House MD is not, and will never be, my property. Unless there's an offer on EBay….
My name is Alana Kennedy and I am a genius. In all modesty of course. I like to think of myself as an anthropologist, someone who studies the human race. I see the relationships between lovers, families, and animals. But I notice families more often.
So one morning when I got up from my bed and stumbled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, my mind was on people. More specifically, my father.
I've never met my father, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't met me. All I know about him is what my mother told me: his eyes are exactly like mine, he's a doctor, and he's as shiny as an apple. I'm not really sure how the last one is relevant, but my mom told me all of this stuff before she died of William's Syndrome last summer.
She was a little weird in the head before she died, so I'm 98.4% sure that the last thing isn't true. I think about my father a lot. When I was little, I used to imagine him as a businessman who was always away on some trip, talking to the President and drinking mineral water on Air Force 1.
Hey, what can I say? I was an imaginative little tyke. Several heavy knocks on the door made me jump about a foot in the air, effectively startling me out of my morning reverie. The coffee spilt a little, burning my skin. I hissed a curse under my breath.
"Haven't you people heard of this brilliant new invention? It's called a goddamn watch!" I yelled as I strode to the door, putting on an especially intimidating face.
When I flung open the door, I was expecting a swarm of Girl Scouts, or perhaps if I was really unfortunate, one of those Witness religion morons. What I was not expecting was a short (by my standards) brunette woman in a black power suit. She wore a ponytail, and her low cut shirt accented her cleavage ever so slightly. She also carried a clipboard with several form-like papers attached.
"Uh." I said. Yeah. Real smooth. I shook my head, adjusting rapidly to the surprise. "Who the hell are you?"
She looked startled at my crude greeting, but quickly regained her composure. "I am Jennifer Brown, you must be-" she checked her clipboard. "Alana Kennedy."
I narrowed my eyes, looking down at her. "Who wants to know?"
Jennifer took a deep breath. "Ms. Kennedy, I am a social worker, and I'm here to inquire about your current living status. Is there an adult of whom I can speak with?"
I kept a straight face. If this lady was as stupid as she looked, I might have a chance of fooling her.
"Sorry, you like, just missed her. Mom just went out to get groceries. " I spared a glance at the calendar hanging in the kitchen. "Thursday morning is grocery day." The social worker looked anxious, little creases formed between her eyebrows.
"Oh, well, maybe if I could just step in for a moment." She peered around my shoulder, into the living room. I could see how she took note of the empty shot glass and the half eaten sandwich on the coffee table. I stepped in front of her, an evasive maneuver.
"All right then. If you give me your number, I can hand the number to mom when she gets back. And until then-" I made to close the door. She jammed her foot in the frame.
"Ms. Kennedy, I really must insist." She pushed on the door and I shoved back.
Suddenly her face looked blurry around the edges. I stepped back as my eyes unfocused, stumbling a bit before catching my balance.
"Ms. Kennedy? Ms. Kennedy!" Jennifer yelled as I sunk to the floor.
"I… don't feel too… great…" The last thing I saw was the social worker's frantic face as she reached for the phone.
And then I passed out.
