Dear Reader(s),
All of this is true. All of this is taken from my memory. If you haven't heard about the Red Lake shooting of 2005... Then look it up, because this is about the girl who survived... this is about the friend that I had... and how lucky she is that she's out of this whole "child-protection" shit. Fucken --Ay... Well, get to reading. I'm on my foster moms computer... so... I won't type much. Basically it's about me, it's my thoughts, it's about the people I've met, the people I've lost, and the person I am... now. My Entire Situation. Pretty dramatic huh?
Rated R, because it's based off... actual events that are still going on right now.
---Elizabeth Mei Mathers
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Introduction
Ahh shit, I thought.
I had never been called down to the office before in my life. I knew why they had called me. Lucas looked at me weird and for a split-second I was afraid this would be the last time I saw him. That little nerd with the beaky nose and the thin-rimmed glasses. I hated him so much, but at the same time the thought of never seeing him killed me. I mean, he and I were the only kids in our French class; without me there'd only be him. And when it came to acidemics, he was up there right next to friggin' Einstine. I hated him so much but, as I said, I'd be sad without him.
There was some strange blond chick standing at the doors, who I had never seen. She was a pretty lady, pretty tall, pretty thin, pretty hair and eyes, pretty dress. All in all, a pretty lady. Without any word, just a slight nod, she led me down to the main office. Ahh shit, I thought again. Nobody would go to the main office unless their parents were there or they were in deep trouble. I tried ot figure out what was going on as I listened to the clicking of those black heels that this lady wore.
She led me to an office that was probably hers. She gestured to a chair, telling me to have a seat, and I sat. I felt like an idiot, staring at the walls as she stared at me. There were diplomas and pictures of her and her children hanging next to a Hmong quilt and French poster. She crossed her legs and I crossed mine. When in Rome...
"You are Elizabeth?" she asked in a calm, business-like voice. I nodded. I didn't want to talk to her. I didn't want to talk to this stranger who stared so oddly at me. I couldn't read her face, I didn't know what she was going to say but she knew what she was going to say. I didn't want to think she'd say what I thought she'd say.
"Hi, I'm Janice Breen, Harding's Social Worker. I got a call from a concerned parent, who said you came to their house this morning," she turned to her computer, clicked, and turned back towards me, "The parent was worried about you. She said that something had happened last night and I need to know what happened."
I sat there thinking, holding my French book in my hand, wondering about what I was going to say. Should I mention the mental anguish I've been suffering, or the last minute break-down at Roy's house? How much did Roy's mom tell this lady? Although she didn't mention it was Roy's mom, I knew it was. No other adult knew about this.
I stared at her blandly and I said, "Well, what did she tell you?"
"Well," Janice began, "She mentioned that you were crying because you had some issues at home." Aww Jesus Fucking Christ, I thought. Fess up? Lie? Shrug it off and not answer? What the fuck am I supposed to do?
"Yes, there are issues," I sighed. I felt my eyebrows droop and before I knew it I was glarign all around the room, reading whatever I could, hoping to distract myself but I knew it was a stupid thought. I felt myself just sag over and suddenly I wanted to die. For the first time since I was 13 I wanted to just fall over and die. It was very selfish because I thought about it without giving into consideration my boyfriend, my friends, my mom, or even my teachers.
"What types of issues?"
"What issues did she mention?"
This woman who seemed to know everything, yet nothing, about me stared blankly at me. She looked around too, just as I had, only nervously. I knew what she was going to say. She knew what she was going to say; so why didn't she just say it? Ah ha, I thought, so it is true then, we are all humans. Even adults feel nervous sometimes you idiot.
"Well, she mentioned that your father had been --"
"Touching me?" I slowly turned my eyes towards the ground. Ashamed. Depressed. Angry.
"Yes," Janice nodded her head.
Points: 890
Reviews: 24
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