“I know nothing about the art world,” my dad goes on, turning to Madge. “You’d be the perfect person to take Annie shopping and help her pick out supplies.”
“Oh, I don’t think Annie would be interested in that,” Madge sniffs. “We already discussed this earlier, but apparently she didn’t like the plan I proposed.”
My dad looks back and forth between us, his brow furrowed. “Plan?”
“I told Annie that if she went through the boxes of supplies downstairs and made a list of things we don’t already own, then I’d take her shopping for what she needs.”
I gape at her. “Um . . . no, you did not!”
“Pardon me?” she says. “Did I not tell you specifically to check the supplies downstairs?”
“Yes, but you never said you’d take me shopping. You said I should use whatever leftovers were down there.”
Madge sighs and gives my father a pointed look. “This is exactly what I’ve been talking about, Martin. I’m just trying to put some basic rules in place, but she has no respect for my authority. When she doesn’t like what I have to say, she just runs to you for a different answer.”
Dad rubs his hands over his face. “All right. Annie, I didn’t realize you already had an arrangement with Madeleine.”
“She’s lying! She just doesn’t want to spend the money on my supplies, and it’s totally unfair. How come Sophie gets to spend two hundred dollars on a pair of jeans and I can’t buy new supplies for school?”
“Whoa!” Sophie says. “Don’t drag me into this mess. Besides, I have an interview at the mall next week anyway. I can pay my own way, thank you very much.”
“But Sophie, your schoolwork!” Madge cries.
“Relax, Mother, it’s a part-time job, not a career choice.”
“I’ll get a job too, then,” I say, turning to face my dad. “I’ll pay you back every penny, but I really want new supplies. This is important to me.” I widen my eyes at him, willing him to understand. Art is sacred to me. It’s what ties me to my mom. I don’t want to use Madge’s cast-off leftovers for this project. I don’t want Madge involved at all.
“Enough with the job talk,” Madge snaps, slapping her hand down on the table. “This isn’t about jobs or money. It’s about entitlement, Annie. We all know you’ve had to make adjustments, but just because your life is hard, that doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want and get whatever you ask for.”
I grip the edge of my chair to prevent myself from launching across the table and slapping the smug expression off her face. I can’t believe she’s calling me entitled.
“Dad,” I say, ignoring her, “you know I never ask for anything. I’m not being unreasonable here. I’m asking for stuff for school.”
“You girls are killing me,” my dad groans. “You know that, don’t you?”
Madge and I both sit on the edge of our seats, waiting to see whose side he’ll take.
“Of course you can have the supplies you need, Annie. We are not in such dire financial straits that we can’t afford materials for school.”
I beam at him.
“However,” he says ominously, “Madeleine does bring up an important point. You can’t just ignore everything she asks you to do. We’re a family now, and you need to show Madeleine the appropriate respect. It’s not fair to her that you don’t follow the rules she sets out.”
I can feel Madge’s gloating eyes on me, and I refuse to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
“The plan she’s proposing seems perfectly reasonable to me,” he goes on. “No one is forcing you to use old materials that don’t meet your needs, but it’s only logical that you should at least look through what we have to see if there’s anything worth saving . . .”
“Fine,” I say, knowing I won’t find anything useful.
“And I want to see you put a genuine effort into reusing anything that might work,” Madge lectures, unable to hold back. “In fact, I plan to compare your shopping list to what’s down there to make sure you’re keeping up your end of the bargain.”
I glare at her before turning to my dad. “Are we done here? I’d like to be excused.”
Dad looks to Madge for approval, making my blood boil.
“She hasn’t finished her dinner,” Madge says disapprovingly, “but I suppose if she clears her space and agrees to make more of an effort . . .”
I stand up before she can finish her sentence and gather my dishes with a clatter. Make more of an effort. What a bitch. Madge hardly even talks to me, except to order me around and remind me that she’s in charge. She slobbers all over Sophie, giving her every little thing she asks for, and then ignores me ninety percent of the time.
Back in my room, I flop onto my bed and fumble with my headphones, pushing them into my ears and cranking up the volume on my iPod until the music is punishingly loud. Three Days Grace’s “I Hate Everything About You” slams into my brain, obliterating the image of my dad letting Madge crap all over everything important to me.
I burrow under my covers and let the music wash over me until there’s no more Madge or Dad or Sophie or me. Until my heart stops pounding and my brain stops screaming. Goddamn that art class, making me feel all inspired. I know better than to get my hopes up like that. Stupid stupid stupid.
A Nine Inch Nails song is pulsing to an end when I finally crawl out from under the covers. I turn the music down to a less earsplitting level and switch from my angry playlist (“Madge Sucks”) to my relaxing playlist (“A World Without Madge”). Paramore’s “The Only Exception” washes over me as I reach for my secret sketchbook and flip through the series I’ve been working on, detailing the many and varied ways Madge might meet an untimely end. Right after #41, Abducted by sadistic aliens
