what Momma said the day we moved into our new place.   

I was told to go straight home after school. To sit by myself in an empty

apartment with no one around while Momma lost herself for long hours with the dirt she puts on her face dreaming of dead faces and the dirty leftover food she eats at work, food leftover from other people’s plates. She will not have to buy groceries or leave the house again and look for a job. No, sir. Not with that kind of

luck. On her off days, I kind of like how she stays home and talks to the wall sometimes. She stays in bed all day talking to family members that don’t exist. Me, I am still required to set two places at the dining room table, one place for me and one for Momma.

That was before I met my new bestest friend. I met her on a Tuesday. The very next day, I was staring out the window at this little girl walking home from school with a group of other kids. They were in a big circle—all different ages, sizes. I watched them toss a big, red ball back and forth and then I was outside. I was looking back at the empty apartment; I was eating a can of sardines with two dirty fingers. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be out but I longed to be outdoors.

I saw the children playing a game. They were kicking a ball around. I longed to be one of them, normal. One of the little girls was about my height and was also looking over at me. She noticed the green of my eyes. She tugged on her bracelet and shook it for me. It was also green. Someone called her name and she turned around. I wanted to point to her but a delivery truck sped by, ruining her perfect day with muddy puddle water. I wanted to laugh and hug her at the same time. I found out later that her name was Billie.