Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 

     When I got home that afternoon my little sister rand and hid behind me. I found out why too late. My mom came out of her room chasing one of her "friends". of course, it was more like stumbling instead of running. She was drunk. Again.

     The guy she was chasing stopped in the hallway where the front door was located and looked at me and at my little sister, who was now peering around my leg to watch the scene.

     "You didn't tell me you had kids."

     "They are mine! I swear! They belong to one of the families down the street! I sometimes baby-sit them."

     The man suddenly turned around and grabbed at her wrist and shouted at my mother. "Don't lie!" He turned and opened the door, intending to leave, but turned around and said "You should try to grow up and make an honest living. Take care of your family." and with that he left.

     My mother looked defeated. Then she saw my sister looking up at her and started shouting. I quickly decided that it wasn't safe and sent Kim to her room, to our "secret hiding place". Mom turned and tried to reach for her but missed and fell over into a drunken heap on the floor.

     "This is all your fault you spoiled little brat!" She got up and tried running towards Kim, making very little progress.

     I've about had it with my mother. Things are getting violent and I know better then to keep Kim here, so I sidestepped my mother, grabbed Kim and made a run for her room. When we got there, I put Kim down and handed her one of her backpacks.

     "You remember what to pack?" When she nodded and started filling it with clothes and the spare toothbrush she kept in her room I walked over to the door and checked the three locks I had placed on it a few years ago. They were all locked. Beyond the door, I could here my mother going into a drunken rampage. It 's no longer safe to keep a child under this roof.

     When Kim was finished filling her bag with things, I walked over to the window, opened it and kicked out the screen. I picked Kim up and dropped her on the ground. Before jumping out myself, I hear my mother cursing and shouting and throwing things around. I jumped out the window without looking back.

 

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     The first time my mom got drunk after we moved here, I tried running away. That was before Kim was born. I was in third grade.

     One of the problems with running away when you're in third grade is that you have no money, and even if you did, nobody would let you use it.  I was running without a destination or a plan.

     I ran past a house where a lady was pulling weeds in her garden. She must have saw my backpack and the way I was running because the next thing I knew, she was calling to me.

     "Why you running so fast girl?"

     I stopped running and just looked at her. I didn't answer her question, but she saw right through me.

     "Running away from home, are you?"

     I nodded.

     "Well, come on in then. If you're running away, it's a dang good thing you ran by here, otherwise someone else would have taken you in and who knows what would have happened."

     She took me into the kitchen, sat me down at a table, and set a plate of cookies in front of me. The she went to the fridge and returned with the milk carton and a glass. She didn't ask me why I was running away. I guess she knew I was going to tell her anyway. I told her the whole thing without being asked or prodded for information.

     When I finished telling her the horrible details of my mothers drunken outrage, she just said grimly "Too many mothers these days turning to the drink." Then she turned to me and looked me straight in the eye. "I run a group home for children of all ages. I see too many kids come through with stories too much like yours. You are welcome and safe here anytime you feel like running away again. Now, follow me and I'll find you a bed."

     When Kim was born two years later, my mom stopped drinking for a while. But that didn't last long.

 

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     I walked to the porch and opened the door. Mrs. Fallstaff only locks it at night. It's pointless to lock it when it gets used so much.

     "Is that you Chris?" Mrs.Fallstaff says as she comes out of the kitchen and into the hallway. "Oh, Sophie, Kim! Come on in. Now, go put your stuff down in the room and come back into the kitchen. I've got a plate of fresh cookies to be eaten."

     Kim smiles and runs to the girls' room to drop her stuff off on the bed that was kept open for her use. She loves Mrs. Fallstaff's cookies and wont waste a second of time putting her stuff away when she could be sitting in a chair in the kitchen eating them as if she hadn't eaten anything ever.

     When I didn't follow, Mrs. Fallstaff realized that I was only dropping Kim off. "You be careful when you go back into that home. I don't want to be picking your dead body out of the trash tomorrow morning."

     I let out a little laugh. Mrs.Fallstaff has a way lightening the mood up with jokes, even when she gives orders.

     Kim appeared behind her, waiting like a good girl for her cookies and milk. Then Mrs.Fallstaff lead her into the kitchen to a piping hot plate of fresh cookies. I took one, ate it, then turned to Kim.

     "You do your homework, ok? You don't want to fall behind in school."  Kim can't speak because her mouth is too full of cookies, so she just nods, then continues eating. I stand up and go out the door. I decide to wait a little while before going home. Mom might need some time to sober up before it's safe for me to even go near that house.

     My head is too full of things to think of, so I'm not really watching where my feet are taking me. Before long, I realize that I ended up leaving the ghetto. I'm now in the richer end of town, which is ironically on the street next to the street where we live. I guess it's a way to remind us of what we could have, but can't afford, so we can't have it. It's a way of putting us in our place. A bunch of kids are playing in the street. It must be nice to be able to play with friends and not have to worry about where you might be sleeping tonight or if you'll eat dinner or not.

 

 

     When I get home, mom is no where to be found. I go into the kitchen and start cooking dinner. She'll show up when she's hungry.

