"I'm sure you'll love it here..." It was a speech she had heard far too often for her taste. The glass of the car window was icy against her burning forehead as her heavy eyelids drifted closed, the familiar speech acting much like a sleeping aid. She recited it to herself nightly, laying in whatever bed she found herself in each night. But this time, this time it was different. The darkness of sleep wasn't her escape. As soon as the last of the hazy fall daylight left, it was as if she could smell the blood, filling the air around her-
"Goodness!" Ms. Gracie cried shrilly as Desiree jumped, fingers burying themselves deep in the ripped leather of the ancient, worn seats. The coughing and sputtering bug swerved wildly as Ms. Gracie leaped twice as high as the young girl had, managing a grand feat of four unnecessary swerves before finally finding her bearing back along the highway.
"Sorry," Desiree shrugged, fingernails still piercing the yellow innards of the aging seats, waiting until she was sure Ms. Gracie's high pitched hyperventilation had subsided. The middle-aged woman took a few more deep breaths before setting on her practiced smile back on her face.
"No worries, my dear Dizzy-"
"It's Desiree," she interjected, returning her gaze back towards the flying scenery passing alongside the smudged window.
"Come now, you're just a little shaken," the social worker was unfazed by the venomously sharp interruption of the young woman. "You used to love the name Dizzy-"
"I was twelve!" The careless monotone that had plagued her since release from the hospital suddenly vanished at the mention of a name she would have preferred was buried in the ground next to her last home.
"Come now," she repeated, this time less certain. Desiree had never been one to yell, but that was quickly changing. The heavy silence hung between them for the next hour before Ms. Gracie dared to open her mouth again, this time in a tone Desiree hadn't heard too often. "Now I know that you're a young woman, reaching towards adulthood, and you may be experiencing changes-"
"That happened in Jr. High, Grace," the childish name of Ms. Gracie no longer seemed fitting when she no longer used the squeaky, peppy tone she had been trained to use. It seemed far too much like a molded mask, one Desiree was sure that Grace was beginning to think was her real face. There were these few moments where it appeared as if perhaps she wasn't a robot, molded by the state merely to transport trouble children here and there.
"These aren't changes inside of you that I'm talking about. I'm talking about the changes of life. Soon the state won't be funding your life. Soon you'll be eighteen and on your own, and there is little we can do-"
"I'd rather be on my own now," the honesty of the statement rang in her ears as she said it, realizing that yes, she would rather be on her own. Rather have one family rather than twelve, and most of all, rather remember what had happened that night.
"Do you know how lucky you are Dizzy?" She didn't wait for any objection to the childish name. "Here is a wealthy family, taking in a teen found at the murder site of her previous foster parents. Not only is the monetary status a miracle, but it is near impossible to find someone who would accept a teenager-"
"I know!" Desiree had heard the whispers in the police station that had surrounded her all night. She shook her head, as if it may clear the feeling of an icy cold cot beneath her. Grace pursed her lips bitterly, almost...sadly. Of course, Desiree knew how to push her buttons left and right, but she had never seen her...sad. She bit down on her lip, sure she could taste the coppery metallic taste of blood as she brought her gaze back to the roadside.
"Beacon Hills," Grace read the sign aloud as it flew past them, suddenly throwing the car into a suburban town, people lining the sidewalks left and right, laughing, talking, shopping. All so...innocent. Unknowing. Desiree clamped down harder on her lip, doubting any of them might even begin to understand the concept of death.
Desiree settled back into the chair, wishing it would swallow her whole, and never spit her out again. Yup. She was going to love it here...
"Come now," Ms. Gracie was back in an instant as she pulled down the make-up mirror, surrounded by lights which Desiree hadn't seen light since fifth grade. Ms. Gracie pinched at the wrinkles beginning to creep in along her eyes, about as dim as the lights around her make-up mirror. She closed it before offering Desiree the social worker smile that was the mask of Ms. Gracie. "Look at all these cars here at this nice place. They must be having a party for you," she said cheerfully. "Leave your bags in the back, I'll bring them in," she recited the familiar speech about best behavior which the Senior decided to ignore as she climbed out of the car.
"You must be Desiree!" The door opened before her fist could meet the polished wood of the large house. Desiree's eyes widened as she gazed at the woman, black gown falling to her knees and covered with intricate lace that screamed "money". Not a chestnut coloured hair was out of place on her head as she offered a smile as warm as the lighting inside. Desiree found herself taking a slight step back, watching her for whatever trick there was.
There was always a trick. Whether it be an abusive hand or a dealing in the black market, there was something. But this woman was the picture of happy wealth.
"I'm Jessica," she said warmly, offering her hand out to Desiree. She bit her lip staring at the blood red color on her nails, not a single smear, run or chip as she always had issues with, back when she bothered with nail polish.
"Desiree," she said uselessly, although she clearly already knew her name. She took the hand before she found herself drawn into a hug, surrounded by the scent of honey. Honey and some flower she didn't recognize, but it made her dizzy.
