A Better Home By Kate Valentine

Cordelia, stop hitting the TV. I implore. Instead of stopping, she just hits it
harder, ignoring me completely. Im seriously worried shes going to break our Samsung.
I grab her arms, a move my mom has warned me against- and for a good reason.
Cordelia, stop it! Immediately, she starts wailing. My mom rushes in. Milo! Please,
dont do that. Ive told you there are better ways to stop her. What was going on?
She was after the TV again. I did use the others ways; they just didnt work.
Thats not entirely true. I only tried one other way: talking to her. But my mom doesnt
need to know that little factoid. The only other way to stop her was to gently pull her
away, which I did.
Gently?
Kinda.
She sighs. Milo, Cordelia doesnt-
Understand what not to do, I know. but sometimes it gets annoying to have to
teach her over and over again! I know Im being unreasonable, but I cant help it. Im
pretty annoyed. No, scratch that. Im angry. Why cant you take care of her?! Why do I
have to be watching her every other second?! I have a life too, you know, and I want to
live it!! I shout. Cordelias crying now, but for once I dont care.
Milo Isaac Morrison, go to your room this instant and dont come down until
youre willing to be quiet! My mom orders angrily.
I go to my room. Draw some comics. About 10 minutes later I feel calmer. I tiptoe
downstairs. My mom is helping Cordelia eat some rice, her favorite food. Shes playing
with Yo-Yo, her stuffed zebra. His name is Yo-Yo because when we were at a toy store

looking for a birthday present for one of my friends, I had wanted a yoyo at the time and
she wanted one too, but she was too small so we got a zebra and named him Yo-Yo. that
suited her just fine. I never got a yoyo.
I go into the kitchen and get a cookie. My mom hears me creeping around and
calls, is that you, Milo?
Mmffrsh. My mouth is still full of cookie.
Could you come out here for a moment? Her voice sounds a little strange. Like
when my teacher tries to comment on my comics that may be ahead of their time. Now
Im nervous. I go out to her and Cordelia anyway.
So I was thinking you know how you really like comics? I nod. Way to point
out the obvious, Mom. Well, theres this camp-
Mom, you know how I feel about summer camps. I snap. Lets just say Ive had
a few bad experiences and leave it at that. Its usually this time of year, early june, that
she starts talking to me about summer camp. Usually im able to get out of it.
Yes, but this ones different. Its for kids who really like comics, like you. She
looks nervous but determined.
Im still doubtful of this whole idea. It seems like a plan to get me out of the way,
though I know she wouldnt do that. My mom sees the doubt in my eyes and holds up her
hand. Just hear me out. Youll have fun. Its an overnight camp, and its for cartoonists
like you. You might like it. I heard Leons going, too. Leons my best friend and fellow
cartoonist. If hes going, it might not be that bad Possibly. She hands me a pamphlet
and I flip through it. Looks okay. Theres a camp store, and a lake and cabins with bunk
beds. Apparently, its not just for comic-y people, as my mom had made it out to be: it

was for all creative people. including but not limited to: moviemakers, artists, writers,
journalists, and many more. Like cartoonists. Like me. Im still nervous, but I might give
it a try.
At 7:00 sharp, my dad gets home. I dread this time every day. Heres why...
7:00- My dad marches through the door, drops his bag onto the floor, and orders me to
put it away.
7:02- He yells at my mom Wheres my dinner!? Im not paying you for nothing, you
know! He uses a bit more language than that which Id rather not talk about.
7:05- Ignores Cordelia until she yells, Daddeeeeee!!! then he shouts at her for yelling at
him when he has a headache. She always does it again the next night. I guess old habits
die hard.
7:10- Sits down for supper. The conversation is always about his job and my moms lack
of one. Hes a CEO for some office supplies company. Its not very interesting, but if I
said so, Id get grounded. I know that from experience.
After supper, my dad watches sports on the (thankfully unbroken) TV. We go upstairs for
bed and a few hours later he comes up too. Then, at 7:30 in the morning, he leaves for
work. I get up at 7:35. You can guess why.
Before I go to sleep, I sit at my desk drawing cartoons. My latest character is OneEyed Frank. Hes a villain who is always foiled by a little kid named Tony who happens
to be his nephew. Tony is 13 years old and a boy genius. I kind of modeled him after me.
He has dirty blond hair and green eyes, like me (and Cordelia). Drawing comics helps me
calm down after a tough day, which Ive just had. My dad had a bad day at work and he
took it out on us. But I dont want to think about that. What I want to think about is comic