     An hour and a half later, she comes through the front door leading another man by the arm. This one I haven't seen before.

     "Oh honey, you're home!" She's even more drunk now then she was before and she starts laughing.

     "I made dinner." I walk into the kitchen door and lean against the frame.

     She turns to the man and tells him to go into the room and that she'll be right there. Then she looks at me and says " Do you have a place you can stay tonight? A friends maybe? Or that youth home you like being at all the time?"

     "Why? I've got a perfectly useful room right down the hall." I reply, as I walk into the kitchen and serve her a plate of spaghetti.

     "I've got work to do." She says more to the spaghetti then to me. To my mother, working and sleeping with strangers was the same thing. I believe they call her a prostitute these days, but in her mind she is nothing but an innocent working girl earning money to support her family.

     "Why can't you get a real job? Like most mothers do these days." My words may seem harsh, but I've been around long enough to know that my mother will never try to get a normal job.

     "You don't understand! I do work! But every place that has ever hired me fired me the first week!"

     "That's because in order to keep a job you actually have to do work!"

     She looks down at her plate, and for a second I thought she might have been contemplating what I said, but the she turns to the side and throws up on the linoleum floor. She then passed out face first into her plate of spaghetti.

     Sighing, I go to the closet and grab the mop. How many times have I done this? So many I could go professional. She wakes up after I put the mop away, and the drunken rampage settles in.

     "You're just like they are! You want me to become society's b***h!" In her ranting, she stood up and walked to the counter, where she picked up the large knife I used to chop up the tomatoes I put in her spaghetti. " You want me to bow down to everyone and forget who I am! You selfish w***e! You new think about what I may want!"

     She swings at me with the knife, and when the cold steel blade meets with the soft skin of my face, I feel the blade cut deep into my cheek. This isn't the first time she's drawn blood from me, but it is the first time she attacked me with a knife. I slowly move my hand to my cheek and pull it back to see my hand covered in blood.

     The man came out of the room to see my crazy drunken mother swinging a knife, and to see my face bleeding. With that sight, I'm not at all surprised by his reaction.

     "Whoa! This w***e is crazy! I'm outta here!" and with that, the man was gone, slamming the door shut on his way out.

     My mother turns to me and, still brandishing her knife, screams "Are you happy now? You scared away another one! What are you going to do to make this up to the family!"

     "ME? What about you? You're the most selfish one out of all of us! You waste whatever money we have on beer and trying to pick men up at the bar!" When she was still staring at me waiting for me to tell her how I was going to make it up to her, I add "Forget it! I'm out of here!", then I run out the door without grabbing my jacket.

     When I get to the home, Kim was already tucked into bed and fast asleep. In fact, all the girls were sleeping. When I step through the front door, the guys just sat there shocked. Chris is the first one to get over it, and he stands up, walks over to me and takes me to the bathroom, where he makes me sit on the counter top where he can look at my cheek.

     "She finally got you."

     "It's not that bad. She was in a drunken rampage again."

     "Don't you try and make that woman a saint." Mrs. Fallstaff is now leaning on the doorframe, waiting to hear Chris's assessment of my injury.

     "This might need stitches." He said, referring to another cut I received on my arm. My mother probably thinks she's a skilled swordsman or something.

     Behind us, Mrs.Fallstaff pulled out her keys and tossed them to Chris. "I can't leave the house." Then she turns and walks back to the living room. I hear her telling the rest of the boys to settle down and go to bed, followed by pleas to stay up longer.

 

     After we all had woken up, showered, ate breakfast and brushed out teeth, Mrs.Fallstaff let Chris drive us to school. She lets him drive more lately because Chris just got his license, and he's always looking for an opportunity to drive. He finally got behind the wheel of the van after rubbing it all in our faces. He's the only one in the house with a license.

     The first stop of the morning is the middle school. Mary and Jen step out of the van, perfect princesses in their little kingdom. The twins, James and Mark, follow. The twins were brought to the home after they had driven their parents crazy with all of the pranks they pull. They were supposed to be learning what model citizens do, but there's little progress with the. The princesses are here because they have bullied many kids into doing things that most people would call "cries for help." I don't think they'll ever be allowed back home.

     Chris pulls up in front of our school first. He gets out, leaving the keys in the ignition for Mrs.Fallstaff, then comes around and helps me out of the van. Jake jumps down after me. Then he heads off for his first period class to finish up homework. He doesn't have much time to do homework at home since he has a job after school, so he uses whatever time he has to do it. Jake follows him.

     Jake is a mystery to everybody. Of all the members of the home, he's the newest. He came here a year ago. He doesn't speak much to anybody. He has attached himself to Chris, though no one is sure why. I like hanging out with Jake. Since he doesn't say much, things tend to be a bit more relaxing around him.

     I decide to skip hanging with my "friends" and go up to the attic. I didn't get much time to do my homework last night either, and I haven't missed an assignment all year, and I don't intend to start now.

     When I get there, I half expect Sam to be there. I'm glad he's not. I wouldn't be able to concentrate with him here.

Author's Note

still a work in progress... all criticism is welcome.