by G. Bailey
"Elizabeth, come downstairs!" the angry voice of my foster dad rings through the house. I groan and look over at my clock to see it’s five in the morning. I have four hours until school, and I’ll have to clean the whole, damn house before I can leave. I roll out of bed to have a quick shower and throw on jeans, a vest, and hoodie before running down the stairs. I stop at the mirror in the hallway, pulling my long, almost-white hair into a ponytail. The two-bedroom house is a tip, despite the fact I cleaned it yesterday morning, like I do most mornings. Fred, my lovely foster dad, is passed out on a stool in the kitchen with his hand wrapped around a whisky bottle. I know better than to talk to him, and I start cleaning around him. They kept me up most of the night with their loud music and a party that didn’t stop till three in the morning. Let’s not mention the idiots who tried to open my locked door. This is normal for me. At least they feed me for doing the cleaning. I know that if I didn’t get up and clean, there would be no food for a week. Finally, at eight, it’s all done, and I grab my bag, slamming the door on my way out.
As much as I try to forget my living situation, I can’t. I’ve lived with Fred and Vivian since I was fifteen. It’s been a nightmare from day one. Sure, they act all lovely and great when social services are around, but, in reality, they use me to clean the house, and I try to stay out of their way. I have six more months till I’m eighteen, then I can leave. I’m not sure where, but, honestly, anywhere would be better. I have no living family and no money, so I don’t have many options other than to find a job quickly and a room to rent. I walk into school thirty minutes later, it’s a grammar school which I have to attend. That or college, supposedly the grammar school is good for my grades, but it’s more like the better of two evils.
The day progresses as I would usually expect it to: art and history classes all day. I took a double-A level in art and one in history, which is surprisingly not boring. Later that day, as I sit at lunch alone, I think of my best friend Tilly, who moved to France two months ago. She was the only reason I could deal with this crazy-ass school. It’s full of posh idiots whose parents paid to get in, not like Tilly and me, who actually got straight A's. Tilly really didn’t need to study hard like I did, but she did anyway, and that’s why I like her.
I’m pulled from my thoughts as the intercom comes alive, “Would Elizabeth Turner come to the main office?” and then it clicks off. I look up to see everyone staring at me. I shrug as I try not to blush. Hopping out of my seat, I walk to the office on the other side of the building. I keep thinking what the hell I’ve done, or if Fred has called to say there is another family emergency at home, which is code for: ‘I have friends coming to get drunk, and I need the house clean again and didn’t notice you had already cleaned’. I roll my eyes and soon I’m at the office, where I’m told to go straight in by the snooty receptionist.
I walk in the room to see my head teacher behind the desk and the back of a tall man with dark-brown hair tied in a loose knot at the back of his head.
“Come and sit, Elizabeth. There has been some news, and this man has come to talk to you.” I ignore him and look as the dark-haired man turns to me.
“It's nice to meet you, my sister. You wouldn't believe how long I have looked for you,” the dark-haired stranger says to me in a deep voice.
I turn and look at my head teacher, hoping he will help, but he ignores me and looks out the window. I look back at the man, taking in his head of dark-brown hair and massive, muscular build as well as his expensive-looking pressed suit. I finally look in his eyes and see the same bright-green eyes I have, looking back at me. I start to back away into a seat on the couch. I look down at the floor as I try to collect my thoughts. My mother never told me anything about my father, just that I wouldn't want to meet him and left it at that. She passed away three years ago, four days after my fifteenth birthday. I guessed she would have told me about him when I was older, but who knows?
“Look, I know this is strange, but I am your half-brother, and I now have custody of you until you turn eighteen. I have come to take you back home with me,” he says like it’s an everyday fact. I’m getting the impression not a lot bothers him.
I half listen as I’m still trying to take any of this in. A brother, if that isn’t enough to deal with and then him adding on the fact that I’m moving. I should panic and run. Who knows what he wants, or if he is even my brother? But, then again, it can’t be worse than where I live now.
