I had barely passed a math test and squeaked through one in biology. But I was doing the work and keeping my head down. At home, Mackenzie and I were eating whatever we could find in the freezer, and I was running low on dog food. The phone rang quite a few times, and I knew it was Mom because Nick’s number came up. Maybe my dad phoned too, but I wasn’t answering. Mac took Ozzie for walks while I was at school, and she started cooking dinner and making sandwiches for my lunch. Yeah, I know. We were like this little family. I learned not to ask her too much about her past, but a few things slipped out. Her mom had been hooked on crack, and she hated her father. Hated him and refused to talk about him. She’d been on her own for over a year. Social services hadn’t been much help. Group homes were definitely not for her. But we were okay. I was playing by her rules, and I was close to sticking to my own. On the weekend, we were sitting in the kitchen, talking, when my mom walked in without knocking.