"Come in, Desiree!" She said, ushering her in through a foyer that stretched the full three stories up. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, chiming slightly from the breeze as the door shut behind them. Desiree braved a look back to see that Ms. Gracie hadn't made it in, but wasn't about to object. There was something refreshing about the concept of no mask. In through french doors Desiree was lead, a few polished wood steps opened up into a large living room with warm golden walls and bright violet flowers sprouting from the vases on the mantel and vases. The black leather furniture was crawling with people, all dressed to the nines, a few to the tens as they sat around, drinking crimson wine from crystal glasses.
It was a scene from a movie, she could have sworn it was so. The laughter, the chink of glasses, the casual hum of conversation. But it all stopped as soon as they began down the steps, all eyes on her, and she suddenly wished that her jeans were a little less ripped and her shirt a little less stained.
"Desiree, I'd like you to meet everyone," she wrapped a thin arm around her shoulders with surprising strength. "I don't want to overwhelm you with the names, but it'll come to you eventually," she continued and I let my gaze wander over each of them. They were grouped together in groups that resembled each other, at least to the point that looked as if they were families. There were few kids or teens to be seen. The few there were had formed their own huddle around the fireplace, which was lined by black marbled tiles. Still, no one spoke, as if they were waiting for her...
"Hi," she managed lamely, and immediately the chatter began again, a few laughing, several others making comments on how adorable she was. She felt like an animal in a cage at a zoo, all eyes focused upon her. Studying her. Subjecting her to their opinions. Of course, it was nothing new for a girl in the program. One man of considerable height stood, stepping over his comrades as he approached, a grin on his cleanly shaven face.
"Hello, Desiree," he said, offering his hand. This time she wasted no time in shaking his hand, which he firmly clasped, shaking it as if she were a man. "Firm handshake you have," he mused, eyes glinting at some private joke of his. She hadn't heard that before, having shaken few people's hands. Often she was keeling away from hands coming at her.
"This is my husband, Thomas. Our son should be in the kitchen. I wish there was some easier way to introduce you, but the best I can say is make yourself at home," she clasped Desiree's face in her hands. "I'll go see to your bags, dear," she said before she and Thomas began a perfect walk through the doors, whispering. She stared after them, wondering what they might be saying. If it was about her. Did they like her?
Should she care?
She shook her head, watching as a tall girl began to the right to where she assumed was the kitchen. Sure enough, eyes were like magnets to her, those closer to her whispering rather than speaking. She took a deep breath, putting on a smile like Ms. Gracie so often did before following the girl.
"What are you two doing in here?" The girl she had followed tossed herself up onto the granite island in the middle of the crimson and gold kitchen. Desiree hovered behind the threshold as a tall lanky boy looked up from the table where he sat with a girl, chin in her hand and boredom etched into her face. Unlike the rest, she looked as if she might have just come from school or a day at the mall, and she looked horribly out of place.
"Allison's sitting in here and sulking-'
"So let her sulk. Not like she wants to be here," the girl grabbed an apple, biting into it and jumping off of the counter. She grabbed the lanky boy by the tie, dragging him back towards where Desiree stood. She paused, nodding to Desiree. "Hey shorty, nice to meet you," she said before continuing dragging who I assumed was Jessica's son back towards the living room.
"Hi!" He called back over his shoulder before following her to the living room. Desiree looked to the bored girl back towards the living room filled with people and decided she'd prefer neither, but that didn't appear to be an option.
"So, Allison," she flopped down carelessly at the table across from the wavy haired girl. She looked up, raising her eyebrows slightly.
"So you're the new girl?" She asked, sounding slightly surprised. Desiree's lips twitched, unsure whether to smirk or frown.
"Don't really fit in, do I?" She leaned back, reaching into the candy dish on the center of the table and popping the chocolates into her mouth.
"Not really," Allison gave a half-hearted laugh, brushing a black curl out of her face. "Can't say it's all that fun to be a part of," she looked as if there was something intriguing about her phone, the reflection reflecting off of the glass of the candy dish. There was nothing. Desiree brought her gaze up from the reflection to the odd girl.
"So is this a country club or a book club or..."
"Ha, looks like it, doesn't it?" She grinned, letting out a genuine laugh at her ignorance. Desiree was once again whether to laugh or frown at the reaction. "I've heard they'll clue you in soon enough. You've got an interesting story," she drew a knee up to her chest, wrapping her arms around it, looking too casual and careless for the outrageously formal kitchen she found herself in. She still couldn't believe someone would use such a kitchen. You could only cook so much food.
"What story have you heard?" She asked cautiously, reaching for more candy.
"Heard something-" she stopped, setting her phone down. "Sorry, someone, killed your last parents, and you were the only survivor," she paused, looking at Desiree for a second, as if to gauge the reaction. "They say that situations like that make a person hard...stronger, is the word they use," she said, staring at the table now.
"Hard..." Desiree thought back to the flashing lights of the ambulance, the pulsing in her head.
"That's why they picked you," she said, as if speaking to herself.
"Picked me?" Desiree asked, but a knock brought both of their head sot a sudden swivel towards the door.
"The Argents are leaving, Allison," Jessica appeared in the doorway. Allison nodded, standing up and stuffing her phone into her jean pockets.
"Nice meeting you," the smile was a fake one, one looking way too much like the one that Ms. Gracie had. The one masking pity.
"You too," Desiree lied.