“Elizabeth, look at me,” my brother says as he picks up on my internal war.
I look up into those familiar green eyes that show kindness. I try to think of more reasons to run, but I can see my own eyes looking back at me, and, well, I think I’m going to have to trust him.
“It's Izzy, my friends call me Izzy. What’s your name?” I’m still looking at his face, trying to see the truth behind his words, he is closed book as far as emotions go, but I can see some kindness. That's enough for me to try to relax.
“I’m Harley King, nice to meet you, Izzy.” He smiles, and it takes me a minute to realise he kind of looks like I do in pictures when I smile.
I stand up quickly, putting some distance between us.
“What did you mean when you said you would take me back with you and custody?” I try to ask calmly and kind of fail.
“That you’re coming to live with me. You have no other blood relatives as far as I know. I get custody, I have custody of my three younger brothers too. Well, your brothers too,” he scratches his head then huffs and sits down on the sofa. He straightens his suit jacket before saying.
“I know this is hard for you to believe, and, trust me, this whole situation is difficult. Our dad is dead. I took over when he died. I was twenty, and the twins–Sebastian and Elliot–were fifteen. Luke was fourteen. It was difficult, but I made it work. I later found out from a letter from dad’s will, which I stupidly ignored, about you. It had a DNA test done when you were a baby and an old address and number of yours. Of course, it's taken me two years to find you due to all the moves you and your mother had taken. I'm sorry for your loss, by the way.”
I nod and sit next to him, taking it all in. Four brothers, and he is right about us moving. My mother just liked to see new places, and I was taken along for the ride. Yesterday, I had no one; now, I have a family, and I am moving out of my crazy foster family. This shit seems unbelievable.
“Alright, to be honest with you, I have done everything I can to leave my crazy foster parents, so this could work for me. I mean moving to your place, and then we can see how things go. I guess I would like to meet the rest of you and learn about you. How old are they?” I ask looking at Harley who looks around twenty-three, they can’t be that old.
“The twins are seventeen, like you, and Luke is sixteen. I'm so glad you’ll come. I thought I'd have a massive fight on my hands with getting you to come with me.” he says with a grin, which makes me smile too. He stands up, claps his hands together getting the attention of my head teacher, and starts talking to him about sending my paperwork over and the school switch. I notice he makes a very a large payment to the school to help hurry up my paper work. I look at him now in his perfect suit and frown. I look down at my baggy hoodie and worn jeans, then finally to my worn trainers that I have had for at least two years. I can't help but sigh and think how I'm not going to fit into their world.
As we head to my house in his massive, black SUV that's shinier than most of the cars in my small town, I’m wondering what Harley will think of my foster parents or their home.
Chapter Two
Izzy
“Izzy, we need to go soon, but I understand if you want to wait until tomorrow to pack and say your goodbyes,” Harley says while pulling the car into a parking space next to the house. The lawn hasn't been done since the last social services inspection six months ago. It’s long grass, that’s mostly weeds, covering the small, front lawn and cracked pavement leading to the door. The house hasn’t been worked on for years, and it te
lls from the outside. My lazy, and possibly crazy, foster parents wouldn't bother leaving the house to do any work on it. Well, they didn’t care enough to make me mow it or risk neighbours seeing me working my ass off for them, as it’s a nice neighbourhood with decent people living here.
“No, I only have a bag, or so, of things, so it will only take me half an hour to pack, want to wait?” I say, hoping he will stay. I secretly don't want to be alone with them when they find out I'm leaving. They have never hurt me, but throwing things near me and screaming at me is normal for them. I frown, thinking of times when it’s worse if they have been drinking, which I’m guessing they have by now. It is midday.
“Yes. I need to tell them about you leaving with me,” he tells me and then frowns.
“Well, your foster parents should have received a phone call or letter explaining, anyway,” he hesitates before continuing as he stares at the house. “Why have you only got one bag? What about your clothes and, well, girl stuff?” he asks while pulling out the car keys.
