by Lucinda Dark
But this time, she was right. We were only a few streets away from the location she was taking me to. I was almost relieved when she pulled up to a white three-story house with four pillars lining the front porch. Those weren’t marble, were they? I thought only rich people lived in houses made of marble.
“Um … Terra.” I didn’t want to sound weak or anything. I mean, hand me a gun and tell me to point and shoot, fine. Let me take a few blows to the head, all right. Roundhouse kick me in the gut? I could take it and come back swinging. But this … this was a whole world of difference. These people looked like they had money. Not pocket change kind of money, but like … someone might be related to royalty kind of money.
Terra shut off the car and turned to me, putting her serious face in place. I leaned back. “Okay, let’s get this straight, Barbie,” she started, using my name correctly. “It took a lot of tracking down to find your godparents. We spoke with them over the phone and they agreed to take you in temporarily. Do you understand how important this is?”
I nodded slowly. I knew that these people were gonna give me a roof over my head for another year or so until I aged out of the system and had to hack it on my own. That was about it.
She must have sensed that and known that it wasn’t enough—at least, not for her—because she sighed and reached for my hand. I pulled back before she could touch me and she froze. “Sorry,” she mumbled, “habit.”
I shrugged but tucked my hand under my thigh just in case she got the urge to reach for it again.
“Anyway,” she began again, “it’s important because they agreed to a temporary set up.” She stressed that word. I still didn’t get it. Yeah. I knew it was only temporary. A year or so was all I got. “They’re giving you a chance—one that not a lot of kids in the system get.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. “Not a kid,” I snapped.
She waved my comment away. “If you mess this up, you could be sent back to me, do you want that?”
“Wait. What?” It was like she had slapped me with an ice cold bucket of water.
She nodded. “This isn’t permanent,” she repeated. “If something happens or they aren’t sure if they can handle another…” She eyed me and I knew she was about to say something like ‘child’ or ‘kid’ again. I squeezed my other hand into a fist until my nails dug into the crevices of my palm. She coughed awkwardly. “They can send you back to social services. They’re not adopting you, not yet. They’re your godparents, but they haven’t been in contact with your parents for a long time. Their existence is more of a technicality. They signed legal papers agreeing to be your guardians for the time being. We’re lucky they’re even giving you a chance, so don’t mess this up. They do have a choice on whether or not they take you in. Just … try hard to get them to like you, Barbie,” she finally said. “Things would go a lot easier if they did.”
“For who?” I asked. “You or me?”
“Both of us, Barbie. For both of us.”
We got out of Terra’s crappy, gray sedan and met the couple that had walked out and now waited for us on the front porch. The woman was tall and slender with a series of freckles that ran down the bridge of her nose and spilled out onto her cheeks. From the way her hair was done to perfection—highlights in all the right places and not a strand out of place—I would have thought she’d find her freckles to be a flaw and try to hide them. But other than her hair, she seemed to be makeup free and comfortable. She wore loose silky looking pants and a floral blouse, while her husband—at least, I assumed he was her husband since he looked to be about the same age—was dressed in khakis and a blue polo.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. McKnight. I’m Terra, we spoke on the phone.” Terra shook their hands before turning to me. “And this is Barbara Steele.”
I shot her a nasty look.
“Hi, Barbara, it’s lovely to meet you. My name’s Elizabeth and this is my husband, Jonathan. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you.” The woman stuck out her hand.
I stiffened and looked down at it. “Barbie,” I said. I forced my arm to lift. I took the hand she offered, shook it once, and as soon as the tremors hit and my palm grew slick with sweat, I dropped it and backed away. “Nice to meet you, too,” I muttered, forcing an uncomfortable smile.
If Mrs. McKnight noticed my aversion or the way I’d snatched my hand back as fast as I could, she didn’t comment. Instead, she gestured towards the front door as she said, “Why don’t we go inside and get acquainted?”
“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Terra said, nodding for me to go ahead.
