The three of us, Mom, my older sister Becky and I sat at the kitchen table eating dinner,

hotdogs,

baked beans,

and macaroni and cheese.

Mom started playing her favorite game of twenty questions.

“How was school?

What did you do?

Did you get any grades back?

Do you have homework?

Have you made any new friends?”

Every night she asked the same endless stream of questions with no pause for me to answer.

Not having a chance to answer was fine because I did not want to tell her that school sucks and I have no friends.

The others in school know what I am, and they let me know.

I’m trailer park trash.

I live in a trailer park next to the railroad tracks;

nobody wants to be friends with trailer-park trash.

I would never tell Mom that.

She works hard and she wants to do better for us.

She doe not always understand because she did not come from poor.

She fell into poor.

I believe the reason we cram around the kitchen table for dinner is so we are more like the normal families who live in houses with dining rooms.

Becky interrupted, “Mom in home economics class we are doing sewing.”

“That’s great dear.”

“Do you want to know what I’m going to make?”

“Sure.”

“I’m making a prom dress.”

“We can’t afford that, a prom dress is costly.”

“I know it could be expensive, but I think I will be asked to the Junior Prom.”

“You’re only a freshman.”

“Yeah, but if your date is a junior you can go.”

Mom quit her game of twenty questions with me to play with Becky.

“Who’s the boy?”

“Where does he live?”

“Why would a junior be asking a freshman to the prom?”

I could answer that one.

 

Because Becky has a reputation, boys who date Becky don’t need to spank the monkey.

“Sewing my prom dress will save you money.

You won’t have to buy me one.”

“I’m not sure I like you going out with older boys.”

“Please, please, please”

I wondered if her date would have to say please three times or just undo his zipper.

“You can make the dress, but pick a simple pattern with inexpensive fabric.

But I am not saying yes to you going to the prom.

I would like to meet this boy before I say yes.”

“Thanks, Mom, you’re the best.

His name is James Smith, I think you already met him,”

Becky took a bite of her hotdog.

“I’m not saying this boy is, but sometimes older boys prey on younger girls, so they can.”

Mom glanced at me.

She had my full attention.

I liked watching Becky squirm.

“Well, just don’t do anything you shouldn’t.”

“Mom!” Becky did a great job on the sweet girl act.

I saw an opportunity to have fun, “What shouldn’t she do?”