I nearly sigh in relief that he's not leaving me here, and I say quietly. “I don't have many clothes or other things,” I try to get out of the car because I don’t want to discuss this anymore, but a large hand on my upper arm gently stops me. He huffs, gaining my attention back to him as he moves his hand.
“Seb is going to love spoiling you with my credit card,” he laughs loudly and gets out of the car too.
I frown at his statement, but my nerves get the best of me and don’t let me think about it anymore as I stare up at the home I’ve lived in for three years. So many memories are bad, but also in some ways this place made me stronger, I straighten up and walk into the house with Harley following me. I start by walking straight into the living room where my foster dad is passed out face-down on the sofa with a bottle of vodka in his hand. I’m guessing Vivian is at one of her friends’ as she is nowhere to be seen.
“I wouldn't wake him up if I was you. I’ll go and pack,” I say in a whisper and shrug at Harley as he glares at Fred on the sofa. I notice how he looks around the room in disgust before smiling at me, but I can see the pity in his eyes.
As I walk past him he says to hurry up, so I suppress a smile at that and run up to my room. I throw my three pairs of jeans, four tops, and my leggings in a bag. I get all my underwear and, finally, my jewellery. I hid it under my bed, it's the only thing of my mother’s I have left, that my foster parents haven't sold. The memory of my mother comes rushing at me as I hold the necklace.
I know I shouldn’t be looking in mum’s jewellery box, but everything is so pretty. I am only seven, so mum won’t be too mad. I open the worn, wooden box and inside are pretty, little earrings I’ve seen my mom wear. In the middle, is a very pretty purple necklace I’ve never seen. I pull it out holding it up in the air as it sparkles in the light from the window, making me giggle.
“Elizabeth,” the angry voice of my mother makes me jump and turn to see her standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Her white-blonde hair is up in a messy bun from cleaning, and she is wearing a pretty, red dress. Her face softens slightly after a second before she lets out a long breath and comes over to me. She kneels in front of the stool I’m sitting on and takes the necklace out of my hand gently.
“It’s real pretty, mummy,” I say, frowning at my mummy’s sad face.
“It is, isn’t it? I haven’t looked at this in years. It’s called a sapphire,” she tells me.
“Who gave you it, mummy?” I ask as she stares at the necklace in her hand. The sapphire is about the size of her thumb and shines like my mummy’s blue eyes.
“The man who still holds my heart, baby. I just can’t let this go.” She whispers the end part to herself, but then she stands up, putting the necklace back in her box and holds her hand out to me.
“Do you want to go and get ice cream? Mummy could use some chocolate ice cream.” She smiles, making me laugh.
“Yes, mummy,” I squeal jumping up and down.
The memory of her fades, leaving only the sadness that she is gone. I kept it hidden well enough because of that memory, I guess I had always hoped it was my dad who gave it to her, but who knows? It looks expensive, but my mum never dated anyone that I saw growing up, so it could be. I could ask Harley. I throw it in my bag then go into the bathroom to collect my shampoos, soap, razors, and hairbrush. I chuck those into the bag and look at myself in the full-length mirror. My long almost-white, blond hair is nearly at my waist, even in a plait like it is now. I have those bright-green eyes like my brother and a layer of freckles I’m not a fan of. I’m quite pale as I don’t get out much, but I have a good body, as my best friend would say. I’m looking at my eyes wondering about my father when I hear a thump and a man cry out. I race down the stairs finding Harley holding Fred by his neck up against the wall, and Harley’s face is close to Fred’s.
“Don't speak about my sister like that ever again, or I’ll end you. Do you understand?” he asks, and Fred mumbles a shaken “yes”. Harley lets him drop to the floor. Harley looks back to me with a smile and starts brushing down his suit before asking, “You ready?” I nod and he turns back to Fred with a scary amount of hate on his face. “We are going now, and don't contact my sister, or I’ll find you.” With that, he gestures for me to walk out, and I do with my head held high. I say goodbye to my old life and head out into the new.