With slow movements, I edged past them and entered the house. It was just as big on the inside as it was on the outside. The walls were a cream color, lined in ivory at the base and top. The floors were a dark mahogany hardwood. This house was already far nicer than anything I’d lived in, even when my parents had been alive. A minister and a historian couldn’t afford something like this. I wondered how my godparents had even known my family much less been close enough to be there for my birth.
A wide staircase led up to the second floor. I tilted my head as Mrs. McKnight stopped at my side and directed her gaze towards the top of it. Twin orbs of burning autumn brown reflected cool disinterest. My lips parted as I took in the man at the edge of the top step. Tall, tan, with his hair shorn close to his scalp all around. He looked every inch a bad boy, except instead of the black t-shirt and shitkickers I expected a bad boy to wear, he was dressed in a football uniform of white and navy blue.
Suburbia. Where even the bad boys come with money and a football fetish.
"Maverick, why don't you come and meet Barbie?" Though she phrased it as a question, it was clear that she meant it as something else. An order.
Nonetheless, the guy descended the stairs, scowling my way as he skirted past us. "Can't," he barked over his shoulder as he moved towards the entryway, "I'm late for practice." I didn't miss the look that Mrs. McKnight shot her husband as the front door slammed behind him. Mr. McKnight shook his head.
"Sorry about him," Mrs. McKnight said, drawing Terra's and my attention. "He's been under a lot of pressure this year to bring home the championship. It's only a few weeks away now."
"No worries," Terra replied cheerfully. “Besides, I know how teenagers are.” As if she couldn't help herself, her eyes flicked toward me and I mimicked the same scowl the guy had given me. Her lips twitched in amusement.
“Shall we head into the living room?” Mrs. McKnight asked.
“Lead the way,” Terra replied. I followed as Mrs. McKnight led us into a lavish living room complete with an overstuffed couch and a matching chair and loveseat.
Popping my ass on a single chair so I wouldn’t have to sit next to anyone else, I turned my face to the side and made a slow examination of the rest of the house. An older woman with olive toned skin and graying hair bustled through the open doorway, across the room, and into the kitchen.
Terra and the McKnights began discussing things like weather and the drive. It was just small talk. Assessing talk. Questions that should have already been answered—that probably had already been answered by tests, interviewers, other social workers, emails, and papers that the McKnights likely had to fill out before they had me shipped here. But small talk made them comfortable as they eased into what they were about to do—accept some strange girl into their home.
I sighed, zoning out as I propped an elbow up on the edge of the cushioned seat and let my chin drop to rest in my hand. Exhaustion pulled at my nerves, and somehow, it was even more tiring not letting it show. That little side trip to the church the night before had been worth it, but man was I beat.
My gaze drifted back to the group as Mrs. McKnight reached for the coffee table in front of her and flipped open a book. “—college roommates and you wouldn’t believe the trouble we got into.” My eyes widened as I realized how much of the conversation I’d missed because somehow the subject had turned from nonessential irri
tating small talk to talking about my parents. And they had pictures.
All of the warmth in the room disappeared and ice cold stones fell straight into my stomach as I caught a glimpse of the picture Mrs. McKnight turned Terra’s way. It was my mom. A much younger version of my mom than I’d last seen, but I’d recognize her white-blonde hair anywhere. It was the same as my own.
“Oh, she’s lovely,” Terra said, sounding intrigued. “She looks just like—” Terra’s face lifted and she paused. Something in my expression must have given me away because in the next breath she handed the photo back and changed the subject. “Thank you for showing me these.” Her tone shifted, moving from conversational to all business, and I resisted the urge to thank her as she directed the McKnights’ attention away from my parents. The one subject I couldn’t stand anymore.
“I’ve already contacted the principal at Mav’s school,” Mrs. McKnight replied, shooting me a quick smile. One that I couldn’t find the strength to return. Not when she was still holding the photo of my mom as she slipped it back into the album in her lap. “St. Marion Academy is one of the best schools in the state. They have advanced courses, beta clubs, great sports programs.”
