by Audrey Couloumbis Published 2002

Wednesday morning is like any other but different.

I eat cereal from a box, brush my teeth and get dressed. That's the part that's like any other morning.

My stepmother, Sylvia, gets up. Before eight. To see me off to school, she says. That's the different part.

She comes into the kitchen just as I finish eating. Her mascara's rubbed off, leaving dark rings under her eyes. She picks up my lunch bag and asks, "You made peanut butter and jelly?"

"I can always trade it," I say, rinsing out the cereal bowl.

"My mistake," she says, rolling her eyes. "I thought the idea was to take what you want in the first place." She looks into the fridge as if she expects to find another lunch waiting.

I pull on my jacket. "I don't have time to mess around."

She makes a faint annoyed sound with her tongue. Shuts the fridge door, sets the bag down on the counter like it's a problem she's about to solve. Opens the bread box. "Did we have any of those chocolate things you like so much?"

"Nope."

"I'll try to pick some up today, okay?" she asks. The phone rings.

I'm closest, I pick up. It's him. The boyfriend. He clears his throat before he asks, "Is this Cassandra?" and I say, "No," because that isn't my name. Then I let the receiver clatter on the counter.

Sylvia reaches for it, not even giving me the you-could-be-nice look. The guy she's dating wears too much cologne, the kind that smells like roach poison.

She tells him, "Just give me ten minutes, I'll call you back."

She tries to brush wisps of hair back from my forehead as she hangs up. She's always playing with my hair, clutching at me, something. I grab my lunch and pull away to get my books. Sylvia follows me to the door, sort of clinging to me with invisible strings.

"You're a good girl, do you know that, Casey?"

"Good enough."