Olivia

Olivia was thirteen,

and everything her mother said

was embarrassing and stupid.

Her mother picked her up from volleyball practice

wearing an old sweatshirt and leggings,

and Olivia didn’t talk to her

for the rest of the night.

She didn’t mind her dad as much,

but she saw him one weekend a month,

if he didn’t have some work thing.

He was dating some woman named Carolyn.

Carolyn was very pretty,

and her house was very clean.

She smiled at Olivia with clenched teeth.

Olivia’s mother sang along to the radio in the car.

Olivia sighed loudly,

and her mother sang a bit more quietly

and then stopped.

“You’re so grouchy all the time now,”

her mother accused.

“Whatever,” Olivia replied.

She picked at the peeling pink nail polish

on her right index finger.