look at him. He was definitely different than most dads, and I was glad.

He spotted me and the silent apology on his face made me break into a full run. I ran into his waiting arms and cried.

***

I spent the rest of the day flopped on the couch between my two little sisters watching mind-numbing preschool shows. Sophie had recently learned to braid hair and she’d just finished her tenth braid in my hair when Mom came out of the bedroom. Her eyes and nose were red from crying, and she had a giant wad of tissue clutched in her hand. She picked up Janie and pulled her into her lap as she plopped down next to me.

Her head leaned against my shoulder. “I have to be the worst mother in history,” she sniffled.

“No, you’re not, Mom. Hamster mothers eat their own babies. Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll still have my diploma.”

“You’re such a good kid.” She grabbed hold of my arm and squeezed. “How did I deserve such a good kid?”

“You raised me, Mom. I think you can give yourself some credit.” I’d been the one to suffer a nightmarish morning but instead of Mom comforting me, I was comforting her. Growing up, it was something I’d found myself doing a lot. And while my college dreams had been temporarily smashed, I’d managed to overcome the disappointment quickly. I’d had a lifetime of practice.

She squeezed my arm harder and sniffled again. Janie twisted around in her lap and pressed her tiny finger against Mom’s red nose.

“Mommy is Rudolph.”

We burst out laughing and a tickle fight ensued. As usual, the Saxon family luck had gone sour. My college dreams had been temporarily washed away by the morning’s tsunami of shitty events, and I was going to miss out on my high school graduation. We had a yellow-stained apartment, bare cupboards, and a family car that was ready for the junkyard, but we had each other and that was all we needed.

CHAPTER 3

“Are you shitting me? Nicky King. Nicky fucking King,” Dad said for the thousandth time as he paced around our small front room.

Mom and I watched in total amusement as he walked into the bedroom and returned with his small CD player and a Black Thunder CD in his hand.

“Not too loud, Jack. The girls are sleeping.” Mom reached across the table and took hold of my hand. “But you’ll be living with strangers all summer.” While Dad was ready to ship me off tomorrow, Mom had not yet come to grips with the idea.

“Nicky King is not a stranger.” Dad pushed play and his favorite song fired up. He turned down the volume and joined us at the table. “He’s Nicky King, one of the greatest rock singers of all time.”

“Do you know him personally?” Mom asked.

Dad pressed his hand to his chest dramatically. “Yes, Woman, I do. Right here in my heart and soul.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have his name tattooed on your ass,” I said.

“How do you know I don’t? Have you ever seen my ass?”

“Yes, unfortunately there was the dropped towel incident four years ago that I still haven’t recuperated from.”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that.” He leaned back in the chair and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Nicky King,” he muttered again.

Mom looked at him disgustedly. “You don’t even say my name with that much admiration.”

Dad leaned forward, took hold of her chin, and kissed her. “Rebecca.” He pronounced her name with deliberate slowness.

“Please, Dad, we eat on this table. And I haven’t actually decided to do it yet. I