“Welcome to Bedlam, son.”
Marci smiled. “Welcome home.”
Emma Jean Tricks,
You can keep the picture as long as you promise to keep it safe and also to give it back to me someday. The new place is a lot different, but I think it’ll work for me. Magic? Like card tricks? That’s fitting considering you’re a trickster and conned me into taking Mr. Fuzzy while stealing my wallet. That’s what I’ll call you.
Tricks.
And what’s got you so sad you need my picture to make you smile?
-T
Tristan,
Thank you for writing me back! You know that foster kid life is never fun. But let’s make a deal. I won’t talk about the bad stuff if you don’t. There’s enough bad stuff, but writing to you isn’t.
Tricks? I’ve never liked nicknames. Probably because the only ones I’ve ever been called have to do with my curly hair. Like Curly Sue. Medusa. Little Orphan Annie. So unoriginal. Plus, I do like my hair…like every other day. And yes, I love magic. Always have.
I guess conning people into doing stuff is just a bigger trick with a bigger rush. I can do every card trick. I can escape most knots. Oh, and I love quotes. I tape them to the wall of my room. And I’ve never told anyone this, but I also love writing stories. Mostly, fairytale type stuff.
Tell me a secret of yours? Something you’ve never told anyone else.
-Tricks.
PS-I love the name Tricks.
“We all have magic inside us.” -J.K. Rowling
Tricks,
You should like your hair every day. It’s unique, like you. You’ll have to show me those card tricks someday. Shuffling a deck is pretty much all I’ve got, but one of my new brothers is huge into card games and video games and…well, every other game you can think of.
You don’t have to talk about your sad shit. I won’t talk about mine, but honestly, I don’t get sad. It’s one of the many things my file says about me.
I did something for the first time today that’s…well I can’t tell you about it. But it made me feel good. Like I belong. I wish you could meet my new family. They’d like you, tricks and all.
A secret? The day I met you, you were the first person to touch me in a long time. It was like there was a glass bubble surrounding me, and somehow you broke through it. I’ve felt better every day since then. I guess you can even say you worked your magic on me.
-T
PS-I watched a magic special last night. If you tell me you can make the Eiffel Tower disappear, I’m fucking showing up for that.
Tristan,
WOW on the secret. I felt something that day, too. Guilt. For the first time ever taking something from anyone. I’m glad I helped you. But, I don’t think I have super powers or anything. It would be cool if I did. Besides, after your last letter came I tried for two hours to move books across the kitchen table with my mind.
In case you’re wondering, it was a no go.
I’m so happy that you feel like you belong there. I really am. I hope to feel that way someday. I know we said no sad stuff, but my best friend Gabby is leaving tomorrow to go live with her brother. She’s all I have. I don’t know what I’ll do without her here. Aunt Ruby is never home, and when she is, all she does is yell and call me names or bring strange men home who feel like they can do the same.
Just tell me you’re happy. That will help. Maybe I’ll go somewhere someday and feel that way too. Maybe, you can even come visit me sometime? Or I can visit you? I have enough money for a bus ticket. Well, I can get it, but I don’t know where you are.
-Emma Jean
“Those who have a strong sense of belonging, have the courage to be imperfect.” -Brene Brown
Four
It’s late. We should’ve been asleep for hours by now, but with every tick of the clock, the time for Gabby to leave grew closer.
Gabby and I were lying on my tiny twin bed in the dark, shining a small keychain flashlight on the quotes we’d taped to the wall, ones cut from various books, newspapers, and magazines over the five years we’ve lived in the same foster home together.
“This one is still my favorite,” Gabby said. She took hold of my hand, the one holding the flashlight, and directed it at a small, torn scrap of paper at the bottom of the wall above my bed. “How do you spell love? You don’t spell it. You feel it. -Anonymous.” She sighed dramatically and released my hand.
“Did you ever figure out who said that?” I asked, nudging her with my shoulder.
