Sam
I walk down the hallway, noticing how dark it is as my bare feet gently sink into the plush carpet, getting closer and closer to the dining room, where I hear the squeals and screams become louder and higher pitched with each step.
I stick my finger in my ear and rub at the sore point. I'm sure that the women in my house have permanently damaged my eardrums over the years. Seriously, how do their voices even get that high?
As soon as I walk through the archway into the dining room, I am ambushed by more squeals and space-invading hugs. Once I am free from the affectionate attack, I rub my eyes and take in the sight.
My neighbours Alexa and Lucy are here, screaming over something with my Mum. Mum and Alexa both have makeup running down their faces from tears. It looks strange in contrast to their business attire. Lucy grins from ear to ear - probably the biggest smile I've seen on her.
"What the heck is up with you guys?" I say with a croaky voice, my throat still adjusting to being awake.
Alexa grabs me tightly again and shouts in my face excitedly.
"We've been approved for foster care! They're dropping her off today!" She shouts excitedly, her voice reaching pitches that I'm sure would break a glass if we had any actual crystal in here.
Once the news has been processed through my only half-functioning, sleepy brain, I hug Alexa back and congratulate her and Lucy.
"What is going on in here?" My older brother Daniel says, entering the slightly crowded room.
I look over at him and see he's already dressed for school, his dark hair perfectly styled to the side on top of his head.
Lucy announces the news to Daniel this time; her voice is not as shrill as the other women's but just as loud.
"We're getting a foster daughter today." She beams. Her body shakes with so much nervous excitement that the top knot that sits on her head is perpetually wobbling like a fresh souffle.
"Congratulations! I know you've been waiting for this for ages," Daniel tells her, flashing his signature charming smile, all teeth and dazzle.
His smile often gets compared to a politicians, though I suspect his smile has more sincerity than most of the politicians in our parliament. My smile, on the other hand, gets compared to a car salesman, charming, but as though I'm getting something from the transaction. Though, I guess that's not always entirely wrong.
Helen stumbles into the dining room now, barely awake. Her hair is the lightest of us all, with mine being just a shade or two lighter than Daniels. Helens is a golden mousy brown colour, long and straight, sitting just above her waist. She only gets it cut for split ends, not because she exactly wants to be a modern-day rapunzel, but because she cannot be bothered thinking of a hairstyle.
"Helen, you have 15 minutes until you're meant to leave! why aren't you dressed?" Mum exclaims in a sharp tone, worried about Helen being late.
"Takes me only 5 minutes to get dressed," Helen shrugs, leaving the room in her hand-me-down pyjamas that she's had for the last few years.
"Is there any breakfast?" I ask Mum as I take the orange hoodie off of the back of a dining chair and pull it over my head.
My Mum pushes her short black hair behind her ears and tilts her head, giving me a look.
"Not unless you prepared something, Sam, no. I have to go to work to pay for things like breakfast. So, I don't have time to cook it for you, too," She explains with humour but a hint of exasperation.
Lucy and Alexa take this moment of morning chaos to slowly back out of the kitchen door. Mum stares at my jumper, seemingly just noticing that I've put it on.
"Can't you put a clean one on? I know I've put clean ones in your cupboard recently," Mum says.
I grab part of my hoodie and lift it up to my nose. Giving it a good whiff. The only smell I can detect on it is my deodorant and maybe a little grass from sitting on the oval at school. I look down, scanning for stains, then look back at Mum and give her a shrug.
"Smells fine to me," I tell her.
Mum closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath. When she opens them again, she looks at me.
"Fine, wear whatever. Just hurry up, or you'll be late," She tells me, deciding this is not worth a battle.
Daniel walks over to Mum and rests a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Standing next to her, you can see he is just slightly taller than her. He's only just over 2 years older than me, but has a good 20 or so centimetres on me easily, making me look like his kid brother.
"It's alright, Mum, I'll drive them today," Daniel tells her, flashing his politician's smile again.
She smiles gratefully at him as Helen rushes back into the room again, a minty smell enveloping her from her freshly brushed teeth. Her clothes are on now, and she's tying her hair up into a ponytail.
"You're driving us!?" Helen asks loudly, excited.
