Sierra
As I pay for the eggs, my hands shake. I grip the reusable plastic bag the cashier gives me tightly in my fist, and I rush outside. As the automatic doors open, the cold wind of the night air pricks at my skin, but it's refreshing. Like it's cleansing the dirty feeling from that encounter.
I'm mad. I'm so mad. He seemed so nice, and I was so glad to meet someone friendly here so soon, and then, of course, OF COURSE, he ended up being just another sleazeball, gross little boy. I could almost smack myself for thinking he'd be any different from just about every other guy I'd ever met.
The streetlights are on, giving some relief from the dark, but the moon's glow also lights the street. I rush home quickly, though, before it gets any darker; my anger spurring me on.
I'm still angry as I open the front door to the house I'm staying in. I take some deep breaths before I continue inside. I don't want anyone to see that I'm shaken. They might think I'm overreacting, or they might worry and overreact themselves.
"Is that you, Sierra?"Lucy calls out, probably from the kitchen.
I walk the few steps it takes from the front door into the kitchen and take a look at the woman talking to me. She's standing at the bench, cutting up some vegetables. Her long brown hair is tied up in a knot on top of her head, out of the way as she prepares dinner.
"It's me," I tell her, giving her a small smile. She returns the smile warmly, pleased as I expected.
"Thank you for that! You know I would have been happy to pick it up," Lucy says. I know she would have.
Lucy puts down her knife and takes the eggs from me. After she puts them away into the fridge, she places her hands on the kitchen bench and leans forward. She presses her lips together as if she's choosing her words.
"You know..." Lucy begins slowly, carefully, "You don't have to earn your keep. Not here. Not with us,"
I don't say anything. I'm not sure what to say. I'm used to being told the opposite. Most foster homes I've been to expect me to prove myself to them like I need to show how grateful I am that they're giving me a chance. I've never been told this before.
"Obviously, we still expect you to be respectful and considerate. Keep your room tidy, and help out with some jobs. But that's your responsibility as part of the family, not as someone trying to prove they should be allowed to stay here. We aren't going to call your worker over you not doing enough around the house," Lucy continues.
She's looking right at me now, and my eyes are prickling with the tears forming. I wipe my face and look away.
"I was just doing something nice," I say, brushing off what she's saying.
Lucy comes around the counter and leans her back on it. Like she's coming closer, so there's no barrier between us, but she is still giving me some space.
"I used to do it, too," Lucy says.
I look up at her, knitting my eyebrows together in confusion. Do what?
"Trying to earn my place. When I was a foster kid, I mean. I'd prove myself to my new foster parents so they would want to keep me," She explains.
"You were a foster kid?" I ask her. My case worker didn't tell me that.
Lucy crosses her arms in front of her and nods. Her eyes glaze over a little as she gets lost in memories for a moment.
"Yeah. Until I was about sixteen, like you. Then I met Aunt Margaret - that's what she liked to be called. She didn't adopt me, it's a long process and all that, but she kept me. She didn't kick me out when I aged out, even though she didn't get the money for me anymore," She tells me.
My breathing gets faster and shallower. I feel uncomfortable. I'm not used to this. I'm not used to people trying to relate to me. I don't understand her angle. Is she trying to pay it forward?
"And what? You're trying to recreate history or something?" I accuse her. It sounds harsher than I intended, but I don't like the idea of being a tool for someone's self-esteem boost or recreation of good memories. I'm a real person.
Lucy shakes her head.
"We had all ages on our form, Sierra. You being sixteen is just a coincidence,"
I shake my head, still lost.
"I just want you to know that we aren't in this to try and find the perfect kid. We aren't in this because we couldn't have kids any other way or because we need the money. We're in this because we knew that there would be someone out there that needed us. So no, you don't need to prove yourself because this is unconditional. I want you to feel safe here; I want you to feel secure. Because I know, trust me - I know, that's what you need more than anything when you grow up in foster care. Security," Lucy tells me this confidently, with such conviction that I can't help but begin to believe her.
I can feel my wall being chipped away slightly, and it scares me. While I'm grateful that I didn't get lumped with another foster family that just used me for their benefit, It's almost worse when the family makes you believe you're wanted, only to ask your worker to move you on when you get too much for them.
