My Bestfriend's Brother Is My Tutor

ugh already?" Elena grabs my hand and holds on to it. "Stacy-" "I'm not here for you, Stacy." Jerome stepped forward, stopping at the foot of the stairs. "As much as

who had a nice, funny neighbor and not the one who just found out that her nice, funny neighbor had a daughter who died. "She only likes you enough to borrow stuff." I snickered at my joke. "I'll return this in a minute." "Alright, baby girl." As I walked away, Elena's door closing behind me. All I wanted to do was turn and join them in her house. It didn't make sense. She was such a happy woman. I always thought she never had kids or at least, not one that died. People laugh and people make other people laugh even when they're going through shit. The respect I had for her tripled as I stepped back into our house. Mom's nagging voice welcomed me home. "What took you so long? Your dad is hungry." She snatched the knife from me, a bottle of beer in her other hand. She drinks more when he's around, another reason to hate him. When I got home, they were asleep. They didn't wake up until noon and the first place she entered was the kitchen. Her darling runaway husband was hungry and to her, that meant making a meal in her pajamas while her morning breath followed her around. I hated him so much and as I stared back at Elena's door from the kitchen window, I couldn't help but wonder what they were going to be talking about. I also couldn't help but wonder why the people who deserved to die weren't the ones that died. I may have never met Marilyn but I could tell she deserved to be alive more than my dad did. If it were up to me, I would give his life for hers. And I'll do this for Elena and also for Jerome. *** I couldn't stop staring out the window. Honestly, I didn't want to stop. I wasn't getting anything except for the occasional cars that sped past the street. I still continued looking out, praying I would magically hear what Jerome and Elena were talking about. "Can you go to the store today? I need to get chickens for Thanksgiving." Mom was stirring the peas on the pan. I turned around, back pressed into the sink. "Why?" "It's Thanksgiving," she said again. "Didn't you hear me?" chicken is also Dad's favorite, isn't it?" She shook her head and gave me no answer so I tried again. "You said you were low on cash, we don't have to cook up a storm for tomorrow." "It's Thanksgiving." She beamed. "We are cooking up a storm and I'm going to get that chicken with or without your help." The pan continued to sizzle even when she went around to the fridge. Mom worked a couple of jobs. She used to help babysit when I was younger but more folks stopped trusting her with their kids when her drinking problem started so she started working as a customer assistant in Cart Moves. It was a moving and logistics company and also the longest place she had held a job. It's been five years working with them. She worked Mondays to Fridays then spent her weekends as a janitor at my school and the city library. She was a hard worker. It was into her fourth year working with Cart Moves that she saved enough money to move