TWO
IT'S A LONG trip to somewhere. I went to the bathroom in Nashville and Lexington. Mama is talking much, and it doesn't seem to be anything left for me to think about except what happened back in Memphis.
I was in my room when I heard the noise. I thought it might be Mr. Purvis coming in the back door of our apartment building, but it wasn't him. It was hot, who had recently become Mama's ex-boyfriend. Huck wasn't happy about that, so he broke our window.
I jumped out of bed at the sound of breaking glass and heard Mama shouting. I went to the living room, where she slept on the couch. Huck was shaking her by the shoulders.
"Nobody leaves the King- you understand that?"
"Stop it!" I screamed. "Stop it!"
"Who is going to sing backup for me now? Huh?"he was shouting. "You think you can just walk away?"
That's when he hauled off and punched her in the eye. I did a flying leap toward him: he pushed me away.
"You keep quiet," Huck warned. But Mama always told me if anyone's trying to hurt you and they tell you to keep quiet, scream with everything you've got. I let loose the biggest scream my skinny body had. it was loud enough to wake the neighbors, who turned on their lights and started shouting.
"We're not done yet," Huck snarled. "We're never gonna be done!" He jumped out the window, ran to his yellow Cadillac, and sped off.
"We're out of here," Mama said, and right then that was fine my me. we packed up fast-threw toothbrushes, wet towels, clothes, food, everything we could grab into plastic bags, and loaded up our Chevy. it was like being on a reality show. How much can you pack before the bad Elvis comes back to get you?
Mama drove us away from Memphis.
I've bee in this car ever since. I feel a tightness on my chest. I feel sweaty. when Huck was onstage sweating like Elvis, Mama would hand him scarves to put around his neck. He'd throw them out to the audience. I couldn't imagine why anyone would be interested in Huck's sweat neck, but he got his share of screaming women reaching for those things.
I roll down the car window
"You okay foster?"
I'm not sure how to answer that. I just want to go someplace where there aren't any Elvises.
Mama pulls into another gas station. "You need to go?"
I head inside the snack shop. nobody is paying attention to me, a skinny girl with long, crazy hair pulled back in a ponytail. a man is getting a slushie, a women is buying Tootsie Rolls, a guy behind the counter shakes a key at me. "Need this?"
I head over and get the bathroom key.
"How's the weather?" he asks
Mister I feel like I've been hit by a tornado. "Weather's fine," I tell him.
I walk to the bathroom, hearing the slap slap of my flowered flip-flops on the floor. Sonny Kroll, my favorite Food Network cook, who can make a meal of anything that's lying around, always says, "Go with what you've got." Well, I have Mama and she has me. I hope Huck has four flat tires and is left in a ditch.
I unlock the door. I wish my daddy was here. I wish that every day of my life. He was in the army. He told me soldiers were always focusing on two big moves--fighting, or leaving a place without too many casualties. *I'm glad to be leaving school in Memphis, because I felt like I was in war in that place.
If daddy hadn't died in the army, there would have been no Huck, Mama would probably be a singer by now, and I'd be on my way to being the first kid cook on the Food Network, touching hearts one baked good at a time.
I look at myself in the smudged, scratched mirror. Mama says I'm distinctive looking. I've got long, thick, curly, crazy hair and a hugely wide smile. My green eyes sparkle when I cook, and I'm told I've got a memorable personality, which is what they want on T.V.
I've got a dream as big as they come.
But it's hard to dream big in a dirty bathroom.
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Mama is humming a song she wrote, "Go to sleep, Little Girl." She'd that to me when I was little. Sometimes a song can get into your heart like nothing else. Mama's been stuck as a backup singer for most of her life, but with all her talent she's really a headliner. She learned how to sing quieter than was her nature, learned how to go "Shoo wop, shoo wop" behind the headline singer Mama knows all the moves.
Mr. Mackey, my fifth-grade teacher,had Mama come in and teach my class how to sing backup. I was so proud. Even Johnny Joe Badger got out of my face when Mama showed up. It was my second-best moment in education. The best moment was when Mr. Mackey asked each of us kids if we knew if any of our family had ever lived in other countries or had unusual lives. I raised my hand and said that my grandpa Mcfee came from Ireland, and Mama's family had roots in Africa, Russia, Sweden, Germany, and the Dominican Republic. Mr. Mackey put pushpins in a big world map for all my countries and said, "No wonder you get along with so many kinds of people, Foster. Look at all this heritage that's part of you. That's something to be proud of."
Mama drove and I fell asleep. I woke up when morning broke out around us. Now we are on a road heading toward green hills. Thick fog hangs down.
Mama peers through the window. "What's that sign say, Foster?" Then she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Baby. I didn't mean..."
I bite my lip as we get closer to the sign.
Mama smiles. "I can see it now. Welcome to Virginia."
I look out the window at the green hills. The road climbs higher. Mama takes some turns and drives higher still, round and round. Then the fog rolls in and covers the car like marshmallow cream.
"Dear God," Mama says. "Help me see."
Dear God, I pray. Help her.
"I've got to pull over."
That doesn't seem like a good idea, but neither does driving. She stops the Chevy and stretches out her neck.
"I'm so tired."
I try to wipe the windshield, but that doesn't help. The fog is too thick to see through. I can see Mama's sweet face and her eyes closing.
"Mama!"
"I'm fine." Her eyes shut again.
I don't know where we are. I don't know where we are going. I don't know if we could be hit by another car that can't see us.
I feel the tightness come on my chest again, but I sit up straight and say out loud, "We're right we're supposed to be."
Mama taught me to say that when I get scared. Sometimes it helps. It would be better if I could see out the window.
"We're right we're supposed to be," I day again.
I hope that God can see us through the fog. Because if he can't, we're in trouble.
Hey guys. We'll this is the end of ch 2. !,!,!,! Plz comment, like, and add this story. COMMENT IF I SHOULD GO TO CH.3?!!!!?!?!?!
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