Excerpt from The Roaring Days of Zora Lily by Noelle Salazar, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Oh, Mama," I said. "You know Rose. She's the same as she's always been. Silly and boy crazy."

"And loud," she said. "With too much stuff on her face."

"Well, there will be none of that tonight," I said. "Just snacks and games I imagine."

I stood and moved to Mrs. Johnson's dress, avoiding my mother's gaze. Truth was, Rose was right. I was an adult and could legally do as I pleased. But I knew Mama had a lot to worry about these days and I was happy to not add to the list.

"You'll be home in the morning?" she asked.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Of course. But not too early," I said with a laugh. "I might have to take advantage of a night without Sarah kicking me."

Her face relaxed into a soft smile then.

"That girl. She's been a kicker since day one." She patted her belly fondly. "Some days I swore she was going to kick her way out of me." She glanced at the dress I was standing before. "Why don't you leave it for tomorrow."

"I can start on the waist. I have time."

"I know what you're missing out on, girl," she said. "And I appreciate your dedication to this family."

My eyes filled as I smiled. She didn't often thank me. And she definitely didn't show much affection these days.

"Thanks, Mama. I love this family," I said.

"I know you do, Zora Lil. And we love you."

We jumped then as a thud shook the house, followed by a scrape, a grumble, and the slamming open of my parents' bedroom door.

Mother's hand shot out and she steadied her water glass.

"Damn that man," she said under her breath.

The wilted form of my father emerged, his clothes from the day before rumpled as though he had spent a night getting trampled by car wheels. His face was bloated, as was his stomach, but the rest of him had wasted away.

"Good afternoon, Papa," I said, keeping my voice low so as not to assault his delicate state.

"Afternoon, girl," he rasped, running a knob-knuckled hand over my hair. "That heart for Eva?" He pointed to the pink heart on the trousers I'd left hanging over the back of my chair.

"Yessir."

"Yer a good sister."

"I try to be, Papa."

"The rest of 'em could learn a thing or two from ya," he said.

I nodded, trying not to choke on the alcohol wafting from his pores. My eyes watered and Mama shooed him away.

"There's soup on the stovetop," she said. "Get yourself a bowl. Maybe two."

"Gotta go out," he said, shrugging into his jacket.

Mama's fingers stopped moving and I held my breath. Harrison, still lying on the floor beside me, seemed to shrink in size.

"Where you off to?" Mama asked.

But my father didn't answer. He just swung open the front door, stepped outside, and closed the door behind him.

"Damn fool wasn't even wearing shoes," Mama said. She shook her head and gave a little chuckle. But I didn't miss the tear she wiped away.

3

Dinner was always a raucous affair when Tommy was home. He tried hard to make the absence of father unnoticeable, teasing the three middle kids, Sarah, Lawrence, and Hannah, and asking the smaller two, Harrison and Eva, what he called "Big Life" questions. At six and five, their answers were always good for a laugh.

"What will you be when you grow up?" he asked Harrison, who was making the most of the few boiled potatoes on his plate from the withering supply of spuds kept on the back porch.

"A lawyer!" Harrison said, to which we all widened our eyes.

"How do you know that word?" Sarah asked, tucking a wisp of chin-length hair behind her ear. I'd cut it for her the week prior when she'd come home from school in tears. "I just want to fit in!" she'd wailed, tugging on the braid she wore nearly every day. "All the other girls are cutting off their hair. Why can't I?"

I'd looked at her, heartbroken, knowing what it felt like to be a Hough. To go to school in unfashionable hand-me-downs. To eat meager lunches of sandwiches with no fillings, fruit too soft from age, and water from a well that had a brown tinge to it. And so I'd waved for her to follow me out to the back porch where I set out a chair and held up my fabric scissors.

Excerpted from The Roaring Days of Zora Lily by Noelle Salazar. Copyright © 2023 by Noelle Salazar. Excerpted by permission of Mira Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.