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THEY SAY IT'S HOME- CHAPTER ONE
Private Notes
Private Notes
Notes
I could hardly see for all the yellow. Blinking awkwardly, I stepped out of the taxi and into the sun. Buttery light spilt out from a crack in the clouds, melting over my skin in unexpected warmth; I could almost forget it was winter.
âIâll be back in about fifteen minutes, if you can please wait until then,â Evelyn said to the cabbie as she pulled out my battered duffle bag.
The cabbie gave a noncommittal grunt and Evelyn replied with a satisfied nod, as if she spoke the guttural language of the cab-troll, and turned to face me. âAre you ready Charlotte?â
I stared forward into the sun, eyes beginning to water and burn. I heard her sigh. âI said, are you ready?â I nodded briskly, trying to let her frustration wash over me. It was no use getting caught up in the waterfall emotions of this woman. I needed to stay stoic and unaffected; Iâd learned that lesson a long time ago.
Her heels clicked determinedly against the pavement. âIt was hard finding someone to take you in at such short notice,â she reminded me, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I dodged and she sighed again in exasperation. âI donât know why you had to insist on running away from the Morrisonâs. Again.â
âI told you, they were racist,â I replied sulkily, crossing my arms over my flat chest. âThey didnât like having to feed a little Indian girl. They made me do all the chores on the farm and always complained I didnât do them right.â
âOh Charlotte, they werenât racist,â she said. âEvery kid who stays at the farm has to participate in the family chores. Itâs character building.â
âYou werenât there,â I said loudly, letting the anger that was building up inside of me out. âYou didnât hear what they said when they thought I wasnât listening.â
Evelyn put her hand on my shoulder and stared at me in that unnervingly calm way she had, cherry lips pursed together tightly. âListen dear, this isnât the first place youâve run away from, so sorry if I donât necessarily believe everything you say. Thereâs always some sort of excuse for you to run off, isnât there? Just do me this one favor, and give this place a chance, please. Try to make yourself at home here.â
I took a deep breath and looked away from her liquid gaze, letting the muscles in my shoulders loosen a bit. Evelyn wasnât right this time, the Morrisonâs had been a family of racists, but Iâd cried wolf too many times. Every family Iâd stayed with the past three years had been horrible in different ways, but I could understand why she might be a little fed up. Evelyn was the closest thing I had to family, and it did hurt to see the disappointment in her eyes. âAlright, Iâll try.â
Evelynâs smile settled the heaving that was in my stomach. It was hard meeting people and hoping so hard that you could fit in and being disappointed every time. I wasnât sure how many tries I had left in me.
âThank you Charlotte.â She reached out again to fix my hair, and this time I let her. The harsh chopping off had been a spur of the moment decision, and I knew the dismay she had felt at seeing my miles of dark, lustrous hair gone. I actually liked it though, my head had never felt so light before. Iâd never really felt so me.
As Evelyn turned to face the door I shook the bangs back into my eyes. She wasnât going to win every battle today. The doorbell chimed loudly, more of a screech than a ring, and Evelyn raised an eyebrow at me so that I giggled and looked at the ground.
We stood in silence on a plain green door mat. She tapped her foot impatiently and glanced at the watch adorning her slim wrist before ringing the bell again. âI do hope theyâre home, I have a schedule to keep-â
The door swung wide open and she stopped mid-sentence. I glanced up and saw why. The girl stood there silently, almost furiously, as if daring us to say anything wrong. Somehow Evelyn found her voice, faltering slightly before evening out.
âOh-you, you must be Lauren, right?â she sputtered.
The girl glared back openly. âYes.â I blinked.
âOh, well itâs- itâs nice to meet you isnât it?â She bobbed her head between the door and the inside hallway of the house like a bird. âIs Mrs. Allen home?â
The girl slowly ran her eyes over us, casting judgment, before she swung the door open wider to admit us entry. âYes.â
I averted my eyes from her poisonous gaze and pretended to study my feet as I followed Evelyn in. The door slammed shut and she marched off in front, leading us forward.