camp, as my mom calls it. Maybe Ill meet kids who also like drawing and cartooning.
Im still not sure Im going, but my mom says I definitely am. Then I think of something.
If I go, I wont have to watch Cordelia for two weeks! But my mom will be on her own,
watching her 24/7. I sigh. Why do I have to make such hard decisions? Maybe I should
go to bed. Ill sleep on it. I pull up my covers and close my eyes, and soon Im in
dreamland.
The next day at lunchtime, Im eating a ham sandwich at our table while working on
the latest One-Eyed Frank comic. my mom is watching me and eventually I look up. she
looks away.
I know you were looking at me, Mom. I say. What is it?
I was just wondering have you made your mind up about camp yet? she
inquires. Your father would really like it if-
Wait. Was this Dads idea?
Erm. Maybe?
Mom! If it was his idea, then Im definitely not going! I will not agree to
anything my dad says. Not even an admittedly fun summer camp. End of story.
Milo, it might be fun. Just because your father suggested it doesnt mean its a
bad idea. You really should go. Youll enjoy it. I promise.
I feel uncomfortable. My mom wants me to go, and apparently my dad does too,
but...my dad is probably scheming something behind our backs; like he wants to get me
out of the way so he can have my room for his office again, or he wants me gone so
theres more room for him. or, even worse, he wants to stay at some bar all night long.
Im the only one who makes him come home at night, because I could tell somebody how

he hits me and he could get arrested. Maybe im blackmailing him, but honestly, I dont
want my dad to go to jail. I cant tell my mom any of this, which is a problem. So I just
tell her, I think I should stay here and keep an eye on the place.
She looks frustrated. Milo, I really think-
Mom, just give me time to think about it. and I left the dining room and went
upstairs.
The next morning is a Saturday. Which means my dad gets home at six. Which
also means I have 4 days to decide about camp. My mom thinks theres a decision to
make, but I know Im not going. She doesnt understand.
I get out of bed and put on my robe. I go downstairs and make myself a bagel.
Sitting down at the table, I realize what time it is. 6:45. Oh no.
As if on cue, my dad marches down the stairs and turns on the coffee pot. I hear
him humming to himself. I wonder if it would be possible to sneak back upstairs before
he sees me. But I cant do that; I have a plate and a half finished bagel on the table which
hell definitely notice. What could I do? Before I had a chance to decide, he stomped into
the room and stared at me, looking shocked. Not every kid gets the pleasure of seeing
revulsion on their parents faces every time theyre spotted. Lucky me.
Well, he says at last, You sure got up early, eh? was it to see me? he guffaws.
No, I snap. It definitely was not. Im bad with insults. Really bad.
He smirks. So, you goin to that camp I suggested? I hear they got all sorts of
crazy creative types. He snorts. My dad doesnt believe in creativity. He believes in
business.
No. Actually, im not.

He looks shocked. Why not? I thought you loved stuff like that.
Then, obviously, you dont know me very well. Because if you did, youd know
that I hate summer camps.
But-
You didnt let me finish. I hate summer camps. and I hate you. I feel a strange
mix of feelings at saying that- horror, guiltiness, but also floaty like Id just had a weight
lifted from my shoulders.
Why? He asks, almost curiously.
I explode at that. because every day you come home from work and youre all, do this!
do that! Wheres my supper? Youre even mean to Cordelia, who you know cant handle
that. then, all you talk about is work, work, work! Then, you dont even help my mom
with bedtime, or the dishes, or laundry, or dinner! You think that just because you bring
us a little money every
payday you can live like a king! and thats not fair!
Well, its not fair that I got such an annoying child! His face is red. I work
away my life for you, and do I get a thank you? Do I get a card of appreciation? No! I get
nothing! At all! Hes screaming now. Im a little scared.
Whoa, dad. Calm down. I say nervously.
Just then, I hear footsteps. My mom is coming down the stairs. when she sees me
and my dad, her face goes white.
Robert. Calm down. Or I swear I will call the police. Maybe child abuse. My
mom says firmly, in a voice ive never heard before.

