Chapter four

 

Chapter four

 

     The next day of school is unbearable. Eyes glare at me from every direction. It’s amazing how fast gossip spreads. It’s like a plague, threatening to spread throughout the entire student body. I head up to the attic, intending to fully ditch all of my classes.

     One event in my miserable life and the layer of invisibility I’ve worked so hard for is gone, unraveled by the terrible decision of Ms. Shames. I wish I had a time machine. I’d go back in time and prevent Ms. Shames from ever even thinking of mentioning my name to the entire math class.

     Time ticks by slowly here in my little attic world, and lunch finally comes. I’m in the middle of a really good book that was banned from school libraries by angry parents a few ago. I can’t see why they would want to ban it. There’s nothing in it that most teenagers don’t do or say or experience. In fact, if I compared my life to this book, the story isn’t bad at all. Does that mean that if the students parents hear about me, they’d want to ban me too, like this book?

     I’m so into the book and my own thoughts I jump when the door opens. It’s like the first day of school all over again. He walks in and sits in the dusty old chair across from me. Then he just sits and stares at me. After a little while he gets up and leaves. I guess the bell must have rang.

 

     Mom was waiting for me on Mrs.Fallstaff’s porch when we pulled into the driveway. She’s going to ask me to bring Kim home. She’s going to promise me that she’ll change. She’s going to promise that she’ll try to get a normal job. She’s going to promise never to drink again.

     But I know better then to believe these false promises. They’ve been made before, and they have been broken before. Just because she says she’ll really try doesn’t mean she will. She just wants me and Kim home so she doesn’t look like a bad mother. It’s a little too late for that though.

     I try to walk past her, but she grabs my arm. What’s with people doing that lately? It’s really beginning to bug me. Do I have a sign somewhere that says “Please, grab my arm and stop me from walking away.”?

     “Honey, please listen to me.”

     I turn around and face her. Tears are streaming down her face. She looks so old and alone. She looks scared. I wanted to hug her, but from personal experience decide that it’s not the best thing to do. She’s trying to suck me into her trap where she cries and then begs me to come home. It’s not going to work this time.

     “I’m listening.”

     She stood there, shocked. I don’t think she expected me to hear her out. She opened her mouth, then closed it, at a loss for the right words.

     We stand there, staring at each other. I lean against the door and fold my arms across my chest, waiting to hear more empty lies and false promises. She stands leaning against the railing, looking for the “right” thing to say.

     She finally finds the right words to speak, and she ends up begging.

     “Can’t you try to believe me?”

     I have nothing to say to that, so I keep my mouth shut and keep staring at her.

     “Please, I’m really trying here.  I’ll change. I promise.”

     “Like you did all the other times?” I turn around and go into the house.

     Jake looks up from his spot on the couch. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes show he understands. After a moment he turns his attention back to his book. I turn and go into the kitchen to go help with dinner. I hear my mother walk off the porch and leave. Kim comes into the kitchen and sits at the table, then looks up at me expectantly.

     “What did  mommy say?”

     “ Nothing she hasn’t said before.”

     “When will we go home?”

     “ I don’t know.”

 

     There’s a kind of tradition at the house. After dinner we all do the dishes together and then we go into the living room and talk about out day. It’s meant  to be like group therapy I guess, only more family oriented.

     We’re not very cooperative tonight, and I think Mrs. Fallstaff is getting so angry she’s going to explode all over the place. Instead she gets up and walks into another room in the house. That’s what we’re supposed to do when we get angry. It helps keep what little order there is in this house.

     After about five minutes, Chris rounds up the children, telling them if they don’t want to cooperate, they can just go to bed early. They sit down and shut up real fast. When Mrs. Fallstaff comes back, we’re running the “therapy” session smoothly. She stands in the kitchen door and watches us, unwilling to risk ruining the peace.

     When we’ve finished talking it’s time for the younger kids to go to bed. The twins complain, saying they should get the same curfew as Chris, Jake and me. Then the two princesses start demanding a later curfew as well. Mrs. Fallstaff threatens that if they don’t stop complaining she’ll make them go to bed earlier, and they quickly gave up and went off to bed.

