Authors: S. E. Campbell
How to Get Dirt (5 page)
But what if it
'
s too much money?
Yet Pickles knew
this wasn
'
t something
Miranda wanted to hear, so instead she stepped forward, into the world of bright colors and clothes
which
she had never before known. She couldn
'
t
believe she
would actually get something
. It
wasn
'
t like it
was Christmas or her birthday
either.
She
turned
around
to see
a pair of
bright blue pants with sparkles
embedded
in the material
. A rack of
shirts
which
would hang
down to
her
thighs
came with
black belt
s to go
around the waist
. On a shelf above the rack,
sparkling earrings
glinted in the store lights.
S
he couldn
'
t wear
those
because she didn
'
t have her ears pierced
. Sun
glasses so large they
would
engulf half he
r
face
, perched on a rack next to the earrings
.
As her gaze slid from one item to the next,
Pickles
suddenly
spotted the one thing in the
store she
wanted, the one that called to her heart more than anything else.
It was a cowboy hat. A cowboy hat with a red rope tied across
the brim
. She stepped forward, selected it, and then put it on her head.
Turning, she stared into a mirror
.
Perfect. Just what I always wanted.
The hat made her feel like the coolest person in the whole world.
“
Do you like that?
”
Miranda asked with a big grin on her face
.
“
Yes, I love it,
”
Pickles said.
“
Do you know what I think would look great with that hat?
”
Pickles shook her head.
“
This,
”
Miranda said, pulling a bright red
T
-shirt
with
cowgirl
written on it in sequins
from a nearby shelf.
“
Why don
'
t you try it on?
”
“
Really?
”
Pickles asked, putting her hand on the brim of her hat.
“
Of course,
”
Miranda said.
****
Heavy plastic
bags
rested against
Pickles
'
leg
while she sat in the mall cafeteria. The sound of chatter filled the air along with the smell of fried food from the Chinese, pizza, and hamburger restaurants inside of it. She sank her teeth into the greasy, cheesy pizza and closed her eyes, savoring the tomato
sauce
seeping over her tongue
.
Across from her, Miranda had a salad
topped with
steaming, golden chicken
,
which smelled almost as good as her pizza
. Pickles felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world.
On the way out of the store, Miranda had spotted a pair of bright red cowboy boots and insisted they add them to their purchases.
“
I
'
ve been meaning to ask,
”
Miranda said, drawing Pickles away from her thoughts,
“
do you know why your parents decided to name you Pickles?
”
Pickles frowned.
“
My parents didn
'
t name me.
My parents left me outside of a police station
when I was
about
three years old. A police officer found me and took me inside. At first they thought I had run away from a house or a nearby park, but nobody came for me. The police officer felt bad, so he asked me what was the one
thing I
wanted. I guess I didn
'
t know much at the time, because I just kept saying
â
Pickles.
'
Sometime later a guy came in and asked me my name
.
I said,
â
Pickles.
'
Ever since then, I was just Pickles.
”
The salad fork in Miranda
'
s hand slipped from her fingers
then
fell to the table
with a clatter
.
“
What kind of way is that to name someone?
”
“
Do you want to know the funny thing about the whole situation?
”
Pickles asked,
and
when Miranda remained silent
, she continued,
“
I don
'
t even like pickles. I think they
'
re gross. That
'
s why I think it
'
s funny
I
'
m named after a food I hate, but I
'
ve been Pickles for so long
I couldn
'
t imagine answering to anything else, even if I get made fun of for it.
”
Once again, Miranda was silent.
“
Are youâ¦
okay?
”
Pickles asked.
“
Did I say something wrong?
”
“
No, Pickles, of course not,
”
Miranda said quickly, though her eyes
darted
everywhere.
“
Is that true? Did your parents just leave you somewhere?
”
“
Uh-huh,
”
Pickles said.
“
It
'
s okay, though. It happened when I
was young
. I dream about that day, about feeling lost and confused in a strange place, but besides that, I don
'
t remember anything. I don
'
t even remember my real
parents
'
faces or who they were. I figure I
'
m better off not remembering, though. I mean, they just left me when I was three. Even
my old foster parents, the Johnsons,
had more sense than that, and they didn
'
t have much sense at all.
”
Miranda reached across the table
to grab
Pickles by
her hands. She didn
'
t even flinch
though
they were covered in sauce
.
“
I am so, so sorry that happened to you,
”
Miranda said.
“
It was a long time ago
. I don
'
t even remember it. I just overheard people talking about it when I was in third grade. The sad part is, I don
'
t even know my real birthday or what the names of my real parents were,
”
Pickles said, shrugging.
“
I
'
m here now, so I
'
m just happy about that. A lot of my friends at the home aren
'
t so lucky.
S
ometimes kids live
there until they turn eighteen and never g
e
t a family.
That place gets so cold and lonely sometimes.
”
“
Luckyâ¦
”
Miranda said.
“
Yep, I am.
”
With a grin, Pickles chomped on a bite of pizza
.
Sauce
poured from her mouth and onto her ch
in
. She giggled
,
her
face
heated with embarrassment
.
Miranda smiled
then
wiped the sauce with her napkin. For some reason, Pickles couldn
'
t stop laughing after that. She kept laughing
until she felt her sides would explode. Soon
Miranda laughed right along with her.
Â
Â
Once again, the bed was too soft and Pickles couldn
'
t sleep. She struggled out of
it
with a frown. After glancing at the clock,
she went
down the stairs, but today she didn
'
t
go outside because she
knew
the Harrises
didn
'
t like it. She was shocked, though, when she went
into the living room
and
saw she
was not alone. David
sat
at the table eating some granola
while
reading a
news
paper. He
appeared
tired
,
with
half-moons
bagg
ing
underneath his eyes. Pickles
gazed
at the clock above the stove. It was four-thirty in the morning. Her eyes felt itchy
. She
couldn
'
t imagine having to be up th
is
early every day.
Pickles climbed in the chair next to him, wondering whether she should say something. David didn
'
t appear to notice her.
Instead he kept flipping the pages of his paper until, finally, he raised up his cup a coffee
,
took a sip
,
then
lowered the paper. Their eyes met
,
and he jumped
,
spill
ing
coffee all down his front
.
Then he
said a
word Mrs
. Beazley told her to never say.
“
I am sorry,
”
Pickles said.
“
Are you okay?
”
“
Pickles?
”
he asked.
“
What are you doing up so early? You scared me.
”
“
I can
'
t sleep,
”
Pickles said.
“
The bed is too soft.
”
“
Is it? I suppose we can replace the mattress.
”
David
appeared
thoughtful.
“
It
'
s okay,
”
Pickles said quickly
, not wanting to make trouble
.
“
I don
'
t mind it. I like
being up early because it
'
s quiet
. Last time I was up this early, nobody else was.
”
“
I
'
ve never met a
twelve
-year-old who likes quiet,
”
David said, staring at her, wide-eyed.
“
What do you do when nobody is up?
”
She thought of her notebook upstairs and felt shy. Yet she wanted to include David and Miranda in her life
. She
had written stories about them. Maybe David would understand.
“
Can I show you?
”
she asked.
David nodded, raising an eyebrow
and
dabbing at the
coffee stain
on his shirt.
With a grin, Pickles hopped off the chair and ran up the stairs. She went
straight
to her backpack
to pull
out her notebook.
Clutching it to her chest, she ran down the stairs
and in
to the dining room
. David smiled at her as she placed the notebook on the table and flipped it to the
page
where she
'
d started
the story about her new foster parents
. Pickles pushed the notebook over to him and David picked it up
to begin
to read it.