Rich Girl Poor Girl

Chapter 8

That night, Sparrow thrashed and kicked against her covers, unable to find a moment of stillness or peace.  She’d snuck away from the party early after her embarrassing conversation with Thomas, leaving him and the others around the beach fire.  Unlike the day before, he’d been animated and comfortable.  Clearly, she wasn’t needed.

Around 4am, about the same time the birds began to stir, she gave up.  Pulling her patchwork quilt around her shoulders, Sparrow padded downstairs to the front room.  In her tank and boy-legs, she stepped into her meditation corner, the nook by the window that caught the first rays of light.  It was the one spot she asked to remain undisturbed in the house; she’d been known to give up her bedroom to visitors before, but the circle of crystals was Sparrow’s sacred place.

Sitting cross-legged on the quilt, she slowed her breath and closed her eyes.  In the years following her lowest fall, she’d discovered meditation as a cure for many of her ills; anxiety, aggression, blame, depression.  She’d been one of those people who studious avoided too much time alone inside their own heads, unconsciously because she was afraid of what she’d find there.  Now, Sparrow knew that her mind could keep her safe and sane, even when the outside world brought her to breaking point.

The sound of her breath was soothing, rasping in and out of the back of her throat, and the fluttering inside her skull started to calm.  There, Sparrow thought smugly, I’m fine.  Thomas isn’t affecting me at all, I’m not even thinking about what his lips would taste like or how his hands would feel on my… dammit!

She struggled for hours, trying to bring her monkey brain under control unsuccessfully.  By the time the sun was high in the sky and Meg stomped into the lounge, Sparrow was already on edge.

“Sparrow,” Meg said, flopping onto the old futon couch, trying to catch her attention, “we need to talk.”

Sparrow ignored her.  Meg knew the meditation corner was a bubble – if Sparrow was in there, she couldn’t see or hear anyone outside.  Everyone in the house was used to seeing her sitting in the circle for hours, not acknowledging anything, usually just wearing whatever she’d slept in, which was often just underwear and a tee.

Today, Meg was apparently intent on bursting the bubble.  “Sparrow, the real estate lady is coming at the end of this week, and since no one else is making an effort, I’m taking matters into my own hands.”

With her lids closed, Sparrow rolled my eyes.

“I’m going to make up a job schedule for stuff that needs to be done.  There’s the kitchen, we need to paint the entrance hall, get the carpets cleaned, kick the cats out of the downstairs bathroom, scrub the walls.”

We have no money for cleaning stuff, Sparrow thought absently.

“And, of course, we have, like zero bucks for anything.”

Ha.

“So, I asked Thomas last night for money.”

“What?”  Sparrow spun around to face Meg, her face instantly horrified. 

“Oh, so you can hear me,” Meg said superciliously.  “Look, the dude is rich, we’re not.  We were talking about Haven, and how we might lose it if we get kicked out, and he wanted to know what he could do to help, so I told him.  We need money.”

“Meg!  What is wrong with you?”  For the first time in years, Sparrow could feel true rage building inside her, hot and fierce.  “What you’ve done goes against everything Haven stands for!  The whole point of this place is about not allowing money to control us.  By asking Thomas for cash, you’re violating our entire lifestyle!  We’ll either lose this place or we won’t – begging for cash won’t change that.”