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says. I open my eyes. Cherish looks over her shoulder at me in the backseat. She’d called shotgun immediately.
    “Wonderful,” Mom says, probably thinking she had something to do with the teacher’s semiglowing remark. “And your day, Calli?”
    Hmm, let’s see:
    1. This morning Cherish knocked her elbow into my side when she pushed her way to the back of the bus and didn’t apologize.
    2. Delia and I barely spoke.
    3. Someone asked me if I really am a bull dyke.
    4. After school Dub cornered me by my locker to tell me he was sorry and we needed to talk.
    5. I failed the French quiz.
    Mom speeds onto the I-210 ramp. “Earth to Calli.”
    “It was fine. Yours?” The sun makes L’Auberge du Lac Casino glow like bronze. Bet the buffet is better there.
    “My appointment with Dr. Inez went well,” she says. “He wants me to try an antimalarial drug.”
    “You don’t have malaria, do you?” Lupus is bad enough. As we drive over the bridge, I stare at the blue water
surrounding Coon Island. I shiver when I think about a diseased mosquito biting Mom.
    “No,” Mom says. “The medicine should help the rashes and my mouth ulcers heal quicker.”
    “Gross,” Cherish says, kicking her feet up on the dashboard. Mom lets it go. She’s all about making Cherish as comfortable as possible.
    We finally get to Westlake, the casino and refinery area. The web of pipes and smoky towers dizzies my eyes. One pipe shoots fire and looks like it’s pointed at me. I practically cough inside the car thinking about the pollutants being spewed in the air. Some tourist attraction.
    You’d think people would visit Lake Charles because of Cajun Country’s rich culture, as Madame Mahoney always goes on and on about. Or maybe visitors might come to see live gators or ride along the Cajun Riviera. Nope. Busloads and truckloads and carloads of folks come to gamble. They must break the slot machines, because Liz stays busy repairing them.
    Mom met Liz at the casino when she used to gamble from time to time. One special day Mom hit a five hundred dollar jackpot, but the machine malfunctioned when she tried to cash out. Liz came to her rescue, and Mom gave her a big tip. They started dating soon after, and now Mom likes to say that you really can buy love.
    The three of us wait outside Mardi Gras Buffet for Liz. The restaurant sign sparkles green. Gold and purple beads hang from each letter, and there are two party masks on either side of the name, but this place is no party. Outside the restaurant, it smells like liver and onions with a hint of fried fish.

    Cherish walks away from Mom and me and stands close to the casino entrance with her hands on her hips. The guy checking IDs looks her up and down. When I walk near her, ID Guy doesn’t even look in my direction. I certainly don’t have the body Cherish does and I don’t wear skintight tank tops or formfitting jeans.
    Call it pride, but I’m happy my boobs are bigger than hers, even if Cherish says it’s because my body fat percentage is way higher. Delia is right. My foster sister is a piece of work.
    The ocean of lights inside the gambling area is blinding and the machines clank and roar. An old lady is bent over a slot machine, pressing buttons while a cigarette hangs from her lips. The billboards around town make gambling look fun with young people smiling and cheering—what a joke.
    “Hey, ladies,” Liz says, walking up to us in her Lady Luck Casino suit. There’s a green clover embroidered on each side of her collar. On these family nights she dresses up for Mom. Tonight her hair is brushed to the side and she’s wearing eyeliner and lip gloss to accentuate her best features (according to Mom). “You ready for a fun dinner together?”
    Mom nods her head, but Cherish and I sigh. There are some things we can agree about.
    Most of the food on the buffet line could be labeled braces friendly on account of the mush factor. I ignore one of the few crunchy items, the fried