W\\CKED

Draconian Riffs and Dreadlocks

[Sanny]

"Mira quien apareció!"

That's what Mama said when I walked in the front door. I was late, and it was clear she wanted to see me squirm for it.

"Perdóname," I said, attempting humility but sounding resentful instead.

"You were supposed to be home by four. That's the only reason I agreed to you staying overnight with the Abrams." She looked as frazzled as any mother would who had spent the previous evening at a Halloween party held in a school filled with candy, scary mazes, and costumed kids high on sugar.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention to the time."

I couldn't tell her that it was hard to tear myself away from the fairy tale palace Juliet got to live in and return to the reality of my own mold-infested hovel. Her bed was huge and warm and attached to a bathroom that was really a personal spa. My room was half an attic with creaky boards and a bathroom shared with messy siblings.

"You missed an appointment to look at dolls for your cake."

"I'm too old for dolls." This was a fight I was never going to win, but I still found myself fighting it every time my mother opened her mouth. When I was fifteen, she couldn't afford to throw me a traditional coming-of-age quinceañera, but she'd saved up enough money to throw a belated one this year-right when I'd be turning eighteen. This was her last chance to coddle me before I graduated into adulthood, so now it was impossible to talk her out of it.

"And anyway, I don't want a cake." I followed her into the kitchen. My ten year old brother Marc was slinging spoonfuls of spaghetti loops at our little sister Teresa. She ran around the kitchen table with her arms flung high over her head, shrieking in delight.

The moment Mama walked into the kitchen, they froze.

"Marc." She crossed her arms, staring sternly down at our family's little man. He hid the spoon behind his back. Mama waited with a patience more eternal than the universe. Marc lowered his head. He shuffled over to the sink and dropped the spoon in it. Then he grabbed a towel and began wiping Teresa off.

Mama glanced at the wall clock-which was closing in on six-and then at me. "I have to leave for work. Help your brother clean the kitchen. Make sure he cleans his room while I'm gone."

Marc groaned. "But I wanna play-"

"Clean your room or you'll end up grounded for the rest of the weekend, like your big sister."

My temper flared. "You can't do that! I have plans!"

Mama took her keys off the hook and headed for the front door. "You should've thought of that before you broke your promise."

The second she left, Marc threw the sauce-soaked paper towel on the floor. Teresa, seeking revenge, yanked his hair. Seconds later, they were flying through the house, knocking over everything in sight as Marc tried to tackle the little girl who was half his size and twice as quick.

Swearing under my breath, I grabbed a fresh towel and started cleaning up.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sibs wreaked havoc for almost an hour before I succeeded in tackling Teresa and carrying her up to the room we shared. Fortunately, she was so exhausted that getting her to bed early was easy. Then I herded Marc to his room and told him he couldn't come out until it was clean, which would probably be never.

Finally, I got to drag my tired ass into the living room to relax. Staring at the pillows strewn across the living room, I suddenly felt like napping. Then I noticed someone else already was.