Jimmy started to snicker but Dad’s nasty glare cut him short.
Once again, Dad had got drunk, lost his job and we were moving. Like before, me and my brother each got two drawers — one for clothes, the other for everything else. Mom used to get two, but she wasn’t with us this time. Now they held Dad’s stuff. And we got to ride up front instead of the back.
I didn’t like sitting next to Jimmy. He elbowed and pinched me. I knew better than to say anything. “You shut up, girl, or I’ll do to you what I did to your mother when she whined too much,” Dad warned.
The last time we moved, we stopped at a gas station after dark, While I was in the restroom, Jimmy pulled out one of my drawers and dumped everything in the trash — diary, stuffed animals and dolls. I didn’t find out until the next afternoon. He laughed when I cried. Mom stroked my hair but said nothing.
That was two years ago. I’m 11 now. Jimmy’s still bigger than me. And Mom’s not here. But I had a plan.
For this trip I hid my diary and the things I cared about most in with my clothes. The second drawer had mostly books — paperback, they weigh less. Jimmy filled his second drawer with knives, games and toy guns.
We finally stopped at a motel off the main highway. Dad liked it because there was a rec hall with pool tables next door. Jimmy went with him. I stayed in our room and watched TV. I finally got snacks from a vending machine in the motel lobby.
“Too bad you didn’t come with us,” Dad said when they got back late in the evening. “We had pizza.” And beer, Jimmy mouthed silently.
“That’s OK, I wasn’t hungry,” I lied.
That night, while I was pretending to be asleep, I heard Jimmy slip out and climb up into the truck. He snuck back in quietly so he probably didn’t figure out what I had done.
****
Megan, writing this as an entry in a diary was a clever idea. However, when I assigned the class “What I Did This Summer,” I wasn’t expecting fiction, which I assume this is. I hope all is well. You’ve missed class now for three days straight.— Your teacher