Pennies from Burger Heaven by McKay Marcy

Author:McKay, Marcy [McKay, Marcy]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FICTION/Mystery & Detective/Amateur Sleuth, FICTION/Thrillers/Suspense, FICTION/Literary
ISBN: 9781939889324
Publisher: SkipJack Publishing
Published: 2015-12-28T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

When me and Turdmouth step into the shelter waiting room, Nobodies are already filing into the chapel for chunch. The other “guests” look as cold, hungry and windblown as us. We walk to the end of the line and follow ’em in for the service.

On cue, my belly growls. I can’t believe how greedy it is since we already ate once today.

Mrs. O’Dell’s ham-and-cheese sandwich was delicious.

I tell Turdmouth, “I hate we couldn’t find Carmella.”

“Yeah. It’s like she disapp—oops. Sorry.”

What he almost said sits right before us—our parents’ empty chairs. One-Leg always sits on this back row and Mama over in the middle. Some older teen parks herself into Mama’s spot now. She’s looped, pierced and modded all over her face, with pink, spiky hair and tons of black eye makeup.

The heaviness of missing Mama is too much. I’m glad Turdmouth is here to help me carry it and hope I help lighten his load, too. I give his boot a tap with my shoe.

He tries to smile, but it’s sort of flat. There’s so much sadness in his eyes. He sits beside his daddy’s chair, like yesterday, and crosses his arms. I do the same next to him. My cramped feet are glad for a break. My scrapes and bruises twinge with pain.

The rest of the room looks the same with the Amens all sitting up front together. I knew God was as fake as Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, but I’m still bummed the preacher turned out to be a sleazebag. I can’t help but wonder if Miz Jesus knows he’s a cheater.

They probably won’t come back today. Worry rolls through me again, picturing that baggie of drugs laying on the floor. Who chased Mama from our room? The pig, the preacher, or the gangbanger? The last two are connected somehow. Maybe No-Brains is, too. Is Mama mixed up with all three?

Salt and Pepper wave to us from their seats in the middle. Bird always sits next to Mama when she bothers to show up to feed her boys. Her backwards skunk hair is dirty and matted, sores cover her face. Meth’s eaten up a few more of her teeth. She’s way worse than Mama.

Bird’s kids head towards me, but one of the shelter goons calls ’em back to their seats. They mind him ’cause they can’t eat if they don’t behave. Who knows when their crap-sandwich mama will feed ’em again?

At least Corn Dog’s nowhere to be found.

The electric guitar player starts jamming to their theme song from the side door and walks on in. “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear …”

My stomach lurches as Mr. and Miz Jesus stroll into the room for the second day in a row, waving like it’s a beauty pageant. I can’t believe they’re back. They’re both wearing fancy suits again. This time, navy blue. His bed head’s gone. Her long, ginger hair isn’t real like his, but her insides are way better, and that’s what counts.

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