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“Franks can go to middle school there if we have an address in the district. They’ve got better teachers.”

“Frankie’s not smart enough for it to matter.”

“Yeah, she is.”

My mom sighs. We’ve had this argument before. “You have enough money for rent and a security deposit?”

“Yeah, but

if we want someplace nice you’re going to have to be working, too.”

“I quit the prison,” she says. “I can’t work at the same place Bo’s at.”

This isn’t true. She was fired.

Bo told me he argued with the human resources people for an hour, trying to get them to keep her on. He’s been there fifteen years and thought he might have enough pull. In the end, though, Mom wasn’t worth their waiting on her to come back.

One more lie. One more disappointment.

Shrug it off.

“You still have Dad’s car?” I ask.

“Yeah, but I told Jack he could have it.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He always liked that car, and he wanted to have something of Wyatt’s.”

“I can’t keep driving Bo’s truck if I’m not paying him rent money and you’re treating him like you are. Where’s that leave us? One job and no fucking car—how are we supposed to get by?”

“I don’t know, West! I can’t cope with all this with your dad gone!”

“When could you cope with it?” I snap. “When? When could you ever cope?”

“Don’t take that tone with me!”

“I’ll take it if you deserve it! All you’ve done since he got shot is cry and feel sorry for yourself and then cause a fight you could’ve stopped at the funeral. It’s over, Mom. We’ve got to move on, because there’s shit to figure out—where we’re going to live, how we’ll get new school clothes for Frankie, a physical. Is she still on the state health plan?”

“Your dad took her off it.”

“Jesus fuck. So we’ve got to get her back on and sign up for the Oregon Trail card again. The funeral about cleaned me out, but I’ve got enough money left for a cheap car. If you can get a job nights, I’ll stay on days at the landscaper, and I’ll find an apartment on the bus route so Franks can get to school. I think—”

“West.”

“What?”

She’s rubbing her hands over her face. She looks pale, smells ripe. “I can’t do any of that.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t … I can’t think. I can’t sleep. I want Wyatt. It’s hard for me to even see you, you look so much like him, and—”

“Just don’t look. Don’t think. I’m not asking you to think. All I’m asking you to do is help me get Frankie sorted, get this paperwork rolling. I’ll put you on my accounts at the bank. We’ll do the lease in both our names, and that way—”

“West,” she interrupts again, her voice a whisper.

“Fucking what?”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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