The Tracks by Sally Royer-Derr (little readers TXT) 📕

one of them up and gave it a sniff. He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, they have to go.”

“We have some old pillows at home,” I said. “I’ll bring some tomorrow.”

I touched one of the yellowing drawings on the wood-paneled wall. Kind of an abstract piece of art with disjointed angles and several floating eyes inside different shapes. Squares, rectangles, and triangles lent a confusing and kind of mesmerizing quality to the picture. I felt like I couldn’t take my gaze from its grasp.

“I call that my State of Confusion,” Tommy said. “It’s a perfect example of my life.”

“It’s good,” I said. “Chaotic. Why is your life so confusing? Because you never knew your father?”

“That’s part of it, I guess.” He frowned. “The other part is the piece-of-crap boyfriends my mom keeps bringing home.”

“I can’t even imagine my mom bringing home a boyfriend. That would be so weird.” This was something I’d been thinking about lately. It wasn’t inconceivable that Mom might have a boyfriend at some point. But the thought of some guy trying to replace my father made me sick. Nobody could replace him. I didn’t want anybody to even try.

Tommy looked at me. “It’s not the weird part that bothers me because it’s not strange for me. She’s had a couple of okay boyfriends, like the guy who used to take me to the dump. It’s the assholes who like to beat the shit out of me I have a problem with.”

I stared at him. “They hit you? Doesn’t your mom do anything?”

“Nope. But they eventually leave for one reason or another. Mom’s not very good at maintaining relationships.”

“That’s why you spend most of your nights down here or at the tracks.”

He nodded. “I’d rather be anywhere than at my house. The tracks and this clubhouse are the best home I’ve ever had.”

I didn’t want to be at my house either. But for different reasons than Tommy. The trailer wasn’t my home. Not the place I’d learned to ride a bike, or where I used to crawl into my parents’ bed when thunderstorms came late at night. Not the place we’d decorate gingerbread houses with sugary red and green gumdrops. I’d lick the sugar off every single one until someone noticed and told me to stop. Not the place that Mom was happy, and Dad was alive. The trailer was just someplace I slept and ate.

But to have a house I was scared to go home to was something I couldn’t imagine. One thing I did know was that my parents loved me. My heart ached thinking about Tommy being hurt, not being wanted in his own home.

“So, why haven’t you been down here for so long?”

“I used to come here every day. First building the clubhouse, and then just hanging out. But some things changed, and I haven’t been able to get here.”

“Now you can.” I stared at him. “Why do I think you’re not telling me something?”

Tommy shrugged. “Things change, Emily. Nothing stays the same forever.”

***

Nothing stays the same forever. Tommy’s words rang through my mind as I helped Mom unload groceries from the car that she’d bought earlier in the day. I knew nothing stayed the same. If it did, Dad would be here making jokes like he usually did. Mom would pretend to get mad, and he’d kiss her and laugh, telling her she was so easy to tease. She’d smile, a real smile, one I hadn’t seen on her since he’d died, and say, “Why did I marry you?” He’d say, “Because you love me. And I make the best omelets you’ve ever had.” They’d laugh like a couple of kids. I always thought they acted corny, but now I saw how sweet it all was. I missed it.

Mom looked exhausted today, like she did most days. Her shoulder-length dark hair was pulled back in a plain brown clip. She wore hardly any makeup, maybe just a little face powder and mascara. Lip balm on her lips. She abhorred lipstick, as did I, and cherry Chapstick was our choice of lip color.

She removed the boxes and cans methodically from the white plastic grocery bags. I glanced at the wall. One o’clock. She had three hours until she started her shift at the steakhouse. She’d worked until eleven last night, after working all day in the insurance office. No wonder she was exhausted.

“Mom,” I said. “Let me finish this. Why don’t you take a nap before you have to go to work tonight? You seem really tired.”

A smile formed across her soft face. She touched my cheek as she set a box of macaroni and cheese on the kitchen table. “Thank you, Em. I’d like that a lot, but I’d like to talk to you more. I was surprised you didn’t go shopping with me today.”

“I had some stuff to do,” I said. I opened the refrigerator. I put the gallon of milk and two cartons of eggs inside. “With a friend of mine.”

“Oh, do you have a new friend?”

“Yeah, for the past few weeks.” It was odd that I hadn’t told anybody about Tommy yet. I usually hung out with him when nobody was home at my house, and I didn’t have friends I saw out of school. Everyone was in a clique, and I was the outsider. That stupid sleepover I’d gone to the other week was an incredible bore. I wouldn’t even want to be their friend. Those girls were lucky to have one brain between the three of them. I knew that wasn’t nice. But it was true.

Now that I thought about it, I guessed it was strange I hadn’t told anyone about Tommy. I spent nearly every day with him.

“That’s nice,” Mom said. “I’m glad you’re making friends. Maybe we…” The phone rang. “Hello,” she answered. She glanced at the strawberry-shaped