I am a Foster Child Ch. 4-5

Chapter 4: School
         The next morning I woke up to Mr. Davis knocking on my door and telling me I was going to be late for school. I rolled over and yelled incoherently at him. A moment later he opened my door and turned on my light. I groaned and threw a pillow in his general direction. He came over to my bed and pulled my sheets off me and left without another word. I finally stood up and looked around groggily. The bags from my shopping spree yesterday were scattered across the floor, so I grabbed a pair of jeans that were falling out of one of the bags. They were dark blue and I decided to pair them with a black, three-quarter sleeve t-shirt in a bag on the other side of my bed. Those, with a pair of silver flats and a gray baseball cap with black stitching in the shape of an American flag actually looked pretty good. I had found a brush in one of my dresser drawers, so I dragged it through my hair a few times, and, when I was satisfied, I went downstairs. I grabbed a biscuit and a piece of bacon from the kitchen table and took my backpack from a hook next to the basement door. When Mr. Davis glared at me, I sat down reluctantly and ate my breakfast as quickly as I could. When I was done, I stood up and crossed the room.
         “Sasha, where are you going?” Mrs. Davis asked, looking up from her newspaper.
         “To school,” I said.
         “But you don't know where your new school is,” Mr. Davis said.
         I stopped, my hand on the doorknob to the basement. “Where is it?” I asked, clenching my teeth.
         “You'll find out when I drive you there,” Mrs. Davis said. “Right after I drop Alexis and Margo off at their elementary school.
         “Just tell me where it is,” I said. “And I'll board there myself,”
         “Oh, no, Sasha,” Mr. Davis said. “You're not going to be doing that anymore,” He looked up from his coffee and I stared at him, not believing him. He continued, “It's far too dangerous. What if you fell and hurt yourself and no one was around? And from now on, when you do skateboard, you're going to be wearing a helmet. When you fall and crack your head open because you're not wearing one, I don't want to feel guilty,” He took a bite of eggs, and I stared at him, incredulous.
         “When?” I said. “When I fall and crack my head open? I've been boarding since I was Margo's age, and I've never fallen once. Not even when I was learning to do Ollies or powerslides! I've never fallen off! And I've never used a helmet! And if you're worried about something happening to me, give me a cell phone!”
         “Now, Sasha,” He said calmly. “I thought about that, but the way you've been behaving, I don't think I can trust you with one. And I seriously doubt that you've never fallen off your skateboard.”
         I stared at him for a moment, then snorted. “You 'seriously doubt' that? I've competed in national competitions, and all the judges at my audition agreed that I didn't need to wear a helmet, and now you're telling me that I'll fall and hurt myself if I don't? I learned to do Broken Fingers perfectly at age nine!”
         “See,” He said. “You just admitted that you've broken your fingers before,”
         “What?” I said. “No I didn't! Broken Fingers is a trick!” He brow furrowed, and he took a sip of coffee. “I can do Spacewalks, TV Stands, Impossibles, and every other trick in the book on solid concrete with perfect confidence, and you're telling me I can't board to school because its too dangerous?” I yelled.
         “Young lady, don't raise your voice to me. I may not be your father, but-”
         “You got that right!” I screamed. “My dad is supportive of my boarding! He has confidence in my abilities!” Margo started to whimper, but no one but me seemed to notice.
         Mr. Davis stood up and all of a sudden seemed a lot more intimidating than before. “If you ever talk to me like that again then you will not be 'boarding' again until the New Year!”
         For a moment I was stunned and didn't reply, so he took the opportunity to keep talking.                    “Obviously your father was far to lenient with you, Sasha. You have absolutely no respect for anyone and do not respect any of the rules of my house-”
         “You,” I whispered quietly. “Can not tell me I can't board anymore.” I was glaring at him so hard I was starting to get a headache. “And you can not tell me what my father did wrong.” Then I thought about it for a moment and laughed. “Do you think I acted this way with him? I respected him because he was my father and I loved him. But you . . .” I laughed again. “What happened to 'We all have to be supportive and understanding no matter what happens,'? That's what you told the rest of this freak show when you were having your little pity party for me, wasn't it?”
