“This isn’t fair.”
“I cannot do this right now. We’ve already talked about
all of this.”
“Actually, Mom, we didn’t talk about all of this. YOU told
me what your plan was for MY summer.”
“Let’s go.” Cop lifts his walkie-talkie. “This is your last
warning, lady.”
Want to scream. Why don’t you go to south Minneapolis,
where you’re actually needed, you piece of crap? Go to my
hood, where there’s always “suspicious activity.”
“Okay. We’ve got to go.” Mom’s hugging me. “I love
you, Liam.”
“Really?” Don’t send me away. Please.
“Send us some postcards,” Fiona says. Declan presses
his face against the window. Patrick stares straight ahead.
Mom’s eyes fill with tears. “This will be a good thing.”
Feel like a balloon that all the air just went out of.
She gets back in the minivan. Grinds it into gear. Leans
toward the passenger window. “See you in three months,
Liam.”
Shite. I give a pathetic wave to the little kids.
Copyright © 2015 by Diane C. Mullen (Author). All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.