Go away. This doesnt concern you! He starts toward her. My dad looks so
angry. Theres a look in his eyes of craze, of insanity. Ive never seen him like this.
Robert, if you touch me, I am calling the police.
What do I care?! Because of you, I have nothing to live for. Go ahead, call. I
dont care. He keeps going towards her, and my mom is backing away slowly. He raises
his hand. My mom motions for me to take her phone. I pick it up and dial the police with
a trembling hand.
An hour later, I am sitting in a policemans office with my mom and Cordelia.
Cordelia is playing with Yo-Yo. I am fiddling with the zipper on my hoodie. My mom is
looking tired and worried while she fills out some forms. I still have no idea whats going
on. After the police came, my mom and Cordelia and I got in a friendly policemans car
and went to the police station. My dad rode in a different car with three other policemen.
He was still babbling about my mom causing all of his problems. He never stopped,
according to one policeman who was with him.
Now my dad is in a room with two policemen and backup outside. Hes
answering questions. My mom finishes her forms and turns to me. Ill tell you what this
is all about when we get home. She tells me. Im just waiting for my forms and
signature to be proofed, and then we can go. Theyre going to keep your father here
today.
By now its 8:30 and Im past ready to go home. So, as you can imagine, Im
happy to hear this. Also, I obviously want to know what just happened with my dad and
the police and all that. But I guess Ill have to wait a little.
When we get home, my mom sits Cordelia and I down at the table.

Its time, She says, To tell you the truth.

Go ahead. I would love to know whats been going on these past few hours. I
assure.
Well, its a complicated story. She paused. Okay... so the day I met your dad, I
was working as a waitress at a fancy restaurant. It was my first job, and I was doing it to
earn a little money before I became a teacher, which was what I wanted to do. Your dad
wanted a big plate of spaghetti and when I was bringing it to him I tripped and spilled it
all over him! He was annoyed but he liked me so we eventually got married. After that,
he started working late and barely got home before 11:00. He was always angry at me.
Then we had you, Milo. He liked the idea of a son. But a few years later, when we had
Cordelia and he saw that she was different, he got very mad at me and you two. He didnt
help me at all around the house. I was left to take care of you two all the time. It was
hard, Ill admit. Then he got even stranger. He started telling me that everything bad
that happened was my fault, and why couldnt I do better? My mom looked really sad.
Her eyes were watery. Finally, I told him how I felt. I regret it so much. Because until
then, it had seemed as though he still mightve loved me. But when I did that, he told me
he thought I hated him and that he hated me back. Then he hit me on my cheek. I had a
red mark for a week. That was two years ago. I havent done anything because because
Im afraid. No, thats wrong. I was afraid. Im not anymore. We did the right thing. Dont
regret it.
After a minute, I said, Wow, mom.
She smiles for the first time today. Yes. Wow is right.
So what next? Will dad go to jail? Whatll we do? You dont have a job.

I dont think hell go to jail. He may have to give us some money. I dont know;
we will just have to wait and see what the judge says. Your dad and I are getting
divorced, definitely. I need to get a job, Though I dont know what Ill do.
You could be a teacher! Thats what you always wanted, isnt it? I suggest.
Thats a low-paying job. I dont know if it would get us enough money. but
actually I already have the college degree. Why not? She muses.
See? And Cordelias almost ready for kindergarten, so you wont have to worry
about her during the day. Well be fine.
Well be fine... She repeats. Maybe youre right. Oh, and before I forget: are
you going to camp? You know I still think you should. It was your dads idea, but that
doesnt make it a bad one.
I laugh. After all thats happened, it seems like a small matter. But shes right.
maybe I should go. All right. I will.
My mom and I start laughing. Apparently she was thinking about the same thing.
But then I realize that were not just laughing about that; were laughing because finally
we can let go. I didnt realize how stressed Id been. Then I hear a high tinkling noise.
Thats when I notice that Cordelia is laughing too.