         Now he and the rest of the Davis's were the ones that were stunned, and I took my chance to leave the room. I pulled the front door open violently, jarring my arm, but I ignored the pain. The Davis's were rousing themselves out of their shock, so I started running as soon as I got off the porch. I could hear them behind me, yelling at me, but I was faster and in better shape, soon left them far behind. I knew that they would go for their car soon, so at the first opportunity I veered down a dirt side road and into the woods. I stayed near the edge so I wouldn't lose my bearings, and, as I predicted, both cars soon pulled out of their driveway.
         I snuck quietly out of the woods behind their house and ran to the small door next to the garage doors. Glancing around, I tried the door. Thankfully, in their rush they had left it unlocked. I left my skateboard in the garage for the moment, and ran upstairs. I was confident that they had taken Alexis and Margo with them so they could drop them off at school, but I still breathed a sigh of relief when I found the kitchen empty.
         I ran upstairs and entered my room, ignoring Sandy whining at my heels. I took my backpack from its spot next to my bed, my skull cap, Keds, and, after a moment of indecision, a dark blue rain coat that I had bought yesterday. If I was going to run away, I wanted to stay warm and dry when it rained. I returned to the garage after a short battle with Sandy to make him stay upstairs. I took my skateboard and left the garage, closing the door behind me. I looked around, and absolutely panicked. Mrs. Davis's minivan was coming back up the road, and I had nowhere to hide. There was no where to hide in the garage, at least not any where that I could find fast enough, and she would definitely catch me if I went for the woods again. There was a small space under the steps that led to the back patio, so, in desperation, I wedged myself inside it, draping the raincoat over me to hide myself. She drove up and opened the garage door and I shifted to a slightly more comfortable position. Instantly, her head snapped over to my hiding place. She got out of the car and walked over tentatively, then seemed to recognize the raincoat.
         “Sasha!” She cried. The anger in my chest clogged my throat, stopping me from speaking, and I didn't reply. Instead I glared at her. She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the small hiding space and looked at me. “Sasha, I . . .” She hesitated, then continued. “I don't know what you're going through. My family was very happy, but I can try to understand. I talked to Mr. Davis and we both agreed that we need to be more supportive, but we do hope that nothing like this happens again.” When I continued to glare at her, she sighed, and continued. “We understand how much you love skateboarding, and we've decided to allow you to continue to not wear a helmet, but we still don't want you skating on the highway to school. Those are the rules, and I think they're pretty reasonable. Do you agree?”
         I glared at her for a moment more, then muttered, “Whatever,” She sighed, and gestured toward the car.
         “You still have to go to school today, Sasha,” I pushed past her without a word and climbed into the car. I threw my rain coat in the back and placed my skateboard behind the passenger seat. Mrs. Davis climbed in as well, and on the highway called Mr. Davis, and told him that she found me. She related to him the whole short tale, and I brooded in my little corner of the car. They couldn't tell me that I couldn't board! Why were they surprised that I tried to run away? How would they feel if complete strangers who insisted that they were your new family tried to take away your one true passion?
         Mrs. Davis hung up just as she turned off the highway onto a smaller road that was incredibly bumpy, and while the car was bouncing around I tried to brush the cobwebs off my hat. Eventually I just took it off and put on my skull cap, which was probably better because my hair was greasy from not having showered in two days. I brushed the dirt off my shirt and found a small spider crawling around on my jeans, which I flicked out the window.
         Ten minutes later, Mrs. Davis turned onto another road that I soon realized was the driveway that led to the biggest school I had ever seen. She parked at the farthest end of the parking lot, which was the closest she could get. “The main office is on your left when you go in. They'll give you your locker number, combination, schedule, and books. Mrs. Davis and I dropped off paper, notebooks and pencils when we enrolled you here yesterday. All you have to do is tell them you're Sasha Smith. They'll also give you a note to give to your first period teacher saying that you're new here and excusing you if you're late to class.” Mrs. Davis said. I was still staring up at the five story building towering above me, but mutely nodded. Then I shook my self mentally and got out of the car without a backward glance.
