Close to the Bone

Part 1: Eleven

Veronica didn't know at first that she was poor. She learned this at age eleven, standing by the candy counter in her little town's drugstore, breathing in the smell of waxy, cheap chocolate. Learned it from a comic book, from a character with the same name, same hair color, but not the same lifestyle.This Other Veronica had a rich daddy, all the pretty clothes, a car, a mansion, and a cute blond best friend that she treated like shit. Real Veronica had a daddy (somewhere, sometimes), clothes from the consignment shop, a ring from the gum ball machine, a student bus pass, revolving-door rental homes, and no best friend, blond or otherwise. She knew the kids at school, and they were OK, but no one she could call "best."

"I wouldn't treat you that way," she mumbled as she ran her finger over the CMYK of the characters' faces. "I'd be nice, and I'd share my stuff." If she had any stuff.

After the comic book incident, Veronica started paying more attention to the people around her. Until then, she'd spent her days exploring the town's wooded lots, hitching rides on other kids' bicycles, and ignoring adults in general. Some of them had creeped her out in the past, so she made a point of pretending most of them didn't exist. Now, though, she saw them everywhere, what they were wearing, driving, and, when she could, what they talked about.

"...dealership wants twelve hundred dollars to fix the..."

"...I don't know where she got the idea about going to that college, but..."

"...was talking about vacation in Mexico, so they must be doing well..."

She'd never heard her momma talk about things like that. When Veronica saw her momma at home in between her two jobs, all momma talked about was doing dishes and other chores, rent's going up, cell minutes are down, how was school, heard from your father? All Veronica could do was hug her, 'cause it wouldn't do any good to be mad, or to talk about Mexico.

Instead, she started to plan.