Forlot: My Little Worry Worm - Book Eighty-Six

Chapter Three

When our house came into view, my parents and I saw a woman walking up the sidewalk to us. Aside from us, she was the only one out and about. She was carrying a big, dark brown purse by its straps. Her other arm was swaying back and forth. She wore a black, long-sleeved dress stretching to her knees. I heard the loud clicks of her low heels smacking the pavement. I stated to Mom and Dad to move to the side so the lady could get past.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Dad replied. "You are so considerate and intelligent." He pulled me to the green grass and did not let go of my hand.

I was behind him. "I have common sense, Dad. I would understand boring real world stuff if I were intelligent. I am far from it - and happy about that. I am glad to be dumb."

"You are not dumb, hon. Your beautiful brain operates differently. Everyone's brain does. It is fine being a tad different as long as it does not involve sin."

"Like believing that you should rule the planet because you are a powerful Russian - who drank too much fruit punch. That is a sin."

The worst time that I was ill was when I chugged down too much fruit punch. I do not recall how many empty, small bottles. It is the stupidest thing that I have done. I used to looooove fruit punch. It was my favorite juice. My favorite drink. After the incident...I drink it at least once a week. I still like it, but I do not gulp down many bottles in one sitting.

My parents do not have any clue why I was sick. I have not confessed to them because it is embarrassing. Also, I am worried that they will bar me from drinking more fruit punch. No more fruit punch in this house! Do not tell them, readers. Please. This is between us.

Here I go again. Worrying. Why have the scientists not come up with a medication curing worries? It dissolves all your worries and makes you think only joyous stuff. Maybe I should create it. But I do not have a big brain. Where do I begin? I should send my request to the real scientists. The Forlot scientists, not the real world ones because most are far from scientists.

Maybe most of my worries will dissipate if I speak with somebody my age. Sadly, not one student would like to be my friend. My first friend. 'Cause they are out to get me. They believe that because my family is Russian, we are spawns of demons. We cheer to Russia to take over Ukraine and murder all the Ukrainians. My family and I are disgusted by what Russia is doing to Ukraine. We do not feel bad for either government. Admit it. All the governments do not care about their people. It is about wealth and power. They are beyond selfish. Sickening.

The Russians and Ukrainians are suffering over an evil decision that they were not wishing for. Innocent lives. Millions of innocent lives stolen whether they are dead or sent to prison. I wish that I could help the citizens. I am not in the correct state of mind, though. If I cannot help myself, how can I help others? I should get all my worrying under control. How?

Dad and I stopped when we went past Mom. Mom was walking slowly. I noticed a hint of fear in her wide eyes and that her face was pretty pale.

I let Dad's hand go. "Mom?"

She did not acknowledge me. She just stopped a couple inches from us and continued staring straight ahead.

I glanced at the woman in the black dress. I gazed back up at Mom and slid my hand into hers. "Mom, why are you scared? What is wrong?"

Her expression changed from fear to fury. She growled and jerked away her hand. She then sprinted fast like a roadrunner down said sidewalk. Her arms swung back and forth. Her fists were clenched. Was she running to our home - or to the lady? Why was she even running? Why was she angry? I hoped that she would not collide with that woman - or hurt her.

Dad and I exchanged glances. We ran after her.

"Honey!"

"Mom!"

She skidded to a stop - and smacked the woman's face. The woman turned her head to the side and buried her face in her palms.

Mom screamed, "I waited a long time to do that!"

Dad got between them and gripped her hands. "Honey. What are you doing? Why did you slap her?"

She leaned to the side to look at the mysterious lady. "I am giving her what she deserves. After what that witch did to me - to our family - she had it coming! More are coming your way, bi—"

"Okay, okay. That is enough, hon. Go home with Daria. Get something in your stomach. Daria, take your mom. I will deal with the woman."

The lady raised her head and squinted at Mom. "You."

Mom freed her hands. "Mrs. Tumbler."

Mrs. Tumbler unzipped her purse and pulled out a red, round item. A compact mirror. Then she opened it and examined her reflection. She seemed smug. You know. Thinking that she is the greatest person. I would loathe her.

"You are lucky that you did not leave marks on my face or mess up my makeup. I would have charged you with assault." She looked at Mom and shut her mirror. "You know, sending you to jail would be great for you."

Mom gently pushed Dad away. "Funny. I said the same words to you when I discovered that you were handing Ukraine documents to the Russian government so they could control Ukraine, as well as the rest of the world."

My mouth fell open. So did Dad's. He asked, "How...do you know that?"