“Nope, but I will. Someday.” I could feel her smile through the dark.
“It’s from Winnie the Pooh,” Mona, Gabby’s older sister by ten months, groaned from her bed across the room. “Now, will you two please be quiet so I can get some sleep on our last night here?” I heard a rustle, and I knew that meant she’d rolled over and thrown her pillow over her head as she’d done too many times to count tonight.
I grew quiet, and Gabby knew that Mona’s words had seeped in and reminded me of what tomorrow would bring.
“Get over here,” she whispered loudly, pulling me back down onto my back beside her.
I brushed off tomorrow and instead chose to be present in the moment. Gabby and I giggled and huddled closer, our shoulders touching, our legs draped over one another’s.
“This one’s mine,” I said, shining the light higher on the wall. “Throw me to the wolves, and I will return as pack leader.”
“Wow. Okay, I change my mind. That’s my favorite, too,” Gabby said. “Wait. What about this one? If you need a hero, become one.”
“Now, that one’s my favorite,” we said, in unison.
Mona groaned again, and this time, I clicked off the flashlight, but Gabby made no move to return to her own bed in the middle of the room. It was rarer for us to sleep apart. “You know, Mona is my sister by birth, and I know you and I aren’t related by blood, but you’re my sister, too. You know that, right? I choose you, and I think that, in a way, it’s even more special.”
I knew her well enough to sense the tears welling up in her eyes, and I found my own eyes beginning to sting and water. I grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “Yes. Sisters. Always.” I sniffle. “I choose you, too.”
Gabby’s arms wrapped around mine, and we laid there, quietly crying, holding one another in the dark. “That’s got to mean something, right?” she asked with a sniffle. “That we choose to be sisters?”
“Yes, it does mean something,” I assured her, our tears mixing together between our pressed cheeks. “It means everything.”
“Not enough to keep us together,” she muttered. “I’d rather stay in foster care with you than go live with Marco without you.”
“No,” I told her. “Your brother is out of prison. He’s bringing you and Mona home. You should be happy. I won’t let you feel sad for me when this should be good news.”
“It doesn’t feel like good news,” Gabby said, with pain in her voice. “I was so young when I was put into foster care. I don’t remember the town I was born in. I don’t remember Marco at all. I don’t know anything about him. And suddenly, he wants us to be a family again without so much a phone call or a visit?”
“But he’s your brother. And you’re going home. You’re one of the lucky ones,” I reminded her.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” she replied with a sigh.
I clicked the flashlight on again and swung the beam back to the wall. “Look,” I said, giving Gabby a nudge.
She lifted her head and read the words aloud that I’d lit up. “Distance means so little when someone means so much.” She grabbed the flashlight and moved it to the center of the wall to the most recent quote. The one we taped up last month right after we found out she was leaving.
It was my turn to read it out loud. “How lucky I am to have something which makes saying goodbye so hard.” I choked on a sob and held Gabby tighter. “It won’t be forever,” I said between tears, which were flowing freely now.
“I’ll ma
ke Marco bring you with us. He has to bring you with us,” Gabby cried.
I shook my head. “It doesn’t work that way. You know that.”
“I’ll find a way. I promise. I’ll find a way,” she whispered. “We’re a team. Don’t replace me as your accomplice.”
I chuckled. “I won’t. I can’t. You’re the best there is.”
I was entwined with Gabby, neither one of us wanting to let the other go, not even after she fell asleep and I remained awake, staring at the ceiling. I clutched the small heart-shaped locket around my neck that held the picture of Tristan and his mother. It brought me comfort I’d need even more tomorrow after Gabby left.
Morning light shone through my closed eyelids. I sat up with a start and quickly realized that Gabby was no longer tangled up with me. She’d gone. Her bed was stripped bare. Her things, which were normally strewn about the room in heaping piles of clutter, were also gone.
My chest tightened, and I fought the tears pricking the backs of my eyes once more.