Daniel never drives us, usually. He thinks not driving us will motivate us to get our learners. Helen and I are both meant to be doing that this year, but neither of us has studied the book yet. I have an excuse since I only just turned sixteen, but Helen turned sixteen ten months ago. She's just lazy.
"If you hurry up!" Daniel says, laughing at Helen rushing about the place, looking for her shoes. Her socks are, of course, odd. One grey and one blue - I'm pretty sure the blue one is mine.
"Can we stop for breakfast, pleaseeeeee," I beg Daniel.
He sighs but easily gives in.
"Get Helen in the car in two minutes, and we'll drive through Maccas on the way," Daniel says.
Thinking about which McMuffin I will order, I give him my own grin, like I just managed to sell a rusted lemon of a car to a professional racecar driver, and run to the bathroom where I saw Helen's shoes last.
Approximately one minute and 58 seconds later, Helen and I are strapped in the back of the car. Daniel only makes us sit in the back of the car if both of us are riding with him to prevent arguments about who sits in front. I know he learned this tactic from Mum as we were growing up.
Helen and I are born close together. Her birthday is in July, and mine is in May, so for two months of the year, we are the same age (although Helen is always quick to remind people she's older).
This was confusing growing up, especially because we have always been in the same grade at school. Our teachers would call us Irish twins, and for a long time, we thought that meant we were actually twins. We would do everything together, even trying to dress the same. Mum would encourage us to be individuals, but I think we liked having a connection with each other.
As a result of being so close in age, we get pretty competitive and can argue about things a lot, but she's the closest thing to a real twin I've got, and we always have each other's backs. We even share the same friend group.
When we get to school, Daniel says bye to us and rushes off to meet his friends. Even though he's only one year older than Helen, we aren't as close to him. Sometimes it feels like he'd rather be the cool older brother than our friend.
Helen and I walk over to the large sports oval to meet our friends before the first bell.
We walk across the oval, crunching the fallen brown leaves as we tread, and spot the familiar gum tree we always sit under, its tall grey branches twisting as they reach for the sky. Underneath the tree is Mouse. Her thick curly hair is tied up in a bun, but there are still loose strands flying everywhere in her face as she writes furiously in her notebook.
"Damn, what are you writing?" Helen asks Mouse as we get closer, swinging her bag onto the ground as she plops down on the grass.
Mouse looks up, stares directly into Helen's eyes, and shakes her head.
"Okay, fine. Sorry I asked," Helen says, realising it's better to back off.
I look around the oval, noticing Mouse's usual partner in crime isn't around.
"Where's Noelle?" I ask her.
Mouse flips through her notebook, looking for a blank page. When she finds one, she writes on it and lifts it up to show me.
Library. Assignment due TODAY. Her note reads.
This is one of three ways Mouse talks to us. The other two are in the group chat and in private messages.
Mouse (otherwise known as Mia) has selective mutism. That's where her nickname comes from. (Quiet as a mouse? Get it? Yeah, it's kind of on the nose, but it suits her, and she tells us she likes it.) She technically can talk, but it's terrifying for her. It comes from pretty bad social anxiety. From how she's explained it to me, she just gets so scared of messing up what she says and how she'll sound that she can't get her throat to work properly; it's like it gives up and shuts down. Even though it's called "selective" mutism, she doesn't get to select when it works and when it doesn't.
She used to talk when she was younger, then slowly began to stop. Since then, she has said a few words to me over the years but usually opts for written ones. I've learned not to make a big deal about it if she speaks; too much pressure adds to the anxiety.
"Maths assignment?" I ask Mouse.
She gives me a solemn nod. I figured. Noelle has always hated maths with a passion. Most kids I know hate maths, but she hates math in a way that you'd be sure that it had killed her great ancestors, and it's up to her to take vengeance against it to find peace for her family.
She hates it so much that she's forced to do it quickly before school, even though it's taking her away from Mouse's side. Noelle never leaves Mouse if she can help it; she is extremely protective of her.
I sit down next to Mouse and try to peek at her notebook, but she strategically hides it from my view. I wonder what she was writing so intently before?
"We're getting a new neighbour today," Helen says, breaking the silence and my thoughts to make conversation.
