Wire Mesh Mothers

46

Her tummy hurt. She only had her ankles tied together because the girl with the knife — she didn’t have a gun anymore — had said, “You’ll sit in the back and behave, won’t you? If you don’t make any trouble I’ll let you watch all the T.V. tonight that you want. Don’t know where we’re staying, but if there’s a T.V. you can pick, okay?” The girl had even given her two Burger King biscuits instead of just one this morning after they left the motel room. The girl had said, “Got a few bucks from Blessing. So I’ll be generous, just this one time. He’d like that.”

But now she didn’t feel very good. She felt hot and cold all at once, and her arms and legs hurt like she’d had to run the mile on the school track. She wanted to be home at the trailer. She wanted to lay on the sofa with her head on the football-shaped end pillow, the fuzzy brown one with the black yarn stitches. She wanted to see Princess Silverlace. She didn’t like this trip. The teacher was wrong. It wasn’t fun, it was terrible. And she was sick.