My throat burns as I swallow the sobs, trying to escape. I don't want to cry in front of her. I don't want to seem too emotional already.
"Thank you," I tell her, cursing the huskiness in my voice.
"We read your file, Sierra. We know what we're in for and are prepared for it. We don't expect this to be some rosy, American, evangelical, family daytime movie special. We will do what it takes, even when it's messy. We're not giving up on you," She tells me. Looking into my eyes and talking slowly to make sure I'm taking on board everything she is saying.
It's too much for me. I feel myself wanting to believe it. Wanting to accept it, rush forward, hug her, and call her mum. But I can't. Real life doesn't work like that, and if I fall for it, it will hurt so much more when they don't want me anymore.
I give her a slight nod, turn around and walk out the front door, trying to get out of there before I completely break down in front of her.
Outside, I lean against the front door, closing my eyes and trying to get my breathing under control. I breathe In through my nose, and the cold air travels into my lungs. I can smell the Dahlias that Alexa, I think, planted out the front.
My breath starts to even out with each long, shaky breath I let out. I hear a car pulling up. It's probably Alexa coming home from work.
When I open my eyes, I see no car in our driveway. Instead, I see a small red one in the driveway next door. The music in the car is loud; I know this because I can hear it from where I am by the front door, and I can swear I can almost feel the vibrations from the bass. I can't make out the music exactly, but it sounds like heavy metal or something.
In the front seat of the car is a boy with dark hair. It's kind of long, but it's styled neatly. He doesn't notice me at all as I stare at him.
The boy is gripping the steering wheel of his car tightly. His face is contorted in what looks like anger. It's in the way his eyebrows are furrowed together, his mouth in a tight line as his lips press into themselves, his jaw tensed and flexing, and his face is red.
Suddenly, he hits his steering wheel with his fist, making me jump. Then, he hits it again. Then, again and again, now with both fists, really letting the steering wheel have it. I almost can't hear it over the music coming from his car, but he's screaming too. It scares me, but I can't look away.
I wonder why he's so angry. I wonder if he loses control like this often or if this is new. The way his hair looks gives me the indication that he has it all together, but evidently, he doesn't. He's hurt by something. Maybe he's even damaged. Like me.
I can't tear my eyes away as he continues to assault his car. I'm not sure if he's running out of steam or is calming down, but he's slowing down now. As he stops, his chest moves up and down. He's breathing heavily. He slowly lifts his head, and that's when he sees me.
I freeze. Even holding my breath as if breathing could alert him to my presence more somehow. He doesn't move, either. He just continues to stare at me. We stay like that for a while. Our eyes locked, no expressions giving away our thoughts, not a single movement from either of us.
We've been staring at each other for so long that judging from the movements of his chest, even our breathing is in sync. What is he thinking? Is he mad at me for watching him?
Just as I start to wonder what my next move should be, another car pulls up. This time it is Alexa coming home from work.
I turn to watch her coming out of the car. She rushes up to me, and I think she wants to hug me but is holding herself back. I wonder if Lucy gave her this advice. Everything I know about them seems different now that I know that Lucy was a foster kid like me. Maybe this place will be better than the others.
"I'm so sorry that I had to go back to work today; I really wanted to stay and help you get settled in," She says quickly.
I shake my head and give her a smile.
"It's fine! There's not much to it, really. I just put my bag in my room, and I'm done," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
Alexa chuckles a little and opens the door, inviting me inside. I take one last look over at the neighbour's car, but the boy I saw before isn't there anymore. I have this weird feeling. Disappointment.
_____________________
At dinner, I pick at my food slowly. I can feel Alexa and Lucy's eyes watching me as I move my food around the plate, and I make the effort to eat a little more. I look up, and they try to seem more casual, but I know they're keeping an eye on me.
"So, how was your day?" I ask them, trying to get the attention off of my food and shake up the awkwardness in the room.
Alexa smiles. Actually, she beams. I can guess she's loving that we're already acting like a happy little family. She has the naivety of first-time foster carers that I hate. The better they think it will go, the more upset they get when things aren't as expected.