Be happy for her, I reminded myself.
There was a torn piece of paper on the side table next to me. I picked it up, and the tears I was holding back began to spill down my face.
We weren’t sisters by birth, but we knew from the start, fate brought us together to be sisters by heart. -Anonymous.
I clutched my note and took a deep breath. I tried to remember that Gabby was going home. She was going to be with her family. Her future happiness helped me gather myself and my emotions enough to head downstairs. When I got to the bottom, I was surprised to find Gabby still there with her arms wrapped around a sobbing Mona.
“What did I do wrong? This isn’t fair!” Mona sobbed into Gabby’s chest.
“What the heck happened?” I asked, entering the room.
My caseworker, Miss Andrews, stood in the doorway, looking frazzled.
Shit, what did I do now?
“Uh, what are you doing here?”
She sighed. “There was some confusion when I spoke to Ruby last week,” she said frankly. “Marco isn’t taking Gabby and Mona.”
I scrunched my nose in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand. They’re staying? But I thought…”
Miss Andrews shook her head. “She had it wrong. If only Ruby had actually listened to me when I’d called.” She huffed in annoyance and plopped her phone into her bag. Plucking out a file, she then handed it to me.
The first page was an official looking order at some sort, but I couldn’t understand the words even though I read them clearly.
“Marco isn’t taking Gabby and Mona,” Miss Andrews explained. “He specifically applied for Gabby and…” Her words trailed off into the distance as I looked down at the paper. My eyes went wide when I read the name next to Gabby’s at the top. It wasn’t Mona’s.
It was mine.
“It has to be a mistake,” I said. “I’ve never even met Marco. I’m not family. Mona’s his sister. Not me.”
Miss Andrews shrugged. “It’s not usual, but he filed all the proper paperwork, went through a lawyer, and the judge signed off on it. I’m just the messenger, here to carry out my orders.”
Mona looked up from Gabby’s tear-stained shirt and glared at me with red-rimmed eyes. Only being separated by ten months made them look almost like twins if Mona’s hair wasn’t cut to a bob while Gabby’s was so long it reached her waist.
My heart hurt for her. My brain swam with confusion. Mona was a little uptight, but she’d never been hateful toward me. She was more like an annoying older sister who chose homework and school activities over pick-pocketing and petty theft. But, she was an annoying sister that I care about. And her normally very serious attitude had turned into almost happiness when she found out she was going to live with Marco.
Miss Andrews opened the front door. “I’ll be waiting in the car. You have five minutes to pack.” She looked at Mona. “And say your goodbyes.”
“It’s got to be a mistake,” I said again, not able to believe what was really happening.
“It’s not a mistake,” Mona said. She sniffled, wiping her runny nose with the back of her hand. “Marco doesn’t want me.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “He’s taking Gabby…and YOU.”
Five
Lacking was a much different town than the one we came from, even though it was only an hour’s drive away. Brighton was generally poor, but well kept. The streets were always clean. The people were friendly.
Lacking might as well have been another world.
Empty beer cans and trash lined the sides of the road as we entered Lacking. Gabby and I were holding hands in the back seat of Miss Andrews’ sedan. I couldn’t say I wasn’t happy that I got to be with Gabby, but as we headed further and further into town, a pit began to open up in my stomach.
“Do you remember any of this?” I whispered to Gabby.
She looked out the window. Shock written all over her face.
“No.” She looked down to her hands. “Do you think Mona’s going to be okay?”
Miss Andrews answered, looking at us through the rearview mirror. “Mona will be more than fine. She’s been awarded an academic scholarship from the state to a private boarding school for gifted young women. A hundred percent of their students graduate and go on to college.”
“How?” Gabby asked.
Miss Andrews shrugged. “I’m not sure, but someone had to apply for it. Either Mona or one of her teachers on her behalf.”
Gabby’s face was still lined with worry.