         “Good luck,” She said, and I paused for a moment, wondering if I should be mad at her for something that wasn't her fault; but then I thought of Dad and I walked toward the school, not looking back at her.

.    .    .

         “So you're the new student?” A small, reedy looking man wearing a tan suit asked me, looking up from the note I had given him. He was my first period Spanish teacher, and his name was, apparently, Mr. Shotter.
         “Um . . . yeah,” I said, because it seemed pretty obvious to me, since the note the receptionist had given me said that I was a new student and needed to be caught up on work since it was nearly halfway through the school year.
         He sighed and said, “Please take a seat,” I turned around and made a beeline for a desk at the very back of the room, desperate for people to stop staring at me. I sat down and hunched over, waiting for him to start teaching. After a moment he got up and started writing on the board in what must have been Spanish. Then my worst nightmare came true; he focused on me and said, “Now, Miss Sarah-”
         “Sasha,” I said.
         He paused. “What?”
         “My name,” I said. “It's not Sarah, it's Sasha,”
         A wave of giggles went through the classroom. He sniffed, then picked up a small red book from the podium in front of him. “That's three demerits, Miss Sasha. One for calling out, one for interrupting me, and the last for correcting me. Two more demerits and you'll have a detention.” My mouth fell open, but he continued talking as if nothing had happened.
         “Can you tell me what this,” He tapped the board. “Means?”
         “Uhh . . .” I said. “That word there means Spanish, but . . .”
         He sighed, then said, “'Yo soy tu maestro de español, el Sr. Shotter.' means, 'I am your Spanish teacher, Mr. Shotter.' Miss Sasha, you should now that this is a highly disciplined class and that if your learning is not up to snuff, I shall have to inform your parents.”
         I laughed. “Good luck,” I said, and crossed my arms, leaning back in my seat. If he thought I was going to be a problem student, I might as well deliver.
         His eyebrows shot sky high. “And just what do you mean by that, Miss Sasha?”
         I rolled my eyes. I could tell the whole class was staring at me, but I was focused on Mr. Shotter. “I mean,” I said slowly, like I was talking to an idiot. “that it's going to be hard to tell my parents anything,”
         Mr. Shotter gritted his teeth and clenched his pencil. “And why will it be so hard to do that?”
         “Because,” I said. “My mom's dead and my dad's in jail for robbing a bank,” As I said it, a ripple of whispers went through the class.
         Mr. Shotter tapped his pencil loudly on the podium. “Quiet! Well then, Sasha, who are you staying with at the moment?”
         I shrugged, and the class's attention returned to me. “A couple of strangers that call themselves my foster family,”
         “And they are . . .” Mr. Shotter said.
         “The Davis's,” I said.
         He sniffed, and turned back to the board, erasing his message in Spanish. He ignored me for the rest of the class, and I ignored whatever he was teaching. The notebook on my desk went unopened, and I noticed a minute later that half of his 'highly disciplined class' had their cell phones out and were texting. One girl in the back of the room had actually called someone and was talking to them, but Mr. Shotter didn't notice and I definitely wasn't going to point it out to him. After a little while of looking around the room, I noticed a group of girls in the corner close to the door that were texting each other and flirting with a couple of guys across the room. They were the same girls who had been watching me arguing with Mrs. Davis at Sears yesterday. This school just get better and better. I thought, leaning back in my chair. My attention shifted to the window, and I got a rude awakening twenty minutes later when the bell rang. I casually grabbed the empty notebook off my desk and shoved my schedule and pencil deep into my pocket. As I was walking out, I heard the mall girls giggling behind me. I knew what they were laughing at. Well, maybe not exactly, but I was pretty sure it either had something to do with my clothes, my greasy hair, my attitude, or my parents. Whichever one it was, I sure didn't care.
         Once in the hall I pulled my schedule out again and glanced at the small block for second period. Literature, I thought, grinning. Should be a wonderful opportunity to completely zone out. The classroom was on another floor and I wasn't exactly in a hurry, so I ended up being late. Very late.
