That is how I ended up here today. The two of us have been from foster home to foster home after that, and it is always my fault that we get kicked out. The first one lasted the shortest amount of time. Probably only about three weeks before they decided they could never control me. I was a little girl, broken and angry and scared. I woke up screaming, something I am still prone to do today. The longest we have managed to stay in one place was four months. That was the last home we had been at. It was tolerable I suppose; they really did want to keep us. I will never understand why, but they tried exceptionally hard to make it work. They mustn’t have tried hard enough though, because here we are again.
For the first time since this meeting began I allowed my eyes to look away. As they did they passed over the gold plaque that read ‘Mrs. M. Toyle, Clinical Psychologist.’ The irony in this situation almost had me laughing. How could this lady possibly be a qualified psychologist when all she made me want to do was go jump off a cliff, if only to escape those disgustingly fake-happy eyes of hers that just wouldn’t stop staring. When Mrs. Toyle finally realized that I wasn’t about to answer her she cleared her throat uncomfortably and in return I snapped my gum as loudly as I could. She made a small note on her computer, perhaps that I was indeed insane, before she spoke again.
“Alright then Samantha, that will be all. Your brother should be about done as well and then we’ll have Mary show you to your rooms. We’ll let you know straight away if anybody takes an interest. Oh, and if you have any questions you know where to find me. Welcome to Henridge, Samantha,” Bird Lady said to me with a polite smile, although I was sure she’d rather be thrown into the pits of hell than have me ask her a question.
As always, the waiting room was empty and I ended up having to sit alone for at least twenty minutes, waiting for my brother to come out. I wasn’t angry, not even irritated as I might have been once; I knew he would be longer just like he was every other time. He actually talked, answered questions, and explained every detail of our lives to these people. He had always been much better help to them than I ever was. Before I even entered the building this morning I had already known that I wasn’t going to like whoever it was that I would be talking to. But now I had a definite disliking for Mrs. Toyle. The way she had said, ‘if anyone takes an interest’ made me sound like a piece of jewellery. And that was one thing I definitely was not.
It was then that I heard the sound of a door being shut. Finally, Evan was done. We were quickly greeted by Mary, a kind girl who turned out to be the housekeeper. She was young with blonde hair pulled into a slightly messy bun and cheerful blue eyes. For the first time today I saw eyes that meant what they expressed. Mary’s eyes and her happy glow seemed real to me, and for that I liked her already. Together, Evan and I followed her down the hall and up a small set of stairs. I had been in plenty of care centres before. Some had no rooms, just one big hall filled with beds and dressing tables, enough to fit thirty kids. Those were generally just the ones with no funding, but big hearts. Others were very nice, with one room for each kid, or every two. This place wasn’t the best I’d seen, but it definitely wasn’t the worst. Each room held four kids and they tried to stick kids of the same age into each. As I later found out there were only seventeen individuals living there.
Unlike the other rooms, we had been placed in a room all of our own. It was only because we were siblings that we were allowed to stay together, but since they usually didn’t allow boys and girls in such private bedrooms, we couldn’t have anyone else bunking with us. I must say that was certainly fine by me.
“Why are we still doing this?”
As soon as the door was shut and Mary was out of sight my lips started moving and the usual tone of sarcasm and annoyance came from my mouth as I began complaining.
“I mean, come on Evan. You’re seventeen! You’re old enough to buy a place and live on your own, aren’t you?”
This was one of my usual ideas, to move out on our own. In the past it was a pretty empty thought but now… now we were getting older and I could see the possibilities of our future jumping out all over the place.
“And I won’t get in your way. I’ll… I’ll work; help with the bills, clean the house. We could do it, we really could!” The longer I talked the more pathetic I was starting to sound. I was acting like a hopeful, clueless little child.
“It’s not you that I’m worried about. I’ve told you before, I don’t have the money,” came his usual answer, with that awful sad smile on his face as he looked down at me. I hated that smile, it made me feel like I was five years old instead of the teenager that I was. He was only two years older then me, and not even for another four months, yet he somehow had the attitude of someone in his thirties. I was getting my hopes up, and for what? Only to be passed between houses like a game of hot potato? I was acting foolish, and I knew far better than that.
The tension in our room that night could have been felt from outside the door. Hardly a word was spoken as I pushed my headphones into my ears and dove into the current sketches I was working on. We both knew that I wasn’t really drawing anything. Oh sure, I was attempting it, but it was no use when I had so much on my mind. It was my fault that we still had nowhere to call home, just as it always was. Evan had never said it to me directly, but it was clear when I watched his expressions. The way he would look at me for a moment before looking away and shaking his head.
