Tinfoil Crowns by Erin Jones

Author:Erin Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YOUNG ADULT FICTION / Performing Arts / General / Family / Parents / LGBT
Publisher: North Star Editions
Published: 2019-05-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

After Fit left the room, Frankie picked up his controller and said to Pistols, “Come on. Let’s finish.” Frankie’s cheeks were red, and his lips trembled. River wanted to explain her decision. She didn’t care if there was a video of herself on the internet. In fact, it had made her happy that Frankie wanted to share something she’d done. But Fit no longer left the room when River entered, she no longer shot her dirty looks when they crossed paths, and when River ate the chicken wings, Fit seemed happy. Happy! River couldn’t risk undoing all those small victories, so she’d taken Fit’s side.

“Forget about the bet,” River said. “We’ll keep business as usual. Me in Dubs’s room. You in here.”

“Whatever,” Frankie said. “I won’t be home tonight anyway so you should sleep in my bed.”

River scolded herself as she left his room. She should have stopped at one wing. That would have been enough to impress them. But she’d gotten cocky, careless, and it had come back to bite her.

That night, after Frankie headed out with Pistols and Dubs left for work, River went into Frankie’s room and began to change the sheets. All his belongings were meticulously kept, his room baring a distinctive white and blue color scheme. It was a far cry from Fit’s room, which was loud and bright with pictures and posters plastered on almost every surface.

Frankie treated his walls like an art gallery of his own work. He rotated the pieces out every month, he had explained to River when she first moved in. There was a note card thumbtacked below each art piece that had the name of the work along with a description.

When River was done changing the sheets, she sat on the bed and looked at the creations on display. He must’ve changed them recently, as River didn’t recognize any of them. One was a red plastic cup covered in googly eyes that was called The Lookout. The next was a picture of a peacock crafted entirely out of Band-Aids (not used, Frankie was sure to point out in the description). And over the foot of his bed was Frankie’s interpretation of The March of Progress, the famous work of art that showed a caveman slowly evolving into a modern-day human. Frankie’s drawing mimicked the picture, but instead of a caveman evolving into modern man, Frankie’s showed Yoshi, a small green turtle-like creature from one of his video games, into Luigi, a human character from the same game who had a mustache and a green hat. River had never been artistically or musically inclined, and the creativity coming from both her children baffled and elated her.

As she tried to sleep, she kept picturing Frankie’s hurt, Fit’s hatred, and was haunted by her own hubris. The images of the fight remained with her at work the next day too. She kept having to spit out the ice chips she was tasting, unable to concentrate on the flavors. After the fifth

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