Terra nodded. “That sounds wonderful. I’m sure Barbie will fit right in, won’t you, Barbie?” All eyes fell to me with the question.
I shrugged my response. “I guess so.” St. Marion Academy, I thought. Sounds like a school for rich pricks. “Is it a Catholic school or something?”
“Oh, well no…” Mrs. McKnight trailed off, biting her lip. “It used to be a religious based private school, I think, back in the sixties. It’s no longer like that now. St. Marion focuses primarily on education. It’s got all of the resources a blossoming student might need.” Mrs. McKnight flashed me another mega-watt smile. “New schools always seem scary, but don’t worry, I can take you for your first day. They give you a tour and everything. It’s your junior year, right?”
“Sort of,” I hedged, shifting uncomfortably.
When she frowned, Terra jumped in with an explanation. “It seems that Barbie’s education was primarily … er, what I mean to say is that she was homeschooled. We’ve had her in the school system while she was at the group home—mostly self study. She hasn’t been in a classroom yet. It took a while to determine where she is developmentally—but…” Terra looked back to me.
I sighed. “They had to put me through a bunch of stupid tests to figure out if I’m dumb or smart. Surprise, I’m smart.” I paused. “Enough anyway. I’ve pretty much tested out of most of the upper level classes.”
Terra shot me a look for my tone, but Mrs. McKnight didn’t seem particularly offended. “That’s right, I forgot Delvina went on to become a history professor. She probably had you doing a whole slew of academic work at home. So, would you be considered a senior then? You’ll be in the same grade as Mav.”
I ignored my mother’s name as best I could. “Yeah, technically…” I replied.
“What else did you learn while you were homeschooled?” Mr. McKnight asked, speaking to me for the first time.
I met his soft brown eyes, similar to his son’s. “My dad liked to work out and he taught me and Brandon how to shoot and box,” I said, my tone stilted. “And with boxing, we practiced different martial arts.”
It had been just fun for Brandon and me. Neither of us had ever thought we’d need that training, despite what our parents had claimed. We’d never seen the monsters they had warned us against and for most of our lives, they had been nothing more than shadows in the dark. That was … until those shadows had come into the light. Just for one night. And when they left again, my whole world had been painted in red.
Mr. McKnight’s lips lifted into a smirk as his wife gasped, drawing me away from my morbid memories and grief stricken thoughts. “Your father gave you a gun?” She sounded absolutely horrified. I wondered what she would do if she knew why he gave me that gun. A gun that now sat somewhere under the burned rubble of my old house.
I shrugged again. “It’s not a big deal.”
Mrs. McKnight obviously didn’t know what to say to that, but from the pallor of her face and the way she kept shaking her head in disbelief, I knew it wouldn’t be likely she’d agree to take me gun shopping. Even though me having a gun would probably have made the both of us safer.
Chapter 3
Barbie
“Oh dear, is that the time?” Terra stood abruptly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. McKnight—”
“Please,” Mrs. McKnight waved away her concern, “call me Beth.”
“Well, thank you so much for having me, Beth,” Terra said, “but I really must be going. I have to return the rental and catch my flight to—oh geez, has my watch stopped working?” Terra stopped and tapped against the screen of her techno-watch. It flickered for a moment before the screen went black. Her eyes widened.
I smirked. As much as it pained me to even silently admit it—her issues with technology were not always entirely her fault. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find out she’d been cursed. Nothing ever seemed to work right for her.
“What time is it?” Terra whirled around and when she spotted a grandfather clock against the far back wall, her gasp choked in her throat. “I’m going to miss the flight!” Terra cried.
In almost no time at all, Terra had bustled towards the front door, her keys in hand as Mr. McKnight followed her out. I trailed after them absently and he helped me unload my bags—a worn backpack one of the older kids in my group home had given me and a black trash bag for the rest. It was only when I had the bag in my grasp that it truly hit me. I almost didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.