“She’ll be okay,” I told her. “Maybe, using all of her brain power will help her be less grumpy all the time.”
Gabby offered me a small, sad smile. I squeezed her hand.
“I tell you what. When she gets all settled in, I’ll forward you her contact information,” Miss Andrews offered.
Gabby looked up from her lap. “Thank you.”
Miss Andrews nodded. “She’s going to a great place.” She turned the wheel, and we came to a stop at a closed gate connected to a six-foot concrete wall covered in spray paint, barbed wire spiraling along the top. Two men with yellow bandanas around their necks held large guns across their chests.
It looked like a fucking prison.
Mona was going to be fine, but I was growing less and less confident about our own situation by the second. When Gabby’s hand tightened around mine, I knew she was thinking the same thing.
A large, spray-painted symbol of a skull with another yellow bandana around the lower half of its face adorned the gate. Below it were words I recognized as Spanish but had no clue what they meant.
“Los Muertos,” I whispered.
Gabby looked at me. “The Dead.”
“Here we are,” Miss Andrews announced happily like she’d just pulled into the Disney World parking lot. One of the men came up to the window and looked at Gabby and me in the back seat. He waved us on and nodded to the other man who pushed open the gate.
Inside the gates was a dirt driveway surrounded by tall unkept grass. Five brick buildings, each three stories, sat in the middle. Bent grass and dirt paths lead from one to the other. Each building was just like the gate, covered in spray paint and graffiti with different variations of the same skull symbol and the words Los Muertos.
“What the hell is this place?” I asked in a scared little whisper.
Miss Andrews parked in front of the middle building. She opened my door, and Gabby and I shuffled out with our backpacks in tow.
“It’s your new home,” she said brightly. “Smile girls.”
A monster of a man walked out of the building flanked by two others at his sides.
“Marco,” Miss Andrews greeted.
“Olivia,” he replied, taking the toothpick from his mouth to plant a kiss on her lips. Gabby and I hovered close to the car.
Marco towered above Miss Andrews. He had a dark goatee and deep brown eyes. He was shirtless, elaborate guns tattooed on each side of his lower torso. He pulled up the
waistband of his baggy khaki pants while he and Olivia talked like they were old friends.
She played with the heavy gold chain around his neck and giggled, whispering something to him we couldn’t hear. She looked back at us and then to Marco. She ran her hand down his shirtless body before turning back to the car.
“Tell your brother his debt has been taken care of,” Marco said. “And wait.” He raised his chin to the man on his right who tossed a thick envelope to Miss Andrews. “For your troubles.”
She looked inside and smiled. “Gracias, to you as well,” she said with a nod. She climbed into the car, and Gabby and I stepped away so we aren’t run over. She backed out through the gates without so much as a goodbye or glance in the rearview mirror.
“Bienvenida, sis,” Marco said, with a smile. He moved the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other. He gave Gabby a one-armed hug while she looked up at him with a mix of dread and hope in her matching deep brown eyes. “Good to have you home.”
“Home?” she asked, looking around.
“Yeah, home. You may not remember this place, but this is where you were born, hermanita.”
“What is this place?” I asked.
Marco’s lifted his gaze from Gabby to me. His smile widened. Little lines formed around the outside of his eyes, crushing the small black heart tattoo next to his right eye.
“And bienvenida to you, too, blanquita.”
He looked around at the dilapidated buildings with pride, as if they were made of marble instead of crumbling brick.
“This is the Los Muertos compound.” He raised his hands to the two men behind him. “These are two of my soldiers, Flip, and Mal. I run this place, these people, and this town. I’m their king, and since you two are family, that makes you princesses of Los Muertos.”
Gabby’s shoulders raised as the worry lifted away.
“Why am I here?” I couldn’t help myself from asking.
Marco laughed and addressed his men. “No beating around the bush for this one.”
The Perversion Trilogy: Perversion, Possession & Permission Page 4
