Melody Dodds - Little Pills

Please visit our website, www.west44books.com. For a free color catalog of all our high-quality books, call toll free 1-800-542-2595 or fax 1-877-542-2596.Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Dodds, Melody. Title: Little pills / Melody Dodds. Description: New York: West 44, 2019. | Series: West 44 YA verse Identifiers: ISBN 9781538382813 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781538382820 (library bound) | ISBN 9781538383414 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Childrens poetry, American. | English poetry. | English poetry.

Classification: LCC PS586.3 L588 2019 | DDC 811.60809282--dc23 First Edition Published in 2019 by Enslow Publishing LLC 101 West 23rd Street, Suite #240 New York, NY 10011 Copyright 2019 Enslow Publishing LLC Editor: Caitie McAneney Designer: Sam DeMartin Photo Credits: Cover BSIP/UIG/Universal Images Group/Getty Images. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer. Printed in the United States of America CPSIA compliance information: Batch #CS18W44: For further information contact Enslow Publishing LLC, New York, New York at 1-800-542-2595. FOR THE TOUGH KIDS, AND THE LONELY KIDS, AND ESPECIALLY FOR THOSE WHO ARE BOTH. Well. Well.

Oxy is an artist who sculpts the monster out of you. ESCAPE The bathroom is the only place in this house where I am *guaranteed* privacy. So I tend to spend a L O N G time in here. Lets be clear: I mean house in the sense of home. House really means apartment. Three bedrooms, one bath.

Five peopleno, wait. Four. Still do the math. Lets be clear: I mean privacy in the sense of walls. Privacy barely means solitude. Someone always needs to use it.

Stay in too long and they lose it. But here I am. No pounding yet from my mother or her husband, Rupert. And no threats from my sister, Isabella, who is younger but whose hunger to hurt me is a thing I cant forget. So I escape. SAFE Looking at the mirror but really through it.

Messing with my hair but thinking of a boy. Glossing my lips (for the same boy) but waiting for changing leaves flannel shirts pumpkins cider fires HALLOWEEN! candy and bam bam bamGET OUTTA THERE! (My sister.) THE COOLEST GIRL SHES EVER SEEN I make myself MEAN. I squint. I scowl. I throw open the bathroom door and growl words I should not say. (But Moms away.) Surprise! Outside the door is not my sister anymore.

Instead some other girl her age. Still, I fill with rage, and stomp away. But as I do I hear this stranger say, Your sisterissoooo*pretty.*Shes, like, thecoolestgirlIveeverseen. ISABELLA DISAGREES Cool?!?!?How about:rudemeanselfishnastycruel. Monster tomboy who:liesstealssneaks arounddoes things shes toldnot to. Shes failing school!Shes horrible.

Shes SCARY!If you lived with her, youd see. You cant thinkmy sisterscooland still be friends with me. MY BROTHERS ROOM My older brother, Leopold. My brother who is gone. Not like my mother, who just works too much. Leos physically moved on.

He doesnt live here anymore. But all his stuff still does. Which makes me sad but sometimes happy. Because: he locked his room before he left but left his window cracked enough that I can sneak in. Like some big, yellow-haired rat. But I dont want anyone else to know.

So I say Im going out then break back in to my own home. Slip through that crack by standing tiptoed on a can filled with trash. Push it wide and step through to a room thats like a tomb. Or I guess like a memorial. Then I do this thing I do sometimes, more often lately. Where I take this pill I took from Gramma and I let it just sedate me.

MY BROTHER My older brother, Leopold my brother who is gone was the fifth of us. I forget sometimes. I mean, I know hes not here. I just forget were down to four. First time, they told him: Dont let there bea next time. Next Time, he went to juvie.

And the next Next Time. And the Time after that. The Next Time After That, they told him: This is your last time in juvie. Youre eighteen now. Last time, they told him: You canjoin the armyoryou cango to jail. He told them where to go.

But he went to Afghanistan. In a camo uniform and brown boots. He sends me pictures where I cant tell which ones him. GRAMMAS PILLS are round and white and very small. You wouldnt think they could do much. But they can.

Oh yes they can. Its like being wrapped in cotton candy. And the sun is warm and golden, all around me. Like Im floating in a pool, but the pool is full of sunlight. A pool of sunlight. Golden. Golden.

And all my worries float away like voices. And instead of echoes, I get comfort. Mom is always working itsalright. Rupert is always sleeping hesokay. My sister is always angry shellget on. There is nothingto worryover. The universehasgot it. The universehasgot it.

And me? I can just be. TEETH Extras, four. Had budded in the very back of my mouth like weeds. Wisdom teeth. Impacted. Remove them.

In August, they cut away my gums and yanked those wise teeth right out by their roots. PAIN Jaw the size of my whole head. Head pounded. Mouth oozed. And bled and b l e d. Sent home with 10 little pills.

Round and white and very small. I didnt think theyd do much and they didnt. I still felt all the pain. I just didnt care. My teeth were gone they were trouble. My jaw ached it would heal.

I was in pain it would pass. And it did. After two days I didnt need those round white pills anymore. Id taken four. ITCHING I can always tell when Im coming d o w n. It always starts with the itching.

Some people get the itching sooner, but for me it happens around the three-hour mark, which means in another hour Ill be sober. Not back at zero I seem to dip a little lower than where I started and I seem to get crabby-cranky, touchy-testy and I grind my teeth. Except the four they took. HOME AGAIN Isabellas friend, the stranger? Her name is Mia. I find this out as shes coming out of my house, which is right when Im going back in. She tells me this name of hers.

Makes a point of it. I expect stink-eye from Mia for things Isabella probably told her. But Mias eyes still shine bright. Warm and inviting like she really wants to know me, like she wants me to like her. I ignore her. THE BASEMENT is where we used to play.

To ride trikes and play dolls and house and trucks and little animals. Three of us, then two, but now just me. Not dolls or house or animals: music. I mix it on my phone. Im good, too. I did the playlist for our sophomore dance last year.

What I really want is to make the music. Theres free software. But Id need a laptop. Cant write music on my phone. Cant put any software free or not on my iPad from school. Those are the only computers I have access to.

For now, I play other peoples music. But someday, Ill play my own. One day, theyll play mine. MY BIG IDEA Mixing music gets me in the zone, helps me forget that Im alone in a house thats overflowing. Im growing up on my own. And then it hits me: To Mia Im a mystery.

Shes 14, looking for a hero. Im a zero with a history, but she doesnt know. Shes Isabellas best friend. If she likes me, my sister can. Maybe we can save each other from one another; make the hate end. And if that doesnt work, she can at least tell me why my sister hates me so darn much.