The slap knocked her clear off her feet and she fell to the floor.
“What do you think you’re doing in my room?”
Erin cupped her blazing cheek. “Where’s Momma?”
“What did I tell you about coming in here? Go to your room!”
The clink of his belt buckle had her scurrying off the floor and racing to her bedroom. She slammed the door tight and dragged a chair across the carpet, wedging it tightly under the knob.
“Next time I catch you in my bedroom I’ll give you something to cry about!” Her dad’s fist hit the door and she flinched.
Crossing to the farthest wall, she slid her back down the plaster and watched the door.
Momma was gone. She left without even saying goodbye, left them here with him.
Like all the other times he hit her, Erin couldn’t go to school until the bruises healed. When she finally returned, Finnegan was thrilled and confused.
“You’re back!”
“I never left,” she said through gritted teeth. Afraid to show any emotion at school with so many watching, she kept her eyes hard and her stare cold.
“So your momma stayed?”
She knew Finnegan was only asking as a friend with her best interest at heart, but she couldn’t bear his cheer. “No, she didn’t stay,” she snapped. “Why would anyone stay here if they had somewhere better to go? Not everyone gets to live in some big storybook house on a mountain, Finnegan. Some of us just live in shitty little houses with shitty little lives.”
“Erin Montgomery, did I just hear a swear come from your mouth,” Mrs. Clemons asked, arms crossed as she stared down at Erin’s unfinished worksheet. “Finnegan, scoot your desk away from Erin’s and finish your work in the back. Erin, come up to my desk.”
“Great,” Erin grumbled as she slammed down her pencil.
Two days of detention and she’d earned an extra punishment for her language at home, which led to more time out of school and a big fat SEE ME on her math test the following week.
“I’m not raising lazy fools!” her father yelled when she was required to get a parent’s signature on her test.
“I missed a lot of school, Daddy. It’s not my fault.”
His cold glare caused her to shuffle back a step. “And whose fault is that?”
The breath in her lungs chilled and she trembled, pulling into herself without moving an inch. Her bones hurt at the mere thought of him hitting her again. “I’ll do better, Daddy.” The words rushed out, a shaky plea for mercy.
“You better.” He crumpled the test. “Throw this trash away.”
“No, don’t rip it! I have to return it with a signature.”
“Tough.” He tossed it in the bin on top of the soggy garbage. Shoving back from the table, he jerked open the fridge. Erin flinched when he slammed it shut and all the jars rattled. “Where’s your brother?” He yanked open the cabinets and slammed one after another until he finally pulled out a can of SpaghettiOs and tossed it on the counter. “Heat this up. Your mother left no food in the pantry.”
When he left the kitchen, she stared at the can, not a clue how to work the stove or how to cook food. Her jaw trembled and fury rose inside of her.
Since starting middle school, Harrison was never around. He was on the football team and Dad liked when customers talked about his games. He never lit up with pride when he talked about her, mostly because he didn’t talk about her. He only yelled at her when she was in his way or doing something bad.
Erin’s fury shifted to resentment when she cut her finger on the SpaghettiOs can. Resentment boiled into anger when she burned her palm on the metal handle of the saucepan. Sitting across from her father as they ate the overcooked mush was excruciating and she wanted nothing more than to escape to her room.
“You’ll have to make the crumb cake.”
A boulder filled her stomach and she blinked up at him. “I…I don’t know how.”
“So, you’ll learn. It’s about time you contributed around here. The recipe’s in the book. You have to follow it exactly and make one every day after school. The customers at the hardware store count on it, and if you want somethin’ better than canned noodles to eat, you’ll give the customers what they want. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”