I am what an older person would call the bad apple of the bunch. The type of girl that parents would tell their daughters not to get close to because I was “trouble”. Most people don’t know my story. They don’t realize that I have had to deal with things that they will never have to endure. To them I’m just the girl that has no friends because she never opens herself up, and they simply don’t care enough to find out the truth.
***
It was only eight o’clock when I hid under the blankets for the night. I wasn’t close to being tired, but I wanted this day to end. Half an hour passed by, the usual feeling of guilt burning through my skin and keeping me awake when, without a word, Evan left the room. I wanted to ask him where he was going or how long he’d be, but I kept my questions to myself. By the time I fell asleep he was still gone and when I woke up the next morning he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. When he came into the room I noticed the dark circles under his eyes and I wondered if he’d gotten any sleep last night at all.
“Breakfast’s in half an hour,” he said with a small motion toward the clock. Of course it was. Seven thirty, breakfast. It would be the same every day and if you missed it? Well, you would starve until lunch at twelve thirty. So maybe that wasn‘t the complete truth, but you get the idea. They were the same general rules that all of the centres had and the only reason I read them anymore was for the basic times of things. It wasn’t until on the way down to the cafeteria that I saw the signs posted on every other wall:
Miss Miriam’s Rules and Guidelines
1) Rules must be obeyed at all times.
2) Breakfast – 7:30 AM to 8:30 AM
Lunch – 12:30 PM to 1:30 PM
Snack – 4:00 PM to 4:30 PM
Supper – 7:30 PM to 8:30 PM
*If you’ve missed one of these, don’t expect to be served.*
3) If you leave the building, you must return by 9:00 PM
4) You must be in your rooms by 10:00 PM
5) Lights out at 11:00 PM
6) Stealing and vandalism will not be tolerated
7) If you have any questions or concerns please consult a counsellor.
The feeling of being trapped inside a cage at the zoo struck me the moment we entered the cafeteria. Many of the other kids were already sitting at the long table and they all stole a long look at us, the new kids. Not only were we new but a quick glance around the room told me we were two of the very few oldest. After what seemed like hours of waiting in line we managed to pick a spot at the far end of the table, away from most of the others. Like everywhere I went I was feeling extremely out of place even though the majority of these people were years younger than me. Or maybe that was the reason to begin with. Trying to occupy my mind, I played with my food before attacking the strawberries. Poking one with my fork, I waved it gently at my brother.
“Take it.” After all, it was his favourite fruit and by the looks of it I had taken the last ones. But more than that, it was my way of apologizing without actually having to say that I was sorry. When he smiled I felt a huge weight float off my shoulders. It might have been a small and subtle gesture, but he understood me well enough to know what I meant by it.
“You’re not mad at me?” I asked, refusing to make eye contact.
“Of course not,” his response came quickly and he sounded almost offended at me for thinking so little of him.
With that being said I returned to my breakfast. Two seconds later I felt a heavy hand on my head and before I knew it he was actually ruffling my hair; the nerve of him. I had just managed to slap him away and was opening my mouth to tell him off when the silhouette of a person making their way towards us caught my eye and my mouth slammed shut. Without even asking he sat down across from us and smiled.
I narrowed my eyes in return.
“You’re new,” he stated as if we didn’t already know.
“When did you get here?” He was prying, being nosy, and I didn’t like it.
To my horror I heard Evan answer, “Just last night. Have you been here for a while?”
We had met this guy five seconds ago and he was already making conversation! Honestly, I will never know how he does it. The guy nodded his head and continued to tell us when he got here, why he was here, telling us his whole life story like we were old friends. I just didn’t understand it. Why was he telling us this, he didn’t even know us! But that wasn’t what really got to me. No, I could have handled that with a nod of my head and nothing more. Instead, he went on to ask why we were there and that was when I couldn’t stay any longer.
“What’s it matter to you?” I snapped, my first and only hint that I had even noticed his presence. Slamming my fork down, I proceeded to discourage him with a glare before getting up and storming out, making quite the exit. If he wanted to know about me he could go steal my file and find out himself.
It was only when I found myself sitting alone inside my room after that little explosion downstairs that I realized how terribly dull and boring these rooms really were. It held nothing but two beds, matching side tables with a lamp on each, and a small wardrobe in the corner that was already cramped with all the stuff we had shoved in there. No wonder I was feeling so depressed. Deciding to occupy my mind more than I already was I grabbed my shoulder bag and headed out of the room. I wasn’t sure where I was going exactly, but I knew I was looking for something. After all, this place had to have something to do, right?
After half an hour of aimless wandering I found myself in some sort of entertainment room. When I first entered it I was surprised at its size. It was big enough to fit everyone at once and everything inside it looked new. I was shocked, to say the least. None of the other places had things like this. Sure, some of them had a TV room or something, but this had everything. Against the far wall sat a big flat screen TV with two couches, a few hard chairs, and a table in front of them all. By the windows there were two computers that seemed to actually work, which was always nice. On the opposite side of the room there was a pool table and another game, though I wasn’t sure what it was, and in two corners there were a bunch of games for the little kids.