     Chris, Jake and I stay on the couch, sitting in silence. Jake takes out his book and starts reading. I should tell him about the attic. I bet he would love most of the books up there. Chris gets his backpack and pulls out homework. His teachers don’t seem to understand that they give too much homework for a person who works as much as Chris does. He tries his hardest to turn everything in. Both of his parents were high school drop outs and he saw how they turned out. He doesn’t want to end up like them. He has plans for his future, and they don’t include living on the street and selling drugs.

     I lean my head back and breath deeply, closing my eyes. Jake gives me a curious look, but doesn’t ask anything. I’m sure Chris gave him a look that told him not to ask. Jake gets up off the couch and goes into his room. When he comes back, both me and Chris are watching him, curious. He hands me a book, then sits back down and opens his and starts reading again. I’ve definitely got to tell him about the attic.

 

     The next day is Saturday. In most households that would mean the young kids get up and watch cartoons, and the older ones sleep in, tired from staying up too late. Not in this house. Instead, we all wake up as if we were going to school.

     I get up and start making breakfast. Chris goes and gets the kids up. Down the hall I hear the complaints of Mary and Jen as the twins shoot them with foam balls. Jake comes into the kitchen and sits at the table, watching me make breakfast. Soon, everybody is in the kitchen, except for Mrs. Fallstaff. She works early on weekends since she doesn’t have to drive a bunch of kids to school.

     When breakfast is over, Chris goes to work and the kids all go about doing their various chores. It’s up to me and Jake to do the grocery shopping.

 

***                  ***                  ***                  ***                  ***                  ***

 

     Jake has never been a man of many words. When he first came to the house, he wouldn’t speak to anybody. The only people who didn’t try and make him talk we me and Chris. Jake hung out with us because we didn’t prod at him like a math problem waiting to be solved.

     I wasn’t around the house very much in those days. I had to be at home taking care of Kim and my mother. In those days, mom took her “work” elsewhere because of young and innocent Kim.

     Jake eventually started talking, but only to Chris. I was shocked when he started talking to me too. It was like an invitation to an exclusive club, and it made me feel special, like someone cared. He still didn’t say very much, but it was more then he said to anybody else.

     When school started that year, the teachers all hated him. He wouldn’t talk to them, or answer questions when they called on him when he didn’t raise his hand. They were more upset when they found out that he talked to me and Chris.

 

***                  ***                  ***                  ***                  ***                  ***

 

     Since neither me or Jake had our driver’s license, we had to take the bus. The only other person on this early on a Saturday morning was the resident Hobo. He kept winking at me. I was glad when the bus finally stopped in front of the grocery store and we had to get off.

     We were in the fruits and vegetables section when I thought I heard someone calling me. I ignored it, thinking it was only my imagination. Who would be calling out my name when nobody sees me?

     “I think that guy knows you.” Jake said, not looking up from the two apples he was comparing

      When I looked up and saw it was Sam, I groaned. What was he doing here?

     “That was enthusiastic.” Jake was still comparing the same two apples.

     “Whatever. He’s the new kid at our school. He’s been following me around like a lost little puppy.” I reach over, grab the apple from his left hand and put it in the bag.

     “Don’t like him much?”

     “Not really.”

     “Did you even give him a chance?”

     When I think about it, no, I didn’t give Sam a chance. I had just assumed he was making a deal with the Jocks. I didn’t think he might actually want to be friends with me, because how often has that happened in my life?

     “Hey Sophie.” He said, smiling.

     Maybe I should give him a chance. After all, he seemed willing to give me a chance.

     “Hey Sam.”

     “So, how are you?”

     “I’m fine.”

     “Are you still mad at me?”

     Sighing, I replied, “No. I guess not.” Jake had now moved on the oranges.

     “Great! Wanna hang out?” Three nearby shoppers looked up at his sudden loudness.

     “Sorry, but I can’t. I’ve got chores to do.”

     “Bummer.” He looked genuinely sad.

     “Wanna come over?” When he heard me say that, his enthusiasm was back times ten.

     Just as he was about to answer, Jake interrupted “He can’t.”

     “Why not?”  I can’t believe the guy who just told me to give the guy a chance wasn’t so willing to either.

     “He’ll get in the way.”

     “No he won’t. If anything, he’ll help out, right Sam?”

     “Yup! Hey, who is this guy? Your brother?”

     “No, he’s not my brother. He’s just a good friend.” When I said that, Jake gave me a look that was unreadable. Somewhere between annoyed and happy.

