BFFs, Siblings, and Casseroles

"What!!!" It was hard to hear Chloe over the yelling of Isa and Michael, Michelle singing Justin Bieber with Holly's niece Jane, and MCR songs blasting through the room. "We rented our house out to a hottie and I'm not even allowed to see him!!! Son of a bitch!!!"

"Yeah. I thought Evan called you and told you." Miss Genevieve had only kicked us out of her house ten minutes ago but I had to tell Chloe. She loved cute guys. "His mom forced him to come over too."

"Shut up! He said there was a terrorist next door and that it was a she. Evan didn't mention that there was a cute guy next door!!!"

"He's your boyfriend. He wouldn't have told you even if he knew you wanted to know."

Chloe paused to bite into something crunchy. "You know Holly has me on a damn diet!!! First she drags me to Ball Sacramento, the lamest place in Cali, and then she forces me to eat carrot sticks. You know she doesn't have any cute guys in her family either. I spent twelve boring minutes talking to her nephew, Dudley."

"How'd that go?"

Chloe bit hard into the carrot. "It was fucking awful! For one, she failed to mention that her nephew was a stoner. Which would've overruled how lame he looked. He looks like Shaggy off of Scooby-Doo. Not the cute one either. Like one of the lame cartoonists. Plus the dude had a gastrointestinal problem so he was farting for hours!!" I could already see Chloe doing her annoyed face where she crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out halfway. I began to giggle. "Plus, to make matters worse, he weighed less than me and was a fucking matchstick! A MATCHstick!!! I bet he was small anyway!"

I giggle again. Chloe grunted from the other line. "I'm going to kill Evan when I get home. So are they moving bombs into the house?"

"No. I didn't see any. But they cleaned up."

"What!!! There is no way those people cleaned all that up. That's fifteen years worth of children and divorce and fighting and hell and back! How did they clean it?!? We couldn't even clean it!"

"You didn't exactly try..." I reminded her.

"So? Even if we did try, we wouldn't have even made a dent. So why try?"

"Did you know the carpet is white?"

"It's beige. It was when we moved in. I've seen old pictures."

"Nope. It was white. I saw it with my own eye holes."

"You are lying."

"Nuh-uh."

"Prove it! Go take pictures."

"I can't. They kicked us out already. But I saw it. I'll ask Tehra for pictures tomorrow. Then, I'll scan them at the library and e-mail them." Monroe was like twenty years behind in technology. Our librarian, Gail Morris, swore that she wanted to go back to Atlanta like she did when she was little and leave Monroe for once and for all but she hasn't left yet. "You'll get them and you'll see I'm not lying."

"There is no way that is possible. we fucked that house up so bad that Holly swore that we were the messiest people she's ever seen and she's a maid for Christ sakes!"

I heard my mother call my name for dinner. Oh please, dear God, be pizza. Saratina's gotta give us a break. She's had Mom's food. "I've got to go eat. Wish me luck. Pray I don't die tonight. She's probably still pissed at me."

"Dear Holy God, don't take my friend away from me. Take her mother's casseroles and burn them in Hell."

"Amen."

"See ya, girl. I'll talk to you later." There was a crash, a bang, and sobs in the background. "Damn it, Michelle!! I said watch Isa!!"

The line died off. I ran down the stairs and was greeted by my little brother Matt. He was covered form head to toe in flour. Oh dear God... What's dinner? I rubbed what was once Matt's blonde hair, sprinkling flour allover the main hall, and we went into the kitchen. It was smoky in there and Violet and my mom were arguing. "But Mom! Everyone has one!!!"

"I don't care! You are way too young to be trying to get a tattoo."

"It's fake!!! It'll wash off in a few days."

"I don't care. You aren't getting a tattoo and that's final!" Mom one, Violet zero. Mom stooped down and pulled out a horrendous casserole out of the oven. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not eating that," Violet said matter-of-fact.

It didn't matter whether she ate it or not. It was just going to come back out soon. Mom could've made a perfect chocolate cake... okay bought a perfect chocolate cake and Violet still would've chosen not to eat it. Whatever she chose to eat, she would just throw up or shit out anyway. She was anorexic, thanks to Junie and Amber's thinness, and she wasn't allowing herself to gain a pound. I didn't blame her for saying she wasn't eating the casserole. It was liquidy and smelled like burnt broccoli and garlic. I was beginning to really miss Chloe living next door. Before, I'd just feed the casseroles to our dog, Sparks, who didn't care what it smelled like, and crawl on my tree over to Chloe's house and just have dinner there. Now, it would just be weird.

