Little Lost Girl: The Complete Series
Page 7
Darcy and her husband had kept in touch with Star and called from time to time. Darcy had even invited her to come spend the summer. Star declined. She didn’t want to be a servant, and she remembered how her last stay with the Johnsons had ended with a plane ticket back to Las Vegas. Yet, as the situation with her father became more intolerable and her stepmother’s drug addiction spiraled out of control, Star knew she had to get away from Las Vegas.
The next time Darcy called with a summer invitation, Star asked if she could stay with the Johnsons permanently. She promised to do whatever she was told and to be the best kid ever. She expected Darcy to say no; after all, she had been a bad child and too much trouble. Instead, Darcy said she had been praying for Star. She explained that business at the shop had been slow and money was tight, but they could scrape together the money to buy Star a one-way ticket, and they planned to deal with a return ticket at the end of the summer.
“So, I can stay with you?” Star asked.
“Yes, of course.”
Star felt a wave of relief at Darcy’s willingness to take her back. As strict and demanding as Darcy had been, Star would rather have daily spankings than see her stepmother shooting up and her dad sitting in a catatonic trance day after day. The prospect of leaving Las Vegas thrilled her, and she didn’t care if she never saw her stepmother again. She ended her conversation with Darcy on a happy note, hopeful this time things would be different.
When her father awoke from his nap, Star sat across from him and asked,
“Daddy, when I go to visit Darcy for the summer, is it okay if I stay there?” She watched his reaction as his eyes locked on her and filled with tears. She knew he was lucid at that moment, which didn’t happen often, and he really saw her.
“Little Star, I was hoping you would.”
A deep sadness came into the man’s eyes. He slumped forward, and it seemed to Star that the weight of everything he had done wrong in his life weighed on his shoulders. The look of guilt and regret on his face was as close to an apology as Star would ever get. For the first time in her life, she understood that he wanted her to go away for her own good. She knew her dad was concerned for her, and she didn’t feel abandoned or angry at his response.
That evening, Star packed her suitcases again. Around eight o’clock, Betty stumbled in, mumbled a few words to her father, and sat down on the bed. Star considered telling her the news that she was leaving in the morning to live with Darcy. But when Betty reached in the nightstand drawer for her elastic strap and syringe, Star decided not to waste her breath. Fifteen minutes after shooting up, her stepmother went back to “work.”
The next morning, Betty was home and reasonably coherent. She called a taxi, and an hour later, Star and her parents were at the check-in counter at McCarren International Airport, five miles south of downtown Las Vegas.
Her father had a vacant stare, as if he had withdrawn to another planet, and Betty was fidgety and irritable. Star gave her father a hug goodbye. It would be the last hug and the last time she would see him alive. Her stepmother made no effort to reach out for a hug, so Star stood three feet away and they exchanged an icy “good riddance” smile.
Star turned away from her parents and walked alone to the boarding gate. She felt no sadness—only relief and a sense of freedom from a dark cloud that had begun to lift out of her life. Star knew that she would never live with her dad and stepmother again. She could only hope that living with the Johnsons would be better than it was the first time—but anything would be better than the destruction Las Vegas seemed to hold for her.
Little Lost
Girl
Part Three: Reunited
CONTENTS
1
Darcy and John
2
The Towel Incident
3
Birthday Celebration
4
Little Demons
5
Meetings
6
To Grandfather’s House We Go
7
Foster Care
8
9
Foster Care Homes
Sister’s House
Letter To My Readers
Resources
Chapter 1
Darcy and Jim
Star sat on her bed, holding her doll and gazing out at the serene countryside from her balloon-curtained window. The morning had dawned bright and sunny. Lifting her doll to her nose, she savored the fresh, clean smell, grateful for a new home where she didn't have to be dirty or be a caregiver to her father. She wouldn't have to wake up to the sound of her prostitute stepmother sneaking home in the middle of the night to put on fresh makeup and fix her hair or grab a pack of cigarettes.
Glancing at the closed door to her room, Star sighed and mentally prepared herself to start the day. In a few minutes, she would be expected out in the kitchen to begin the ritual of making breakfast. Things were back to the way they had always been with Jim and Darcy—Star was doing all the household chores, but she was thankful she had a safe and cozy place to live. She was on her best behavior, making meals and washing dishes, inspecting every plate and utensil before placing them on the table to make sure they were sparkling clean. Darcy and Jim expected perfection, and she tried her best to give it to them.
It was Wednesday, and Star was in a cheerful mood because later that evening, she would go to her church youth group. It was her favorite place to be. She had friends for the first time in a long time, and they seemed to enjoy her company. But first, she had to finish all her chores—put away her clothes, clean the house, brush the dogs, fold the laundry, do the ironing, and spend the rest of the day helping at Darcy’s beauty salon.
Star hopped off the bed and followed the military-style procedure of making her bed that Darcy had taught her, pulling the covers so tight that a quarter could bounce off of her comforter. She then placed her doll on top of the lavender blanket. She heard Darcy’s voice in her head saying she was too old for the doll, but it gave her great comfort. Pulling the cord to drop her curtains closed, she took a long blue skirt and a collared shirt with a bear print pattern out of the closet.