Needless to say, I was impressed. To my liking, there weren’t too many people, so I made myself comfortable on one of the sofas before popping in my headphones and taking out my sketch book, flipping it open to my most recent sketch. I had been drawing since the youngest age I could remember. It started in coloring books, then on the walls in my bedrooms when I couldn’t find any blank pieces of paper. From there it went on to people’s casts, rocks, cars and graffiti.
I drew on whatever I could get my hands on and I’m still doing it today. Whether it be draw, sketch, color, paint, stencil, I’ll do it. I can’t get enough of that feeling of putting a pencil to paper and drawing; creating something. Not knowing what the final product will look like, sometimes not even knowing what I’m drawing at all. Just drawing.
It gave me a small sense of freedom, something very private and personal. Drawing gave me a means of control. Though not one brush stroke, not one tree nor one line was exactly the same, I could control it. If I didn’t like it I could fix it, start over and do it the way I wanted to. I could hardly control my own life. I couldn’t control how long I had my parents for, I couldn’t control the punishments for those men that have never been caught for murder, I can’t control what family I will go to next and I can’t decide for myself what house I will be living in, but these were my images to create. They were my control.
As I continued my attempt to draw something, not something perfect but something that everyone could pull meaning from, I felt my left headphone being pulled from my ear.
“Nice picture.”
The words hadn’t even registered in my brain before natural reflexes, or was it instinct, kicked in and I slammed my sketch facedown onto my knees to hide it from view. The way my left hand was in the air before I even realized it, the guy would have been hit in the face if he hadn’t grabbed my wrist before my fist made contact with his jaw. One headphone was still in my ear but I didn’t take it out. He still had his hand wrapped firmly but gently around my wrist, looking at me in complete amusement as I glared at him and let out a small breath of air I hadn’t known I was holding. With an obvious smirk he dropped my hand before glancing at the covered drawing and then back up at me.
“I said, nice picture.”
“And I heard you the first time,” I answered, putting the fallen headphone back in my ear. Of course, that was only to get it taken out again, but instead of screaming like I wanted to I just turned off my music and faced him.
“What do you want?”
“Can I see it?” He didn’t move, just stared at me, his eyes hardly blinking it seemed.
“What?” Couldn’t he tell that I didn’t want to talk to him? Why couldn’t he just take the way too obvious hint and leave me alone? But instead of getting up and leaving like I clearly wanted him to, he answered my question.
“Your drawing. Can I see your drawing?”
Maybe I was over reacting, but my mind reeled at the thought. Now why would he want to do that, why would he even expect me to show him? I didn’t know this guy, I had met him downstairs for about a fraction of a minute but that didn’t mean I knew him. Hell, I didn’t even know the first letter in his name.
“No, you can’t. These are my drawings and they are none of your business.” My attempt at acting somewhat calm was lost the moment I opened my mouth and raised my voice a little too loudly.
“Besides, it’s crap just like the rest of them.” And with that I ripped it out of my book, picked up the other three balled up pieces of paper and left the room. As I passed by the garbage cans outside the door I tossed out the four mangled balls and carried on to my room. I didn’t care anyways. They were just pointless sketches that had no meaning at all. No life poured from them, no feeling was felt by looking at them. They were worthless and I had put them where they belonged. In the trash.
***
Evan was in the room when I got there, but I didn’t give any form of a greeting. Instead, I found myself running a bath, lounging in deep water filled with white foamy bubbles. As the hot water soothed my muscles, it also made me feel better mentally. I knew that I was being rude, stubborn, a complete bitch really, but who could blame me? I had just gotten us kicked out of our sixth foster home. I didn’t mean to, but I guess I didn’t try very hard either. Even Evan had to admit, some of those families were terrible and it was really for our own good. Some of them weren’t so bad though, like that last family. They were just a bit too nice. All into rules, the bible, church. I mean, I’m glad they had their priorities straight, but they just weren’t the same as mine.
Once I’d finished my bath I felt a hundred times better and when I got back into the room to see my brothers’ tired face I couldn’t quite remember why I had been so angry with him. That night was spent talking, apologizing, laughing, and coming up with crazy ideas of what our next home would be like. The next day wasn’t great, but it had been better than the last, and that was how it was for the first little while until one day started what would be the beginning of a bit of fun at the centre. I had soon grown bored of the entertainment room and I’d been longing to go outside and do something active. Within minutes of the idea I had changed into my black stretch workout sweats and tank top and before I knew it I had found myself a nice little jogging trail that weaved around the city.