"You will eat whatever I say you will. Now sit down and eat this casserole I slaved over for three hours preparing."

"Is that why it smells like poopies?" Matt asked. His little brown eyes were filled with innocence.

He always got to eat a hot-dog or cheeseless pizza Saratina made while I was forced to eat the concoctions my mother considered food. He was lucky he was lactose intolerant. I tried to fake that but I ended up shitting my pants. Not the best party trick when you mother has her new boyfriend and his there kids over. Things didn't really work out after that. I wonder why... "Yeah, baby brother. That's why it smells like poopies. Mom made it."

My mother glared at us. "Table. Now."

Violet groaned and stomped to the table. I took Matt's hand and we followed her over to the table. I helped Matt into his booster seat, which mom insisted on making him sit in even though he was seven. Mom came in about five minutes later. She carried a plain hamburger for Matt in one hand and her casserole dish in the other. There were five bowls balanced perfectly on top of the casserole dish. Mom may not have been able to cook but she could balance stuff on top of other stuff like nobody's business. She set the dishes on the table and began to ladle casserole into the three bowls. When the bowls were full to the point where the acidic stuff was splashing off of the sides, she set one bowl in front of me and one in front of Violet. She took her bowl and sat at the head of the table.

"Bow your heads," my mother said. "Vi, your turn to say grace."

"Damn it. Okay," Violet grabbed my hand and Matt's hand and we bowed our heads while my awful sister crafted up a prayer. "Dear Lord, I pray that you give my mother the sight of cooking and teach her that if its taking more than an hour and a half, it's burnt. I pray that my family lives through this and that Junie and Amber will forgive me for all the calories that I'm putting in my body. Oh! I also pray that Mom changes her mind about the tattoo or she'll rot in hell. Amen."

"Real mature," my mother said. she used a spoon and stirred the weird goopy mess. "This is Peach and broccoli soup. You will enjoy it."

"But peaches and broccoli don't go together," I said. "They are in entirely different sections on that cute little pyramid for a reason. That line is like a barbed wire. Once you cross it, you are officially hurting everyone."

Violet nodded. She stirred the gooey mess with her spoon like it was tea, sploshing it all over the table. I wasn't even going to put my spoon through the awfulness of the contents of the bowl. I wouldn't put anything into or near that bowl without them wearing a Has-mat suit. "So, Junie and Amber get tattoos and I don't. How will I ever be able to go to school again?"

"Well, you shouldn't be worried about that. School isn't for two months. Plus, your face is fine. I'm just not letting you get a tramp stamp that says Juicy. I will let you get butterflies or maybe even an anchor but you will not be getting a tramp stamp or any other tattoo that says Juicy on your body. You may write in Sharpie. You may do it in stickers but yo are not getting anything permanent on your body with that kind of message. Do something else."

"What's a tramp stamp?" Matt asked.

"It's a tattoo on your lower back," I explained. "In the olden days, prostitutes used to get them with their stage name."

"Isn't Daddy's new wife a prostitute, Mommy?"

"Oh dear lord," My mother shoveled casserole into her mouth so that she didn't have to answer.

"Yes, Jenny is a whore," Violet answered. "She got knocked up so Daddy would be stuck with her."

"What's knocked up?"

"Pregnant." Violet looked at Mom to see if she was breaking. Mom toughly chewed and glared back at Violet with a straight face. She was better than me. Violet would've lost a few teeth if she were my daughter. "Isn't Sarah a crack baby, Mom?"

"That's no way to talk about your sister."

"I'm not talking about my sister. I'm asking about Sarah."

"Sarah is just as much your sister as Samantha is."

"Sam," I said.

"Oh just give up. We aren't calling you Sam, kid. You are Samantha to us. Get over it."

"Tramp."

"Samantha."

"That's enough! Eat you goddamn dinner and do not say another word about tramps, tattoos or your father."

"You're just mad because he left you for a tramp," Violet murmured as she put her spoon into her mouth with a tiny bit of peach on it.

"THAT'S IT!" Mom got up and walked towards Violet. Violet ran out of the house with Mom close behind. I poured my casserole back into the dish and went to the front room to watch. I'd walk to Saratina's Pizzeria later. This was too good to miss. I went to the front window and watched as my mom tackled Violet and began to smack her in the mouth. Ass beatings were like the Emmys in Monroe. Totally worth not walking to Saratina's when I had the chance.