Michigan
Ma’s sitting at the kitchen table, playing a game of solitaire. A lit cigarette is in her ashtray, and she’s listening to some slow song on the radio.
Solitaire. Cigarette. Slow song. I know what type of mood she’s in.
“Hey, Ma,” I say, intending to rush straight to my room.
“Come here,” she calls to me. She’s mad about something. I hear it in her voice. Did somebody tell her what I did? Not that anyone cares to be a good citizen. They would have told on me just to rub it Ma’s face that her kid’s a thief and we’re no better than them.
“Jason called. He told me you really want to go to that school in Michigan.”
My thoughts quickly change. It’s not surprising that Jason would think I can’t speak for myself. What all did he tell her? Does she know we went to Michigan?
“Yeah, u
