This was the last straw. One more promise broken; showing just how much they cared. One more time she was forgotten. It just proved her fears. NO one loved her. One more time abandoned, one more time they'd lied. Finally she realized what she had to do. She could end it all right now. No one would even miss her. They'd proven that today.
"We wouldn't dream of missing your big day." "Gosh honey, the lead in the Christmas pageant." Liars all of them. Well ok so her sister had shown up, but that was probably so she could have a good laugh. Why else would she be there? It wasn't like her sister cared.
Mind made up, she went to gather the things she would need. She got a pen and paper to tell them they
would finally be rid of her forever. Then she slipped into one of her fathers
drawers and grabbed her instrument of choice.
Holding back tears, she wrote them a letter; the final letter she'd ever
write to them. She poured all her anger
into it, all her pain, and then signed it.
Finally she came to what she knew would be the most difficult part. She pulled back the hammer and stood like that for a moment or two making sure her aim was true. Finally she gathered her courage and brought the hammer down with a sob.
Moments later she had gathered all the change from the shards of her piggy bank. She slipped it all into the front pocket of her pink backpack, gathered a couple of her favorite outfits, and slipped the pack onto her shoulders. She placed the note on the refrigerator and slowly walked out the front door. 'They'll be sorry' Quinn thought as she walked down the snow covered stone lined path to the sidewalk. Sniffling, she picked a direction and started walking.
Her breath puffing out ahead of her, she took random lefts and rights wondering where she would go, what she would do. After nearly a half hour of walking she looked around, eyes and cheeks red, and realized she had no clue where she was. They were new in town and she had never seen this street before. She decided to backtrack, to find someplace she recognized, but the salt covered sidewalks showed no footprints to follow and neither of the streets looked familiar. The brightly colored Christmas decorations seemed to mock her. Happy families who loved each other, and she was all alone.
She was tired, and sure that she couldn't go home. What if they were glad she had left? What if they were planning a party right now to celebrate her being gone? Being out here alone was a far better option than going back and finding that they didn't want her. Tears flowing again she wondered into a snow covered playground. She walked to the rusty merry-go-round, brushed the snow of a small area, and sat down. She pulled her coat around her tighter and took off her snow covered mittens.
She sat sobbing for several minutes ignoring her surroundings, so when a small voice spoke up, she very nearly screamed.
"What's wrong?" Asked the dark haired little boy in front of her. While she thought of how to answer that he settled down next to her. His shaggy black hair fell across his eyes, and he had a sweet, innocent smile. Noticing her shivering he slipped off his scarf and wrapped it around her neck. "How long have you been out here? You're gonna turn blue."
Quinn finally answered, words jumbling together, tears flowing again as she spoke. "My parents don't care. They always say they're gonna be somewhere for me and never get there. My sister hates me and thinks I'm an idiot. And to top everything, I'm lost." She started sobbing again, and he hugged her lightly.
"Hey, it's alright. Parents are jerks sometimes. Take my dad, for example. We drove for hours to get here, all cause he wants me to go to this special football workshop next summer. I've told him over and over I don't even 'like' stupid football. He wants me to be a famous quarterback, no matter what I want."
"What do you wanna be?" Quinn asked tears slowing once more.
"I dunno, lots of things; an astronaut, a fireman, maybe even…" He looked around quickly making sure no one was nearby to overhear. "a teacher." He waited shamefaced for her to laugh at the idea.
Instead Quinn looked curious. "Why a teacher?
He looked at her, pleased that she hadn't made fun of him, and thought for a moment before answering. "See I have this friend, Mack, and he didn't get multiplication. He's not dumb or anything, he just didn't understand. Ms. Bartlett wasn't explaining it so he could understand it. He could memorize tables an' stuff, but it made no sense to him. The why's and the how's, you know?" She nodded and he went on. "I explained to him that it's just a way to add groups quickly and he still didn't understand. So I sat down with some packs of gum and showed him… five packs of gum with five pieces in each. He looked at me like I was a moron or something. Then I asked him how many pieces there were. He started counting each piece and I stopped him. I wrote out the math. You know: 5 + 5 + 5 + 5 + 5 = 5 x 5 = 25. You could see in his eyes the moment the connection was made; the moment he 'got' it. I swear I've never felt so good."
She smiled at him, "That sounds nice. I wish I was good at something like that."
He thought a moment, "Well everyone is good at something. When you find what it is, just stick to it. That's what I'm gonna do. You know if you're lost maybe I could help. My dad got a map with instructions on how to get here." He searched his pockets and came up with a crumpled piece of beige paper. It was a mimeographed copy of a map with a path marked from the interstate exit. "You know your street right?"
"We haven't lived here all that long but even I know that." She replied, smirking at him. They huddled over the map, heads together as they found her street.
"You're only a few blocks away. You go left down at the corner, then strait two blocks, and a right. Two more blocks and you're on your street. From there it's only another block up. If this map is right."
She thanked him, said her goodbyes, and was halfway home before she realized she had never gotten his name. She still had his scarf around her neck as she walked in the front door. The house was still and dark and she moved first to the refrigerator, to get her note. It was lying on the floor, and she started feeling bad all over again. She had spent hours alone and cold and no one had known or even cared. Crumpling the note and throwing it away among the shards of her precious bank, she moved into the living room. She climbed under the brightly lit tree and curled up under its branches crying.
Twenty minutes later, Helen came tearing into the house. Jake followed right on her heels. "My god Helen where could she be? I can't believe we missed her show. Why the hell didn't I get this stupid watch fixed? Lousy cheap piece of sh-
"JAKE! Dammit, we should have called the police right away, Jake, not gone off looking by ourselves. I'm calling them right now. You go get her school picture from the mantle." Helen started dialing frantically as Jake rushed to get the picture. He rushed past her small sleeping form on the way to and from the fireplace before the realization that she was there actually sank in.
Tears formed in his eyes as he looked down at her under the tree, huddled up snoring like a particularly large and pink gift. The lump in his throat made it hard for him to call out to Helen so he rushed in to stop her from calling out the National Guard, and more to the point stop her worries. Still unable to form words, tears streaming, he hung up the phone and pulled Helen to the living room and just pointed. She too was taken at the heart wrenching miracle under the tree. She pulled Jake into the kitchen doorway still watching her baby's chest rise and fall and thanking every deity she could think of for her safe return.
Finally she spoke, "She needs us, Jake. I don't think I could live with myself if we lost her. She's so beautiful, lying there like that. We need to show Quinn how much we love her. Show her just how special she is." They stood there holding each other for a long time.
No one saw the bespectacled little girl who had slipped in quietly just in time to hear how special her sister was, and how much Quinn was loved. She climbed the stairs silently. She crumpled the one hour photo envelope in her hand as she went, and dropped it in the trash. She had sat through the shrill voices and forgotten lines, taking pictures of Quinn; then spent several hours, and a considerable amount of her allowance, to get them developed for her constantly late and forgetful parents. She wouldn't be making that mistake again.