By Cyndi Sand-Eveland
Mel and her mom, Cecily, comprehend what it’s prefer to stay tough, even if it’s at the streets or within the condo of an abusive man.When Cecily publicizes that they’ve had adequate and they are going to head domestic to her mother’s, Mel goals of defense, a snug mattress, and a grandmother’s love appear to be approximately to come back actual. yet a few error can't be simply forgiven or erased. Her grandmother isn't really what Mel expects, and even though the neighborhood library bargains sanctuary, a true domestic turns out past her take hold of. Mel’s choice to upward thrust above what destiny has dealt is set to alter that.
Cyndi Sand-Eveland’s paintings with homeless early life offers her characters an authenticity no reader will overlook. finally, a narrative of wish and reputation, A Tinfoil Sky is a robust, can’t-putit- down novel.
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Extra info for A Tinfoil Sky
With each crack of lightening, she ran faster, counting the seconds between the rumbling thunder and the light that followed. Her wet jeans tightened and stuck to her legs; the small patches of dry skin behind her knees began to sting. Her feet slipped in her flip-flops, causing her to trip and lose her grip on the large to-go container of soup. It sailed through the air and exploded on the sidewalk in front of her. But for the moment, that didn’t matter; getting back to the Pinto and changing out of her wet clothes was the thing Mel wanted most.
Mel knew Cecily wasn’t referring to the last place they’d lived. She always called that place The Dive. And so Mel repeated the word out loud. ” “I’ve been thinking it just might be the right time to go back home to Gladys’s in Riverview,” Cecily said. Mel sat in a mixture of shock and silence. It was the eleventh time they’d moved in four years. But this time they weren’t being evicted, or finding a new place with cheaper rent, or moving in with a friend of Cecily’s. This time they weren’t just leaving with nowhere to go.
Don’t do that. It was Cecily’s rule about not saying anything to anybody; Mel was to keep quiet and not share any information about herself or Cecily, about where they were living, what she had or didn’t have for breakfast, or why she often arrived at school in clothes that were too small or miles too big. ” That’s what Cecily had said, and Mel knew from experience that sharing too much could cause a lot of trouble. ” “My mom’s at work,” Mel answered, looking down at her feet. She knew Rose wasn’t the kind of woman you could look at and lie to.