     “I think we’ve got all that we can carry.” Jake said, looking at our full basket.

     After we went through the check out and paid for everything, we each took a bag and went to wait for the bus.

     “Let me carry something.” Sam said as he reached for one of the bags I was carrying.

     I swear I had never seen Jake glare at someone the way he glared at Sam. I can’t think of any reason why Jake would hate Sam, but apparently he does.

     “So, where do you live?” Jake’s glare got worse. If Sam doesn’t shut up, we’re going to have a homicide on our hands.

     “Not to far from here. You’ll see when we get there.”

   

     When we get back to the house, the kids are all running around. Sam looks a little shocked to see so many kids in one house. Since he wasn’t paying attention to what was going on, he didn’t see Kim run up behind him and us him as a shield. Mark and James walk up to him, angry frowns on their faces.

     “Hey you! Move outta the way!” Mark demanded as he and James tried reaching around him for Kim.

     Snapping out of it, Sam replyed “ No, I don’t think I can.”

     “Why not?’ James asked, as rudely as possible.

     “Because you shouldn’t bully girls.”

     “Oh, She’s not a girl. She’s just Kim.” Mark stated as he grabbed Kim’s hair.

     “She’s still a girl, and you shouldn’t bully her.”

     I went into the kitchen and started putting groceries away. Jake followed, and when Sam tried to come to, I told him to play with the kids, since he was getting along so well with them.

     “What happened to giving people chances?” I asked as Jake handed me a  loaf of bread to put into the refrigerator.

     “What do you mean?”

     “You told me to give Sam a chance, so why aren’t you doing the same, Mr. Hypocritical?”

     “Your ability to make up nicknames at the drop of the hat is amazing.”

     “You didn’t answer my question.”

     “I don’t play to nicely with others.” Then he turned around and left.

     I was almost finished putting the groceries away when the twins dragged Sam into the kitchen. They obviously found a reason to like him enough to torture him instead of Kim. Poor Kim. She tries so hard to get a chance to hang out with them, but just like that she’s tossed aside, like a broken toy.

     “We’re going to play outside.” Mark says, then he and James drag Sam outside.

     Kim wanders into the kitchen and sits at the table, nothing to do now that the twins had Sam to torture.

     “ Hey Kim, want to help me make lunch?” When she seemed uninterested I added, “ you get to decide who does the dishes.”

      She was suddenly very interested. The grin on her face had revenge written all over it. She ran to the fridge and stated pulling out the things we’d need to make sandwiches. Then she pulled a chair over for her to stand on. She was still too short for the counter top.

     After we finished making all the sandwiches we’d need, Kim ran and got the boys enthusiastically. I bet she couldn’t wait for her revenge. When Sam and the twins came in they were all kinda sweaty. I told the twins to go get Mary and Jen. They looked at each other, grinned, then took off down the hall. Thirty seconds later, we hear the shrill scream of two pre-teen girls. Sam slid into a seat at the table, obviously sore from rough housing. Jake wandered in and sat down, leaving a chair in between him and Sam for me.

     “ Those are some rambunctious little brothers you have there.”

     “Oh, they aren’t my brothers.”

     “Then, are they kids you’re babysitting?”

     “Nope.”

     “Then are they your cousins?”

     “No, the only one who is related to me here is Kim. She’s my little sister. The others come from different families. They’re here because things weren’t working out too well for them back home.”

     “Oh, so this is a home for troubled children then!”

     Jake gave him a look dirtier then the ones from earlier today. He hated it when people refered to us as “troubled children.” As far as he was concerned we were normal kids that had stupid parents that couldn’t handle themselves, much less children. He also hates it when people lable us as “troubled” as if we’ve been bad and are getting punished for it. He grabbed his lunch and went out onto the porch, slamming the door shut hard.

     “Was it something I said?”

     “Don’t mind him. He just hates it when people call us “troubled”, since we aren’t”

     “Oh, then, rehab?”

     “No, that’s not either. We’re all hear because of some stupid mistake our parents made. Well, except for the twins. They managed to get here on their own.”

     “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. Should I go apologize to him?”

     “Naw, Jake will get over it. If he seems like he doesn’t like you, don’t feel bad. He’s just like that with everyone.”