Triangles by Ellen Hopkins

Author:Ellen Hopkins
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-10-30T11:40:39+00:00

Holly

POSSIBLY THE BEST DAY

I’ve ever spent at Wild Waters.

Last time I went, I looked about

like a beached manatee. No way

would I have worn a two-piece,

let alone a teeny bikini that makes me feel every bit as appealing as

girls here half my age. Andrea,

of course, does not approve.

Every time a guy meanders by,

copping a feel with his eyes,

she gives him a dirty look. Who

does she think she is? My mother?

Ha. Mama would have grabbed

me up by one ear and given me

total hell for wearing this. Are you up there, Ma? Whaddaya think?

I adjust my sunglasses, settle

back into the lounge chair,

notice a dark froth creeping

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up over the Sierra’s lip. “Storm.”

Andrea assesses. Maybe. But not for a couple of hours. The kids will be worn out by then. And

if it comes, rain will be a blessing.

True enough. The heat has been

relentless, barely a breeze to cool the evenings. The wind kicks up

a little now, though, carrying

the scent of cooking hamburgers.

“Doesn’t that greasy grill smell

delish? I didn’t eat breakfast

and I think I’m starving to death.” I packed a couple of salads

and some watermelon. Organic.

Help yourself. I can always buy Harley a hot dog or something.

“No way. I want french fries!”

As I dig for money, a low varoom rattles the sky. “Thunder. Not sure your weather prediction was accurate.” We’ll see. She watches me get up and start toward the concession

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stand. Hey, when was the last time you even looked at a french fry?

Pretty sure it was a rhetorical

question, so I don’t bother to answer.

Nor am I insulted. Andrea will be

Andrea, as Mama would have said.

THAT’S THE SECOND TIME

Today I’ve thought about Mama.

Weird. Maybe she’s the one stirring up the storm clouds. A little

girl runs screaming by, chased

by her own mother. I would

never have made so much noise

when my parents were close.

Quiet as a sigh kept me out of mind.

I queue up for fries, salivating

just a tad. Andrea was right, actually.

I haven’t given in to temptation—

food temptation, that is—in a very

long time. But all that running

has to allow giving in to temptation once in a while, right? At last,

my fries come up, sizzling oil, and I know every calorie invested will be worth the extra distance run tomorrow.

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Andrea is munching salad when

I get back, but her eyes glom on to the cardboard container, piled

high with crispy shoestrings. No way could a person resist. “Have some,” I offer. At her hesitation, I add, “Please.” There is something intimate about

sharing food, which I suppose is why you only do it with a partner,

a child, or a very good friend. People worth the threat of germs. People

who, in the most basic sense, you want to survive. Thrive. For Andrea

and me, this is a bonding moment.

Or, more accurately, a rebonding

moment. Between our daughters’ falling-out and our lately disparate goals, a wedge has formed between us. Grown.

Probably more my fault than hers,

and so when she puts down her fork, 456/881

forgoes lettuce in favor of sharing fries, the gesture is not insignificant.

WE ARE ALLOWED

A solid four hours of Wild Waters

before the sky bubbles ebony clouds and the rumbled threat of thunder

becomes the promise of lightning.

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