"Well..." Alexa starts, almost bouncing from the excitement of doing something so mundane, "I was upset that I got called back into work, but work wasn't too difficult, and I'm glad I got to come back and have dinner with you two,"
Alexa smiles as she looks back and forth between us. She looks so... grateful. She doesn't even know me well enough to know if she likes me yet. Still, at least she's making an effort.
"What do you do for work?" I ask her politely.
As she smiles, ready to tell me about herself, I sneak a glance at Lucy. She's staring at Alexa with a smile on her face. She really seems to be enjoying how happy Alexa is, and my heart softens a little at the love I see between them.
Alexa tells me about her work. She's a lawyer and works with kids in the justice system. It's nice, but I can't help the brief thought that these two really have a saviour complex.
When Alexa asks me about my day, I involuntarily freeze. She notices and presses me further.
"What is it?" She asks me, her voice caring and... Nurturing.
I swallow. Lucy is looking at me intently now, wondering what's going on. I wasn't going to tell them. Now that time has passed, it seems pretty silly, but they've noticed something is up now.
"This guy hit on me at the shops," I tell them, "He seemed nice at first, and then said this dumb pick-up line, and it just made me feel so... so..."
"Objectified," Alexa finishes for me.
I shrug, not sure what word I was looking for. I guess that works, though.
"It's like I went from another human he was talking to, to something he could use. I felt so gross," I say.
I look up at Alexa now, and she's looking at me with understanding. Like, she gets it.
"I'm sorry that happened, Sierra. I had no idea," Lucy says.
I look over at her, and she seems upset for me. Maybe I wasn't overreacting.
After dinner, I have a shower. When I'm done, I walk into my new room and glance around, noticing how neutral and nearly naked it is. My new carers haven't decorated it according to what they assumed a teenage girl would like; they left it empty, so I could make it my own. They told me they'll take me shopping to buy decorations for it, so I know they didn't leave it empty to make it easier to move me on for when this doesn't work out, but I can't help that thought niggling at the back of my mind anyways.
I sit down on my bed and breathe in and out deeply. It's been such a weird day. I can't say that I've had the first day with a new family go quite like this before.
The sound of Take That's Everything Changes plays through my room as my phone begins to ring, and I walk over to my drawers, where I left it while I showered. When I look at who's calling, it says Jack. I smile as I swipe across the phone to answer it.
"Hey Jack, what are you up to?" I ask him as I answer.
"Just checking in to see how my favourite sister is going," He replies.
Jack is my foster brother from three families ago. We've both moved families since then, but we remained close. No one else seems to get me the way that he does, and even the parts he doesn't get, he accepts without judgement. He's the one that reminds me I'm not completely alone in this world. He's the one that reminds me- family is about more than just the DNA you share.
"The family is nice, one used to be a foster kid, and the other one is way too excited to have me. I ran over to the shop as a favour and met a guy who I thought was nice but ended up being sleazy, and the neighbour's kid MIGHT be a psychopath. I'm not sure," I ramble off the events of the day to him.
"Oh wow, so pretty boring then?" He chuckles as he answers me.
I laugh at his answer. I lay back on the dark grey doona on my bed and look outside my window as I listen to Jack tell me about how his foster family is going. He's been with this one for 8 months now, and he's feeling pretty good about it.
Across the yard, outside my window, I notice that my window faces someone else's. The light is on, but I can't see any movement. That's the house the boy in the car was at.
I wonder if that is his room. I wonder what he might be doing in there. I wonder if he's still angry. I wonder if he's thinking about me and if he's mad that I was watching him earlier.
"Sierra?" Jack says through the phone, making me realise I'd stopped listening to him.
"Sorry, I was thinking about my neighbour," I tell him, still looking at the window across from mine.
"The psychopath?" He asks.
I laugh but feel a bit guilty for calling him that.
"He might not be. I just saw him having some anger fit in his car. Something bad could have happened for all I know. It was just a bit scary," I say.
Jack hums, and I know he's already coming to conclusions inside his head.
"What?" I ask, wanting him to tell me already.
"Nothing! It's just... I can hear it in your voice," He tells me finally.
"Hear what?" I ask him.
"You're intrigued by him," Jack answers.
"I just told you he scared me," I say to Jack, shaking my head.
"Exactly, Sierra," He says.
I bite my lip as I look out my window over to the other one that might belong to the boy I saw today.
He might have a point.
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