A few days after Star moved back in with Darcy and Jim, they had ordered her to undergo a makeover. Darcy chopped off her long blonde hair, leaving her with a boyish hairstyle, and then she permed it, so that what little length remained disappeared with her tight golden curls. Star hated the style and thought it made her look like an old woman rather than a blossoming adolescent. Still, she tried to see things on the bright side and convinced herself that the short length was more manageable and easier to groom.
Star hurried into the kitchen and took out the ingredients to make pancakes. She preheated the griddle and had several pancakes cooked by the time Jim and Darcy came into the dining room and sat down at the table. After breakfast, she cleaned the kitchen, scrubbed the griddle and put it away, and then fed the dogs and cat.
For her remaining chores, Star headed downstairs to the cellar where the washer, dryer, and ironing board were located. Goose bumps ran down her spine as she flipped on the light—the basement had always given her the creeps. She pulled a load of clothes from the dryer and placed items that required ironing on a counter to deal with on Friday. Grabbing the remaining clothes that needed folding, Star headed up the stairs, hoping to finish the task before she had to leave with Darcy for the beauty salon.
When she heard a horn honk in front of the house, she dropped the towel she was folding and headed for the door. Darcy was waiting in the car, and Star knew she would be impatient. Jim had left a few minutes earlier in his blue and white Chevy truck to do a landscaping project for a local business.
In high spirits, Star chattered as they drove to Darcy’s beauty salon. Most days, she was reserved, but she was always in a good mood on Wednesdays. She kept busy throughout the day cleaning Darcy’s salon, wiping down the shelves, putting away brushes, answering the phone, making coffee, and attending to customers’
needs. When 6:30 rolled around, she broke into a happy smile when her friend Bridget strolled into the salon and asked, “Hi Star, are you ready to go?”
Chapter Two
The Towel Incident
Star ducked into Darcy’s office at the back of the salon to ask if she could leave, and Darcy nodded, telling her to have a good time. Bridget's parents were the leaders of her youth group and often picked her up from the salon on Wednesday evenings when Darcy had late appointments and wasn’t able to drop her off at church.
The evenings Star spent mingling with her friends at youth group were the most pleasant times she could remember in her life. The kids played freeze tag, learned Bible verses, ate pizza, and hung out. She loved spending time with Bridget and her family, and she was delighted to be at church. The only thing Star didn’t like was that the night went by too quickly. At nine o'clock, she was loaded back into the van with Bridget and driven home.
On this particular evening, when Bridget’s parents dropped them off, Star grabbed her pink Precious Moments Bible and waved goodbye with a happy smile. She was content, even though her new life was a monotonous blur of chores. She realized that nothing could be worse than living in Las Vegas with her drug-addicted stepmother and mentally ill father. Leaving that difficult life for a clean house and a long list of chores seemed like a great trade-off to her.
As Star approached the house and walked through the front door, an alarm went off in her head. Jim and Darcy were sitting on the living room sofa with grave expressions. Star girded herself for bad news, but this time, her heart didn't drop because she knew that no matter what they said, she would be able to survive it. She had managed this long, and she was determined to survive whatever was going on now with the Johnsons.
“How was youth group?” Darcy asked as Star came into the living room.
“It was fun! We ate pizza, did our Bible verses, and played tag. Bridget has a crush on the new boy. And we listened to Michael W. Smith’s new CD,” Star answered, forcing a nervous smile.
Darcy remained expressionless as she said, “That's good, Star. We need to talk to you.”
Star flopped down in a big, fluffy armchair with a sigh. Bracing herself for the storm she knew was coming, she asked, “What did I do now?”
Darcy gave her a frosty look and replied, “We want to know why you've been blaming the cat for peeing on the towels, Star, when you’ve been doing it all along.”
Star blanched ash white, staring in shock at Darcy as the woman’s words echoed in her mind. After an uncomfortable pause, she asked in disbelief, “I'm sorry—I did what?”
“Let’s not play games, Star. Why have you been peeing on the towels?”
Star’s mind flashed back to conversations she’d had over the past several months with Darcy, who had complained about the smell of the linens and said she suspected the cat was spraying. But the offensive odor persisted, even after the family took the cat in to be neutered. Star was shocked that Darcy could even imagine she was to blame for peeing on the towels.
“Darcy, I am sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about. I never peed on the towels. Why would I do that?” Star asked, trying to sound reasonable. She waited for a sign that the woman was listening and believed her, but Darcy said nothing, so she repeated, “I swear I didn't pee on your towels. Why would I do that?”
“We know you did it, Star. Why don’t you tell the truth and confess so we can be done with this?” Darcy's face was an unreadable, blank mask.
“I didn't pee on the towels! I won’t confess to something I didn’t do,” Star protested.