Mouse looks up from her notebook and gives Helen a confused look, encouraging Helen to elaborate. I guess that's the fourth way Mouse communicates, facial expressions. But, you've got to really know her to be able to pull off a conversation that way with her. Luckily we've all known each other since we were little kids.
"Our neighbours, Alexa and Lucy? They're getting a foster daughter," Helen explains.
I shift in the grass, a little uncomfortable. Alexa and Lucy are more than just our neighbours. They're practically family. They've babysat us our whole lives, helping Mum out when dad left.
Mouse holds up a page from her book.
How old is she?
"We don't know yet," I answer. Alexa and Lucy didn't get to tell us all that much during all of the excitement this morning.
"I hope she's little so I can babysit her, and we can watch Strawberry Shortcake together," Helen says with a smile.
I laugh at Helen's face. It looks like she's imagining Strawberry Shortcake now. I wouldn't mind having a kid around too. Our family is small, and it feels like everyone we know has grown up. Little kids are fun. They distract us from how harsh life can be.
The bell rings, and Mouse and Helen leave together, having the same science class. I make my way to the English block and lean against the brick wall outside of my classroom. I reach into my cluttered bag, eager to get backing into my latest book.
Just as the book starts drawing me into its world, I'm interrupted.
"Doing anything later, Sam?" A sweet voice says to me.
I lower my book and see Samantha standing in front of me. She has honey-blonde hair and faint freckles across her whole body, but they're harder to see under the makeup on her face that she uses to hide them. I like her freckles, and I tell her that, but that doesn't stop her from disliking them.
"Probably going to Rush. What about you?" I ask her with a sideways smile, knowing exactly why she's asking.
Sam and I kind of mess around sometimes (yeah, she's called Sam too. I don't know, talk to Freud about it). It's not serious. She sees other people, and I do too. It's just easiest with her. I don't have to try to be more.
"I have bass practice, but maybe we can hang out later?" She asks me, chewing her bottom lip while she waits for an answer.
"Text me," I answer her, lifting my head to see the girl coming in behind her.
A girl with long dyed silver hair and a thick fringe rushes up to us, holding folders and textbooks in her arms in front of her long-sleeved, white buttoned-up shirt and a frantic look on her face.
"Oh my GOD. Thank goodness Mr Teerie isn't here yet. Quick, Sam, help me put my stuff in my bag," She rattles off quickly.
She turns around to present her backpack to me, then turns around again, realising she's still holding her books. She shoves her things into my arms, causing me to drop my book, and then turns around again.
"My page!" I whine as I put everything in her backpack for her.
"You'll live. You've probably read it before anyways," She says.
I have, but only once, so that is so far beyond the point.
"Hey, Noelle," Samantha says to her awkwardly.
She always acts weird around my friends. I don't know if it's because they're girls or because they're my friends, and she doesn't know what I tell them (which isn't a lot), but she gets awkward and shy.
"Hey, Sam! When is the next school orchestra playing? I wanted to see you on the bass again," Noelle asks her sweetly. Noelle is kind to everyone, but for some reason, it puts Samantha off more.
"In a couple of weeks. Um... You don't... You don't have to do that. You probably have something better to do," Samantha mumbles.
"What? No! I think you're great! I love hearing you play," Noelle exclaims, causing Sam's cheeks to go red.
I zip up Noelle's bag and lean down to pick up my book again. I leaf through the pages looking for where I was up to.
"So, what are you reading?" Noelle asks me.
"Needful Things, Stephen King," I tell her, showing her the front cover.
"That's a bit dark for you, isn't it?" She says, raising an eyebrow.
"I've read scary books before, including Stephen King ones," I say, defending myself.
"I'm going to go talk to Hayley and see how she is," Samantha pipes up, pointing behind her with her thumb. I guess she was starting to feel left out of the conversation, but most people do when Noelle and I talk about this stuff.
At the mention of Hayley's name, Noelle's shoulders drop. Noelle has two issues with Hayley - one is that she's convinced Hayley hates her, and the second is she is convinced of that because of the fact that she is obsessed with Hayley's boyfriend, Aaron. I don't think Hayley even notices the way Noelle drools over him, though.
"So, what movie did you watch last night?" I ask Noelle, distracting her from Hayley.
Noelle looks back at me and smiles as if she just got given a Freddo. Grateful and excited.
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