         “Ah, we have our first late arrival. Young lady, since I have not seen your exultant face before, am I to assume that your are are newest arrival in the cathedral of arts, Miss Sasha Smith?” I blinked. I had barely set foot in the classroom when a woman with huge Harry Potter-like glasses and frizzy gray hair pounced on me and started reciting what might as well have been Shakespeare for all I cared or understood.
         “Yup.” I said, purposely keeping my response as short as possible. I ducked out from under her arm and was across the classroom before she had time to grab me again. As I looked around, I noticed that the lady had decked out the classroom like a cathedral. I sat down, ignoring more giggles from various girls. The lady smiled at the class, then picked up a textbook that looked like it weighed thirty pounds, and started writing quotes from it on the board.
         My notebook stayed closed as before, but everyone else was bent over, desperately scribbling. I surveyed the kids in my class, and noticed that there was no one here that had been in my Spanish class. I had a long wait, and it smelled like the teacher had sprayed onion juice all over the classroom, so I tried to breathe as shallowly as possible and started cleaning the dirt out from under my fingernails. The fake stained glass window behind behind the board was somewhat distracting, seeing as it had a picture of two people making out in the light of a full moon.
         Someone poked the back of my head. I had no desire to talk to anyone, so I ignored it. The person kept poking. The teacher began lecturing us about how authors form the shape of society, and the person gave me a particular hard poke. At that I turned around and glared at the person behind me. It was a short, round faced girl with red curls all around her face. Her pencil was in the air, mid-poke. She seemed to practically wilt under the intensity of my gaze, so she just handed me a note, not meeting my eyes. I narrowed my eyes, then turned back around. The teacher hadn't turned to look at the class since I came in, so I didn't bother hiding the note. On the front it said “New girl”. That couldn't be a good sign. I unfolded it and read it.
         Hey. Haven't seen you around before. Oh, by the way, nice face. NOT.
         I snorted. They're gonna have to do better than that to faze me. I thought. I crumpled it up, a small smile on my face, and threw it into the trash can at the front of the room. Or, I aimed for the trash can. Instead it ended up hitting the teacher in the head.
         “Who threw that?” She yelled, turning around. All the mystique was gone from her face. Nobody moved. She scanned the faces of all the students. “Profess, and I may not send the culprit to the headmaster's administrative office.” I couldn't help it. I really couldn't. A laugh escaped me, and her eyes flew straight to me. “Was it you, Miss Smith?” She glared at me. I met her gaze evenly, not flinching.
         “So what if it was?” I asked. All eyes in the room were on me know. The teacher opened her mouth to speak, and the bell rang, drowning out her words. Everybody stood up, and in the confusion, I slipped out the door. As I walked down the hall, a boy behind me whispered, “She's gonna have your hide tomorrow.” When I turned to see who it was, they were already gone. I shrugged, and turned back around. It didn't matter. If the rest of the day was this easy, school might actually end up being fun. 


Chapter 5: The Aftermath
         “What happened this morning, Sashy?” Alexis asked me, jogging to keep up as I strode down the upstairs hall.
         “None of your beeswax.” I told her. I pushed open the door to my room, and before I could close it, she was inside too.
         “Your room's pretty!” She said. “Mine's too small. You wanna see it?” She asked.
         “No.” I said. “Now leave.” I picked her up and carried her out of the room, putting her down in the hall and closing the door in her face. I threw my backpack on my bed and sat down at the vanity. I glanced at my reflection, then groaned and put my head down on the wood. School had been okay, but when I got back to the Davis's place, Mr. Davis had promptly given me a lecture. I wasn't sure what it was about since I tuned him out until the end, when I had just muttered “Whatever,” in response. Now Alexis seemed to be on a top priority mission from Planet Annoying to drive me insane.
         After a few minutes, I stood up and opened my door. Alexis was gone, so I went down the hall to the bathroom. After numerous comments today from kids about my hair, I was pretty sure I needed to take a shower. I threw my clothes in a bundle under the sink, and stepped into the ice cold water. It was actually pretty refreshing. Afterwards, when I came back out, clothes on and hair dripping, I found Alexis waiting for me again.
         “What do you want?” I asked her.
         “Its homework time,” She said.
         “What?” I said.
         “Every day from four to six is homework time. If we finish before six we can watch extra TV.” She said.
