The Disturbed Girl's Dictionary by NoNieqa Ramos

Author:NoNieqa Ramos [Ramos, NoNieqa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fiction-Young Adult, Young Adult Fiction, Bravery, Carolrhoda Lab, Contemporary, Danger, Diversity, Family & Relationships, Friendship, LGBTQ, Love, Multicultural, NoNieqa Ramos, Poverty, Realism, Teenagers, The Disturbed Girl's Dictionary, Trauma, Women
ISBN: 9781541516687
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group
Published: 2017-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Field Trip

Verb. Emphasis on the word trip, as in tripping out.

My mother comes into the house holding a giant Hefty bag of groceries. The bag is slit on the side, and she’s struggling to hold everything in.

“What the fuck, Macy? I found this outside. A milk gallon exploded! Why did you throw the groceries out on the lawn?”

“Give me a minute to make something up.”

“Fuck you. You know how much money Manny—”

“Yeah, yeah, Manny spent all his crack money on us. Maybe if you’d get a job—”

“Shut up, bitch, I been applying all over the place!” She tried to get a job at WalMars, she tells me. The leader of the WalMartians called her, she says, and left a voicemail.

She forgets all about the groceries and pulls out her phone. Puts the message on speaker so I can hear. It’s a manager. He says Thank you for applying. We have had over one thousand applications. We are sorry to say we cannot offer you a position at this time, but we encourage you to apply again and wish you good luck on all your future endeavors.

“What the fuck?” she says.

What the fuck, I think. Over a thousand applications to be a cashier? “Don’t sweat it, Ma. Probly easier to get into Harvard.”

“It don’t matter,” she says. “I interviewed for a job at the Taco Garage.” The Taco Garage is called that because you can get tacos on the inside and get your car washed on the outside.

When my mother gets the call from the manager of Taco Garage three days later, it’s like we’ve won the lottery.

She says to me and everybody she can get on the phone that we are going to buy our own washing machine and a dryer. We could get a new stove in the kitchen (See B for Burners) so we can cook without being electrocuted. I say, “How about some toilet paper?”

She says, “How about just a sock?” This means I should stuff it. In my pie hole.

I say, “I need socks too.” She throws a shoe at me. “Shoes too!” I say, ducking a flying Big Red. Kaboom. “And Fabuloso!!!” (See F for Fabuloso.)

On my mother’s first day of work, she says George and I can stop by for some free chips. George and I head over after school to see this momentous shit take place. Somebody is going to be a boss of my mother. Somebody is going to tell my mother where, when, how, and how much.

George and I watch my mother work. She carries around a pad and pencil and asks people what they want, very official-like. She says words I have never heard her say like: What can I get for you? This is different from her usual: What, are your damn legs broken? Get it yourself. But like the immortal Tupac said, I Ain’t Mad. I like watching her write down orders. When I peek over her shoulder I can see the fancy swoop of her letters. I’ve never really seen her write anything before.

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