I had always enjoyed running; the more I ran the more energy I seemed to have. I felt as if I could run forever, run so far and so fast that I’d be leaving all the troubles of reality behind me, and I never wanted to stop in case that reality caught up to me. There was something incredibly calming about running in the Fall. Leaves were changing from their luscious green to crisp shades of yellow, red, and orange, changing the world into a place of vibrant color.
“Sam! Hey Sam! Wait up!”
I heard it, and I also heard the annoying voice that was behind it. The calling continued but I overlooked it. Instead of stopping I moved my legs faster, trying to lose him in the small crowd of people, and just when I thought I had gotten rid of him he appeared right beside me, sweating slightly and panting like an animal. He obviously didn’t get out running much.
“You put up one hell of a chase,” he laughed and I slowed my pace just a bit.
“Wait a minute, how do you know my name?” I asked, turning my head and raising an eyebrow. I knew for sure that I hadn’t given it to him myself. In fact, I hadn’t even spoken to him since that day with the sketches.
“Your brother,” he shrugged. That was all he needed to say. Evan, the perfect and polite young man that everybody loved and adored. Of course he had, why wouldn’t he? Rolling my eyes in reply I stretched my legs forward and quickened my pace once again, taking off at a fast but steady run.
“So, are you stalking me now?” It seemed a bit weird to me. I was nowhere near the home and this guy just happened to be there at the same time. The likeliness of that happening and being pure coincidence was very slim in my mind.
He looked a bit taken aback by what I had accused him of, and I couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that found its way onto my face.
“Of course not, I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Great, but why should I bother talking to you?”
“Because you’re bored and have nothing better to do, because we’re both here right now? Or maybe because you’re in desperate need of some human conversation?” He paused, probably expecting me to cut him off, but I restrained myself.
“What are you saying, I’m unsociable?” I shot at him, accusation burning through my words.
“Are you always this stubborn?”
“Always,” I smirked.
“Just a drink, what’ll it hurt?” He wasn’t answering my question and for once I didn’t push it. When I gave no immediate response, he threw me a big grin and shrugged his shoulders, “That’s okay, I can be silent, too.”
After a short time of jogging I felt myself cave. What could it hurt? It was pointless, though he didn‘t seem to think so. In a few weeks I would be gone, or he would be gone and we would forget all about each other anyways.
“Fine,” I said, “But it’s only so you will leave me alone.”
This boy - well, he wasn’t much of a boy, but I wasn’t completely sure what to call him - led me to a nearby café where I ordered myself a small hot chocolate and he asked for a coffee. I wasn’t all that excited to be there, but I figured if I gave him at least half an hour he would leave me alone for good. He had good taste, I would at least give him that. The café wasn’t one that I pegged him to know of. Pale, eggshell blue walls and white, quaint little tables gave it a whimsical feel. I approved instantly, noting it’s authenticity and the various bookshelves in the corners.
“So, what’s your name anyways?” I asked once we had sat down. Usually I was never the one to start a conversation, but that question had been bugging me for days and it made me feel one step behind, threatened even, knowing that he knew mine but I hadn’t a clue of his.
“Kieran. Kieran Ritcher.”
When I didn’t say anything back he just looked at me before attempting to make conversation. “Your brother told me about what happened; why you’re here.”
“Yeah well he shouldn’t have, it’s got nothing to do with you.” I could feel the shame bubbling under my skin, the guilt and the anger that had never worn off. Above all else, I did not want to be pitied.
“And he told me you’d react like that.” There was a tiny hint of satisfaction on his face, and his eyes were staring at me as if he was trying to read my soul.
“Then why would you bring it up?” I stared back, my eyes icy and cold.
There was a look of uncertainty on his face as he said, “It’s okay to talk and remember things from the past you know.”
“Thanks, but you’re not my shrink.”
It was a harsh thing to say, but I couldn’t stop the words that had tumbled from my mouth. I thought that he might get angry or quiet but instead he just laughed. For some reason I felt the tensed muscles in my shoulders loosen. It was an odd feeling, to be comfortable. From there, Kieran didn’t back down at all. He wanted to know more and more. Personally, I didn’t know what was so fascinating about me, but he continued to throw out questions. He seemed to do all the talking and I didn’t mind at all, but at the same time he managed to get me talking. Before I could stop myself I started to put my guards down and relax. The hot chocolate felt warm against my hands and heated my body from the chilly Autumn breeze as I drank.
Half an hour had passed and already there was just something about him that made me feel as though I could trust him. Perhaps he had noticed how fidgety I had become, because after a short while he slowly began to stop with all of his questions. This confused me greatly. Never had I shared so much with someone in such a small amount of time, and actually been comfortable with it. All I could hope for was that he wouldn’t use it against me. I hadn’t told him even half of my story but even so, he knew more than most.