A tight feeling settled in my chest. Terra had been my one constant since my parents had died. Everyone else’s faces had passed in and out, some staying days, some weeks, some even months, but none of them were as familiar as she was. And now she was leaving me on the doorstep of virtual strangers. I peeked up at Mr. McKnight as he walked back up the path with me. He was an average sized man, quiet, with soft brown eyes and a scruffy beard. He grunted as he reached for my backpack, but I held onto it. I didn’t want to risk him finding the things I had in there.
Our gazes met and he nodded once, as if to tell me it was alright. I shook my head and with a sigh, he released it and continued into the house as his wife came out onto the porch. Mrs. McKnight put an arm around my back as she waved to Terra. My social worker paused, lifting her eyes to meet mine through the windshield. Something passed between us then. An understanding. I had her card in my backpack. I had her contact information and before we’d even gotten in the car to come here, she had told me that, no matter what, I was always welcome to call her if I was in trouble.
I nodded, letting her know I was going to be okay. If it was a lie or not, I wasn’t sure. But it was the hope for now.
Terra Rhodes reversed out of the McKnight’s driveway, and I winced when she nearly clipped their mailbox. But, thankfully, she swerved and avoided it at the last minute. I snorted. I’d bet anything in the world that she was cursing an embarrassed blue streak right about now. The sun began to set in the distance as the red glow of her taillights faded down the road.
It was always the plan for her to leave me behind, but for some reason, my chest ached with hollowness as if I were merely an empty trash bag blowing in the wind. Lost and bereft. I didn't want to admit that I was scared. That I hated the idea of being left here with these strangers. Alone. The truth was, whether I was left there or put in another group home somewhere else, I would always be alone. No one else knew what I knew and it was probably a hell of a lot better that way. If they knew, the world might literally turn into a bloodbath.
"Hey," Mrs. McKnight's voice filtered into my mind and I turned, glancing up at her pretty, smiling face as I stuffed my emotions down into a dark hole and covered them up with a placid smile. "Dinner should be ready soon. I think we’re having Chicken Cordon Bleu tonight. It's one of
Jon’s favorites. I hope you like it.”
I knew she was trying to be nice, but I honestly didn't know what else to say except the truth. "I don't know," I said. "I've never had it."
"Oh, well, trying something new is always nice." She tried to sound enthusiastic, but I could sense the awkwardness by the strained, tightness of her voice. She reached for the front door and pushed it open further.
"Yeah," I lied, following her back into the house. She stepped to the side and let me enter. Something new wasn't always nice. Sometimes, something new was the result of losing something precious. But I didn't say that.
Mrs. McKnight took me up to the second floor, which was just as expansive as the first. It was bigger on the inside than what it had appeared from the front. As we walked, Mrs. McKnight prattled on, informing me that there were two separate home offices, a game room, and a formal dining room.
“We mostly just eat at the breakfast nook, though,” Mrs. McKnight said as she passed through the hallway at the top of the stairs, stopping every so often to gesture and tell me which rooms were what. “That’s the library,” she said, causing my eyes to bulge.
They had a fucking library in their house? I thought. What was this? Beauty and the Beast? Then I recalled their son. I was no princess, but I suppose he was pretty beastly.
“Bathroom number two. The first is on the first floor,” she announced. “This is mine and Jon’s room.” She popped the door open. It was as big as it was neat—as if someone had gone over it with a fine-toothed comb, looking for any hint of clutter or dust and removed it immediately. “We also keep a couple of guest bedrooms.” She gestured to a pair of closed doors. “For when family comes to visit, or for when Mav has friends stay the night. Jon and I go into the city every other weekend for some us time.” She sent me a bashful smile. “Keeps our marriage fresh, you know?” She paused, a pretty pink blush rising to her cheeks. “Anyway…” she continued on.
