The Photo: Chapter Two (part one corrected)

I woke up as the sunlight poured into my room. I yawned and stretched. Somehow I was still clutching the photo of the blue-eyed baby in my hand. I got up sleepily and laid the picture back on my dresser. I think the photo is magical. Like a really strong anti-depressant pill, it makes all of my worries melt away. I will have to take it to Mrs. M. today, I thought. Yet some doubt in my mind knew that I wouldn't. After I got dressed I went downstairs for breakfast.

“Good morning, Rose,” Mrs. Ranker greeted me as I walked into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Actually, yes I did.” I said truthfully. I grabbed a plate from the cabinet, and a couple of eggs from the fridge. I cracked each into a bowl and stirred them together. Then I poured them into the skillet. “Where is Ken?” I asked.

Right on cue the weirdo of a boy came clomping down the stairs, with his ear buds in. Apparently he had persuaded Mrs. Ranker to give them back to him. “What’s for breakfast, mom?” Ken asked. He grabbed an apple and threw it behind his back, and attempted to catch it with his other hand, but the apple flew behind him and fell onto the floor.

“Well, you can eat that apple now that it is bruised.” Mrs. Ranker said, looking up from the mail.

Ken grabbed the apple from off the floor and took a humongous bite out of it. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

“Where are you going?” Mrs. Ranker asked.

“Soccer field,” he said between bites.

“Alright, make sure you are home in time for supper!” she called after him.

Ken nodded and began to jog down the street.

“That reminds me Rose.” Mrs. Ranker looked up from the mail. “I need you to go to Mr. Connor’s and get 2 ½ lbs. of meat for supper tonight.” She handed me a 20 dollar bill. “This should be more than enough for it. “If you want you can stop by Madelynn’s and get a few treats for yourself.” She winked.

“Okay, thanks Mrs. Ranker!” I said. I finished my eggs hastily, ate them, and headed out the door.

  I shivered and pulled my jacket tighter. This fall was turning out to be a bitter one, and it wouldn’t be long till snow would make its appearance. Fall break would soon be over, and then, it was back to school, or, in my case, back to my very own torture chamber. It wasn't really the schoolwork part of it that bugged me; it was the social part of school that I hated.

The sun was starting to warm things up as I approached Mr. Connor’s butcher shop, so I took off my jacket.

“Good morning Rose! Are you getting the same as usual?” He asked in his thick Irish accent.

“Yes.” I answered as I handed him the 20 dollar bill.

He took the 20 and disappeared into a back room. I looked around. I hated the butcher’s shop. It always smelled horrible, and I could almost feel the silence of death.

“Aye, here you are little lass.” Mr. Connor handed me the change and the two bags.

“Thank you Mr. Connor!” I said.

“Oh, please call me Eamon." he said. “I remember when you were just a wee one. Only a mere 6 lbs. ye were.” He stared off distantly. “Your mother said you were stubborn, didn’t want to come out!” He laughed. “They were very good people Rose. You should be proud of them.” He said fondly.

“I am.” I whispered. “Goodbye Mr. Connor.” I said quickly. I had to get out of here, the tears had already started coming. Apparently I did have some tears to spare, despite how many I had already let out.

“Goodbye!” He said cheerfully, not seeing my wet eyes.

I quickly walked out and headed toward the soccer field. I slowly wiped my tears away. I wanted to see Ken. Somehow, (despite how terribly annoying he is) he always seemed to make me smile. I looked up to see Ken walking towards me. That’s weird. I thought. The soccer field was at least 10 minutes from here. He must of not stayed for very long. I decided.

“Hey Ken.” I said.

“Hey,” he said quieter than usual.

I stared at the ground and followed Ken silently. I wanted to ask him so many questions, about me, about my family. Finally I got the nerve to ask him one. “Did-did you know my brother?” I asked.

He slowed down suddenly. “No, not really.” He said slowly.

“Oh.” I said solemnly, and continued walking, while staring at the ground.

He quickened his pace a little and spoke. “Well, I guess I did a little. Why do you ask?"

The questions spilled out of my heart like a fountain. “What did he like to do? Did he look like me?” I asked. “What was his favorite food?”

“I said I knew him a little! It’s not like I watched his every move!” Ken barked.

I was silent for the rest of the way home.

Finally Ken broke the silence as we walked up the driveway. “Pizza. His favorite food was pizza.” He said quietly. He then opened the door to the house, and went up the stairs to his room.

Pizza, I thought as I opened the door. His favorite food was pizza. I smiled to myself at the newly gained knowledge of my past.