The girl had a vicious red burn scar twisting down from the left side of her jaw to her right collarbone, disappearing into the top of her black tank top. I couldnât begrudge her acrimonious attitude; she either faced the world daring them to say something or let the whispers overcome her. I could relate to that. I was always the one little desi in a white, white world.
I watched her brassy orange ponytail bouncing against her shoulders, and felt vividly that I knew her. I couldnât place it as my eyes traced the back of her neck and freckled elbows, but something about this girl was achingly familiar. I let those thoughts fall away as we approached the kitchen; if Iâd met her before I definitely wouldnât have forgotten.
We entered the kitchen to see a tall blond woman stirring something on the stove.
âDenni, theyâre here,â the girl said, and the woman turned around in surprise.
âOh crap, already?â She smiled at us, a little frazzled, and wiped her hands on her apron.
âHello Mrs. Allen,â Evelyn said smoothly, as always. âIâm sorry to have to intrude upon you at such short notice, but we really appreciate you welcoming us to your home, donât we Charlotte?â
I looked at her to nod, and saw the girl behind her stiffen suddenly. I tilted my head at her quizzically and she stared back. I took the moment to openly look her over, the puckered pink and red scar marring her face and neck, the soft freckles sprayed across her skin. Her eyes were an intense blue, and I knew she was searching for something in my own, but I didnât understand quite what.
âOh, itâs not a problem. Erin just moved on to her next home and we have the bed open. A little sooner than we thought, but not too much trouble at all, is it Lari?â
I felt the force of her name from my throat to my toes like lightning, bristling through my veins and electrifying my fingertips. Had I forgotten that scars are sometimes new?
Evelyn paused and looked at the girl, really looked at her for a moment, then back at me. âWell, I really must get going Mrs. Allen, Iâm leaving the paperwork with you and if you could just come drop it off when you get a chance it would be much appreciated.â
They continued in that vein for a few more minutes while Lari and I stared at each other appraisingly. She no longer looked quite so angry, instead her eyes took on the look of the lost little girl I remembered. I felt my heart beating in my chest so hard I heard nothing else but that staccato rhythm.
âCharlotte?â Evelynâs voice jarred me back to the present. âWalk me out?â I scrunched my face up in confusion but did as she asked, still thrown by the fact that Lari was here, right here with me.
When we got to the door Evelynâs eyes darted quickly to make sure we were alone, then she put her hands in a comforting grip on my shoulder. âCharlotte, Iâm sorry. I didnât realize that this Lauren was Lari, from back then.â
âWhat do you mean?â I asked in surprise. She was saying this like it was a bad thing, something I wouldnât want to happen.
âI didnât case the other occupants the way I usually do, so this is my fault completely. But you need to realize that things change, and people arenât always who we remember them to be.â
Her hands suddenly felt less pleasant and more like a trap, nails digging into my shoulders. I shifted uncomfortably. âI donât think I understand.â
She stared searchingly into my eyes, then released my arm to touch my face. âI just donât want you to get hurt Charlotte. Lari has been through a lot since you two were last glued together at the hip.â
âI mean, thatâs a little obvious,â I said, even more confused. Lari had a giant burn twisting her flesh, did Evelyn think that was something I could possibly overlook? I didnât expect for us to fall into our old ways, we werenât little kids anymore.
Evelyn ran a hand through her short hair and sighed, something I seemed to cause her to do a lot. âI just worry about you is all.â She gave me a hug and I stiffened slightly, we werenât usually the touchy type. After a few seconds I reached out tentatively to return the embrace. Even if I couldnât find words for it I knew that Evelyn had been going above and beyond for me since weâd first met eight years ago, and that she had fought to keep me as one of her charges, as difficult as I could be.
She patted me on the shoulder one last time and then left, so that I had to turn and face my new home.
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Footsteps approached the room that Denni had shown me to, and I knew that in a moment I would no longer be alone. It was a bunk bed after all, that meant Lari and I were sharing. Evelynâs warnings rang heavy in my mind, and I wondered what this new Lari would be like, this girl with freckles and scars.
âCharlotte Bhatti,â she said as she entered the room, looking me over slowly as if assessing the me who I was now and comparing it to the me I was back then, just as I was to her.
âLari Kent.â I gave her a half-smile. She didnât return it.
