They say that home is where the heart is. I don’t buy that
shit. I’ve been moved around so many
times during the past thirteen years, I don’t know where to set my heart down.
I’ve seen shit that you wouldn’t believe.
I’ve seen shit you would rather pretend didn’t exist.
I’ve seen foster parents take the money they were supposed
to spend on my school supplies and buy designer jeans for their children. I’ve watched the rain track tears down the moldy
attic walls of my bedroom. I’ve washed
dirty diapers; scrubbed vomit from the carpet; wiped the snot from the noses of
babies.
But in this particular foster home, I’ve got a decent enough
gig. They expect me to get their
daughter
Cassidy off to school. But
other than that, they leave me alone.
They like me.
I’m not foolish enough to hope for love.
Cassidy and I head outside.
One street down, a thick blue hose crosses the sidewalk and runs into the
storm drain. “Hey,” Cassidy says
pointing her finger at the man picking up his newspaper. She’s a bossy thing. “You’re not supposed to run pool water into
the storm drain.”
“Why not?” He frowns
over his reading glasses.
“It’s dangerous. You
got all kinds of stuff mixed up in that water.”
The man eyed me. “Seems
to me you need to be thinking about what you’re mixing up in your house.”
“What do you mean?”
Cassidy said, scratching her leg with the tip of her patent leather
shoe.
“Come on, Cass.” I
grab her hand and lead her away. I drop her
off at school; make sure she gets inside.
But I don’t bother heading to the high school: Pretty
neighborhood don’t care much for poor kids, that much is clear. It’s time to move on. Time to make my way out into the world and
find a place to settle my heart.
The thing is, I thought this was the place.
I thought I was home.
Labels: fiction Trifecta Writing Challenge