         “I didn't get any homework,” I said.
         “Really?” She asked, amazed.
         “Sure,” I said. I really had gotten homework, from almost every class, but I had no intention of doing it.
         “What was in your backpack today?” She asked innocently.
         I groaned. Busted by an eight year old. “Just go away,” I said, and shut the door in her face again. I sat down on my bed and pulled out a random textbook. Math. I put it back in flopped down on my back. I was so tired . . .


.    .    .

         “Sasha, wake up!” I opened my eyes and saw Mrs. Davis standing above me.
         “What?” I asked, feeling sour.
         “It's time for dinner,” She said. I grunted, and got out of bed reluctantly.
         Downstairs, the table was set and there was a huge turkey in the middle. All through dinner, Alexis and Margo talked about school and their friends. Whenever anybody said anything to me, I took a bite and shrugged. Eventually everybody seemed to give up on me, and that was just fine. As soon as I was done I grabbed my plate and left it on the counter, then rushed down to the garage. I grabbed my skateboard and ran outside to the driveway. Screw Mr. Davis and his stupid helmets. I thought. I don't need them. Checking to make sure no one was watching from the window, I did a few Ollies, then two 360 spins in a row. Checking the window again, I rolled down to the bottom of the driveway and attempted one of my most infamous tricks that had won me first place in a boarding competition a few years ago. The 360 double inward. I landed back on the board, and when I reached the street I grabbed an overhanging tree branch and used it to spin myself around and back up the driveway. Halfway up, I did a 360 hardflip. That was the move I beat with the inward heel at the boarding competition. I looked down the street and watched as a camaro pulled into a house that looked like a mansion a few hundred yards away. Oh, joy. I thought. I have a rich neighbor. I grabbed my skateboard and walked into the garage. I left it behind a stack of scooters and bikes and went upstairs. Avoiding everyone's gaze, I flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV. Sandy jumped up beside me, and before I knew it I was stroking his soft fur and he was licking my pants. I flipped through the channels for awhile before settling on a rerun of the movie Avalon High. I watched for a few minutes, then changed the channel again. Everyone was sitting around me, watching as I discarded every show that was on. Finally I stopped on a channel that was showing iCarly. I watched until some fat dude without a shirt came out, then gently shoved Sandy off the coach and went upstairs. No one stopped me.
         Once in my room, I opened the big windows by the window seat and stepped out onto the balcony. The wind tousled my hair and I pulled off my skull cap. I leaned on the rails and watched the sunset, letting the last rays of daylight caress my skin. I heard birds in the forest, calling out to each other for the last times that day. Clouds tinged with pink filled the sky and I felt like I could reach out and grab one, let it pull me high into the sky and carry me far away from here, to a land where my mother still lived, and my father didn't steal. I closed my eyes and imagined that the breeze was my mother touching my face to calm me down, like she did when I was young. She had died of cancer when I was only nine years old. I remembered her cheering me on and helping me on when I was first learning to skateboard, and her never failing encouragement when I had trouble in school. When I got a bad grade in a subject, she never yelled. She asked me what I had trouble with, and made me promise to tell her when I needed help with something. When Dad worked late we would go to the movies, and when I got older, we would go shopping. She taught me how to treat people, and to put myself in their shoes before I acted. The Sunday before she went into the hospital she took me to church, and had me baptized. She had been Christian all her life, but Dad wasn't, and it took her a while to convince him to let her get me baptized. As a baptism present she had given me a silver cross necklace. When she died, I had thrown it into the trash and vowed to never pray again. I didn't see how God could exist and let a woman as wonderful as my mother die. I eventually kept the necklace, only because it reminded me of her, but I haven't worn it since the day she gave it to me.
         I opened my eyes. The sun was down and the air was chilly. I rubbed my arms, suddenly cold, and stepped off the balcony back into my room. I closed the windows and sat down on the floor, gazing around. I thought about this place, my new “home”, my father, school, and my mother. I just couldn't take it anymore. I put my head on my knees and started crying. I sat there until I could barely keep my eyes open and my jeans were soaked with tears, then crawled into bed and fell asleep.