Chapter Three
Izzy
We drive for around four hours towards the Lake District. Harley tells me that we’ll be living in a small village called Kendan, where they are all from. Harley continues to tell me that I will be joining the twins in their last year at the local grammar school. The school does the same courses that I am doing now, and I can continue them for the few remaining months I have left. We talk about what I study, I tell him about my love of art and history. Then, I tell Harley that I want to work with my art when I'm older. I’m surprised when he thinks this is great and can't wait to see my work.
“So, what work do you do?” I ask.
“I own the local gym in the village. It’s the only one for miles, so we do good business. Plus we all had a very good inheritance.” He glances at me before looking back at the road.
“That’s why you’re all buff then,” I joke, and he grins at me.
“Yes, and so are your brothers. You can come any time to build some muscles if you want,” he smiles as I laugh.
“No, I don’t do exercise.” I laugh at his shocked face. “I’m serious. I can run if I want to, but I get all red and sweaty. Well, I’m lazy.”
“You’re joking right? Don’t you eat, then because you’re quite thin and small?” His tone is now serious. I can understand why, seeing where I came from. But, I’m just lucky that I have a good body despite not doing much exercise. My friend Tilly always used to moan about that.
“I just have good genes I guess. I have a bad addiction to Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.” I laugh with Harley when he answers.
“It’s good that Luke likes that stuff and it’s always in the freezer, then.”
“I may like Luke already.” I say.
“Do you drive? We live in the middle of nowhere and without a car, it will be difficult to get around.”
I sigh thinking back to Tilly’s father who bought me a crash course for my seventeenth birthday from all of them. It was the sweetest thing, even if I could never afford a car and insurance. I passed straight away out of pure luck I believe and a few late nights practising in my foster parent’s car. “Yeah, I have a licence.” I answer.
“That’s great, all the boys have cars, so one of us will be able to drive you anywhere until Seb or I can buy you a new car.”
“That’s too much money,” I frown.
Harley laughs at that and we carry on the drive.
As we pull into the village we cross over a beautiful, old bridge with the large river running through the town. As we drive further, I notice the small mountains in the background, and the town is beautiful
even at night-time. It’s now close to nine pm, and I'm hoping to go straight to bed when we get there, I’m glad we stopped off for some food on the road.
We pass more country roads and eventually pull into a small road with heavy, black gates which are open. I can see a long road behind them with massive trees on both sides and it’s lit up with large street lamps.
Harley mutters something about the gates being open when they weren’t meant to be and drives up the path. Slowly the biggest house I’ve ever seen comes into view. It's beautiful, grey stone even in dim lights, but when I see all the cars parked in front and hear the loud music blasting from inside, I wonder if this is normal. I briefly think I have no chance of sleeping till morning as I look at the garage built on the side of the house and then the people flittering around outside. I can’t see much in the dark, but it seems to have big windows lining the front of the house.
“For fuck’s sake, I leave them for three days and come back to a massive party,” he jumps out of the car and slams the door.
I go to follow, and he gestures for me to stay behind him. I really don’t want to be my brothers right now. Harley looks scary as hell.
He slams the massive, wooden door open and pushes drunken people out the way as I follow. I can't see much over the amount of people and noise from some loudspeakers that make my ears feel like they are bleeding. I have not been to many parties because I just didn’t have the clothes or the time to go to them.
We pass through a dark kitchen which has three couples making out on the counters, I keep my head down and try not to look around. I spot the booze everywhere when we pass through a dining room, where there were teenagers dancing on the impressive, wooden table. We eventually make our way into a living area with two massive speakers either side of the largest TV I’ve ever seen. On screen is a music channel with almost naked girls dancing. There are three black, leather sofas spread around the TV and on each is a couple. The room is dark, so I can't see much.
