Free Lunch: List 3

The stuff they scream at each other. She says these cruel things. Then he says real horrible stuff back. And it just gets worse. Escalates till the hitting.

Then he starts again, “I bet there are cameras hidden all over this cafeteria. They’re recording us, and we’re all part of some big social experiment, conducted by the government. Psychiatrists are probably watching us right now, trying to decipher the riddle of today’s youth.”

“That’s telekinesis,” Ethan says. “Good choice. I’m glad you didn’t say you’d want to fly. Everyone says that. That’s such an easy one.”

Ethan starts laughing. “I don’t go to church. I’m agnostic.”

Mom raises her eyebrows and smirks, like she just won a prize. “You’ll go to hell for saying that, you little heathen.”

Ford is still crying and thrashing, wanting to go with them. Instead Mom leans down and gives us this awkward hug from above.

I try to distract him. First with some books, then with toys. I try to play with him, but he won’t have it.

The sun glints off his wet cheeks. Droplets are trapped on his long lashes.

I shrug, saying, “Sorry. He has a lisp.”

The cheesy bread is awesome ’cause it comes with two dipping sauces. I can never decide which I like more: ranch or marinara.

Charlie looks around for adults, then pulls a flask from his jean jacket. He takes a sip, then passes it to the two boys from the nice neighborhood. They drink a little and pass it to Brad. He takes a swig and his face goes all sour.

“That sounds dangerous. Can’t you die from suffocating?” Benny says. I think the same thing, but I’m glad Benny says it.

He starts to squeeze, and Benny’s face starts to turn red. His freckles seem to glow, making his face look like a giant strawberry. He starts slapping his brother’s arm. Benny is shaking his head, and starting to flail. Like he refuses to pass out.

While I use the store’s water hose to clean Ford’s face, sirens blare past us.

Their dad is screaming at them while the paramedic tries to calm him down.

“What? No!” I say, trying to pry myself loose.

Ethan waves from our usual table. When I sit down, I wince, scrunching up my whole face.

Ethan’s eyes get all big. He takes a deep breath. “Man. I wasn’t ready for this. This is a heavy philosophical discussion.”

Ethan is staring at me and I realize my eyes are all welled up with tears, ’cause I’m on the verge of crying.

She eats every single bite on her plate. She always does. She uses the bread to soak up the last of the meat juices and catch the little pieces of sauerkraut. Like she appreciates every morsel.

“Dear God, we thank you for this meal that you have provided us. We thank you for each day’s blessings and for allowing us to be together on this wonderful day. We ask that you continue being bountiful and giving—” Abuela continues to pray for a long time.

She shoves me, pushing me so hard, I fall backward, my head slamming into the wall. The room goes hazy for a minute, but this is nothing.

“Everyone loves you. With your perfect job! And your perfect house! And your perfect money!” Mom bellows. “You’re just so perfect!”

I can’t stop shouting. It’s like when Mom goes crazy, so do I. Her insanity is contagious.

I look at the mess of food crushed all over the kitchenette, crunched into dust on the linoleum.