The argument continued off and on for three days. Darcy insisted that Starr had urinated on the towels and demanded a confession, beating her with a switch, her hand, and finally, a belt. She slapped her so hard she bounced off a wall, and on another occasion, she fell against a table; yet, Star continued to deny the deed and proclaimed her innocence. She awoke each day with Darcy yelling and went to sleep arguing.
On the fourth day, Star gave up and confessed to urinating on the towels. Her heart ached, her body was sore, and she was emotionally exhausted. She hoped confessing would appease Darcy and put an end to the drama. She knew she was fighting a losing battle, and nothing she could say or do would change Darcy's mind.
Because Star was responsible for washing and folding the clothes in the Johnson household, she blamed herself for letting the incident happen. She vowed to take make certain it would not happen again. She double-dried the towels in the dryer and handled each towel carefully, making sure it was fresh and clean before she put it away. She never wanted to be blamed for such atrocious behavior again.
For a while, her plan worked and all was well. Then, a few days before her birthday, it happened again. Star took a shower, dressed for the day, and came into the kitchen to find Darcy standing with her hand on her hip.
“Why did you do it this time, Star?”
“Why did I do what, Mom?” Star asked, looking at Darcy apprehensively and seeing an angry look on her face. She knew this was another conversation that would not end well. “What did I do?”
“You know exactly what you did, young lady, don't try to play it off. Everything I have planned for your birthday is canceled if you don't confess right this minute!”
“Mom…” Star searched her mind for what she might have done to provoke Darcy’s wrath, but nothing occurred to her. She had performed her chores to perfection and without having to be asked. “I'm really sorry…I just don't know what you are asking me to confess to,” she said.
“You know exactly what you did! Since you won't admit that you peed on the towels again, your birthday plans are canceled. Go sit in your room until I tell you to come out, do you understand me?”
Star obediently went to her room with a word. She flopped down on her bed, wondering how her life had gotten to this miserable point again. She had done everything possible to ensure that the towels were fresh and clean when she put them away, and every item of linen was carefully folded.
Fifteen minutes later, Darcy stormed into the room with the same angry expression and barked, “Get your ass out here—it is time to go!” Star slowly climbed off the bed, defeated, keeping her eyes on the floor. As she reached the door, Darcy yelled at her again, “You little witch! I know you peed on the towels! You better confess right now or I’ll get rid of you so fast your head will swim.”
“Mom, I won’t confess to something I didn't do. I didn't do it last time, and I didn't do it this time,” Star replied, breaking down in tears.
Chapter Three
Birthday Celebration
Darcy growled at Star and shoved her out the door of her room. She pushed her several times as they marched through the house and out to the car. They drove to Darcy’s salon in silence, and it was a long day at work. Star was sad but diligently went through the motions of performing her chores without complaining. She made coffee for the customers, took calls, and remained respectful, even though Darcy shot daggers at her every time their eyes met. A sick feeling churned in her stomach as the hours ticked by.
Star pondered how Darcy’s linens could have gotten soiled when she knew the towels were clean and smelled fresh when she put them away. The only possible explanation that came to her mind was the family needed to change the towels more often. They dried off with the same towel at least three times before tossing it into the hamper to be washed. She decided she would change them out more often.
When six o’clock rolled around, Star had just finished sweeping the last strands of hair from the plastic mat under the stylist’s chair. She heard a ding at the shop entrance, and then her friend Bridget from her youth group greeted her. Darcy glared across the room with a hateful look that sent Star’s spirit plunging into despair and said, “I hope you have a good time.”
Confused, Star glanced from Bridget to Darcy, wondering what her foster mother meant. Unaware of the ongoing drama, Bridget smiled brightly and said, “Let’s go, Star, you�
��re spending the night at our house!”
Star could hardly believe her ears! She had never been allowed to sleep over at a friend’s house. All the families she had lived with had been so strict or confined Star to her room so often that she was lucky to make any friends at all. Yet, here she was—even though she was in deep trouble for something she didn’t do—being allowed to stay overnight with a friend.
“Mom, are you sure? I have no overnight clothes.” Star glanced down at her blue jean overalls and wished she had worn something more appropriate for a sleepover.
“It’s okay!” Bridget chimed in. “My dad can take you home to get some clothes.”
“Your father should be home by now,” Darcy said to Star in an icy monotone.
Star nodded and ran to the back of the salon to fetch her school supplies. Then, her heart racing with excitement, she dashed passed Darcy, offering a smile and a wave, to which Darcy quietly replied, “We will deal with the issue when you get home.”
Star shivered at the thought of the verbal and physical abuse to come, but the excitement of spending the night with her friend overshadowed her dread, and she replied, “Okay, Mom.”
That night at Bridget’s home was one Star would never forget. It was the first and only time that she had felt like a carefree teen. Bridget’s parents ordered pizza, and Star received a Michael W. Smith music CD as a birthday gift. She played games with her friend and stayed up late talking and laughing.
Bridget’s parents were kind and compassionate. They lived in a spacious, three-story log house out in the country. Behind the house, they had a built a basketball court where the church youth group often came to play. Star felt at ease with them and yearned for the happy, stable family life her friend was blessed with.