“Where’s Mama?” Ana asked, sipping her box of Toddynho.
Ever since Mom had gotten her hooked on it, she refused to drink anything else, even chocolate milk. I didn’t blame her, though; Toddynho was so much better than that s**t.
She handed me the box and grabbed a handful of popcorn out of the pink bag in my lap. I sipped out of the straw and handed it back to her.
“Mom’s working …” At someone’s house again.
After grabbing the remote and turning off the TV, Ana placed the popcorn on the couch beside us and sat in my lap, frowning. “Why’s Mama always working? Even after I get home from school.”
I rubbed my forehead. I hated when Ana asked questions.
She was far too young to really understand why she had to take pills every single day of her life—because she’d end up dead if she didn’t