âI like your hair.â It was deadpan. No twinge of a smile or twinkle in her eye. She was as stoic and unmoved as a statue.
My hand found itself buried in the short mop self-consciously. âFelt it was time for a change.â
The burn on her skin was an angry red, mashing up flesh like tight strips of tissue paper, and I wanted to reach out to touch it. I wanted to feel the pain she had from however she had received it.
âIt suits you.â
There was an awkward silence because the most obvious difference about Lari, her scar, wasnât something I could comment on. I could hardly say it suited her, even if this icy new demeanor brought that thought to the forefront of my mind.
âWas Mrs. Allen cooking dinner?â I asked, attempting to forward the conversation into something more amiable.
âYou mean burning it?â
âWell yeah, I guess.â
âSheâs a mediocre cook at best, weâll probably just order pizza. A waste of our allowance if you ask me.â
âAllowance?â
âYou know, the money they get for holding us hostage.â
One of the perks of foster care for the foster parents was the monthly stipend they were given so that they could afford us. It usually amounted to about a dollar an hour, or twenty five dollars a day. It might not seem like much, but for a lot of foster parents that was the reason they signed up for this.
Some parents would collect three or four children, and you could bet that extra hundred dollars a day didnât go to the kids. Finding a foster parent that actually used the money to buy the kids clothing wasnât something you often found. Thatâs why I ended up with one bag of ill fitted shirts and pants. Most of them were hand-me-downs.
I shrugged. âTheyâre the ones getting paid. They can figure out what to do with that.â
Lari gaped at me incredulously. âSeriously? You donât care that we get treated like second class kids?â
I shrugged again noncommittally. âAs long as they donât use it to buy drugs or liquor, then I guess Iâm okay with a roof and some food.â At the Morrisonâs it actually hadnât been so bad. Theyâd had five kids of their own, so I was definitely the outlier.
The chores were excessive but they churned out food, so it didnât matter quite so much how exhausted I was at the end of each day. It had felt like Iâd accomplished something. That might have been one of the better homes Iâd stayed at over the years if they hadnât pushed all the chores onto my shoulders by the end.
âYouâre not really gonna go far in life with that kind of attitude, are you?â
Iâll admit, that comment hurt. âIâm just used to it, you know?â
âYeah I know, there are a lot of things Iâm used to.â She crossed her arms. âThat doesnât mean Iâm willing to let people take advantage of me.â
âIâm not letting people take advantage of me,â I protested angrily. My hands curled into fists at my side. âWhy do you think Iâm here like this and everythingâs so unprepared? âCause I left my last home when I knew they didnât care either way!â
âSure, little Charlotte with her one bag of clothes, and ugly haircut,â she said contemptuously. âSuch a rebel.â
âWhy are you being like this?â
âLike what?â There was a dare in her question.
I knew I shouldnât fall for it, she was trying to rile me up, but it was working and I was never one able to bite my tongue. âLike such a bitch!â
Lari seemed satisfied at the answer. âIs that it?â
âWhat else do you want me to say? That I havenât seen you for eight years and youâre treating me like crap? That you think that scar on your face gives you a right to judge everyone before they can judge you?â She stepped back like Iâd slapped her, then narrowed her eyes.
âI guess thatâs something you could say,â she said coldly, and stepped out of the room. I stared after her wordlessly, the anger in me deflating like a balloon that had been released. Evelyn had been right, Lari wasnât who sheâd used to be, and I guess neither was I.
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Comments
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I looked at her to nod, and saw the girl behind her stiffen suddenly. I tilted my head at her quizzically and she stared back. I took the moment to openly look her over, the puckered pink and red scar marring her face and neck, the soft freckles sprayed across her skin. Her eyes were an intense blue, and I knew she was searching for something in my own, but I didnât understand quite what.
Your writing is so descriptive and in the details. Great work Kiersten! -
I agree with Tomas, your writing is so descriptive and I love the imagery. Great installment, I am intrigued as to where the story is going.
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super descriptive, almost.. too much? I kept stumbling over the descriptions and it pulled me out of the story a bit. Otherwise, very good!
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Great first chapter! Very well-written!