Plastic Angel
by Nerissa Nields
That was then: Angela has been a child model all her life, the baby on the cake mix box, the cutie pie in the toy commercial. She was mom's pride and joy, the celebri-toast of her tiny town. Back then choices, priorities, and rules were made for her. No one thought to ask 'Gellie' what she wanted to do, nor had she asked herself. She was a sweet and obedient cipher, a plastic angel.

Excerpt:
We sing the new song to Mom and the Riddles. Mom sits on the raised brick wall, Dr. Riddle in his lawn chair, Mrs. Riddle standing in the doorway to the house as if she's going to duck inside any minute. Margie is at the picnic table, filling out forms for fall internships, and Barbara is across from her with the cordless telephone in her hand. Only Mom gives us her full attention. Dr. Riddle has his Truman book closed, but I notice his finger keeps edging in between the pages, as if he's somehow reading it in Braille.



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