Authors Note: I'm such a spaz. I start freaking out because I haven't updated in so long . . . only to realize it's just scraping by two days. This is fortunate for you, because it means I'm probably always going to opt into updating quickly. A few days seem like torture to me . . . Anyway, read on.
Chapter Two:
Prosperity
My mind was strangely sluggish when I woke up the next morning. Maybe it had something to do with lack of sleep, but the night beforehand had been relatively normal. The same nightmares as always whispered in the back of my head, a haunting chant that chilled me to the bone. Vague tendrils of them still lingered in my thoughts, even as I pushed myself off of the mattress and made my way out into the small hall.
Angel's bed was empty, barren of nothing but the worn wool blanket that occupied the space she once resided in, still molded to her shape. This didn't bother me much, considering she was usually up at ungodly hours anyway.
I tip-toed past the next door, pausing for a heartbeat to listen for the rustle of life inside. All I heard was the low thrumming of the TV, and the occasional spurt of static as the cable stuttered back to life after dying out like it always had, with the poor reception we got. A rancid smell was creeping out from the crack under the bottom of the door, and I stepped back as if the stench was a tangible thing, out to get me.
A sudden blare from the living room broke me from my dream-like state, and I cautiously retreated, ignoring the smoke wafting into the corridor from her room. It didn't matter what time of day it was. Mom was drugged no matter what. I wondered not for the first time if, at this point, she had any sort of concept of time. If she realized it was seven in the morning, and she had hungry children ready for breakfast . . .
Even if she did, the door wouldn't crack open the slightest bit until she needed more substance. She didn't even leave to use the restroom, she just soiled away her bedsheets. The smell probably didn't bother her. There was no way it overcame the rotting of her own hygiene. It probably didn't even breach the drug-induced barrier in her mind.
For all I knew, she was in absolute heaven, wallowing away in her own self-pity.
"Max?" a sleep voice asked. I whirled to find Angel, still in her pajamas, standing in the hall a few feet from me. She was rubbing her eyes and yawning.
"I thought you'd already be awake by now," I said with a small smile, coming to stand in front of her. "You weren't in the room."
"I had to go to the bathroom," she replied, yawning again. I ruffled her blonde curls, and she grinned up at me adorably.
"Do you want to go back to bed?" I asked, steering her towards our room.
She shook her head, planting her feet. "Where's Gazzy?"
"I haven't made it that far yet," I said honestly, shooting a glance at Mom's bedroom door. Angel seemed to sense my discomfort, because she grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm sure he's just watching cartoons."
Just then another crash sounded from the living room, this time clearer and more defined. I rush forwards, Angel following at my heels. I burst out into the open, only to find Gazzy standing in front of the TV, his expression guilty. He was holding a lopsided picture frame, a crack running jaggedly through it's middle.
"Oops," he said to break the silence, grimacing apologetically.
"What did you do?" I sighed.
"Well . . . I was watching TV, and there was this ninja that popped up, and he got into a battle with a pirate . . . and I kind of started mimicking their moves. I didn't mean to kick the picture, I swear! It got in my way, though," he explained hurriedly.
I stared at him for a few more agonizing seconds, my eyes narrowed. He began to squirm uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot. I let him worry a little while longer before I threw my head back and laughed.
"Wha . . . what?" he asked incredulously.
"It's fine Gazzy," I assured him, taking the frame from his hands carefully. The two pieces clicked against each other as I pressed them together. "It's just a picture frame. At least you fessed up to it."
"Yeah, because I didn't have time to hide the evidence," he muttered, slumping back onto the couch in relief. I decided it was best to ignore his comment. You had to pick your battles.
Gazzy was infamous for being responsible for a lot of items that suddenly disappear. Sometimes, he'd rather just be a kid . . . and in those thought-less moments, objects get shattered and torn to shreds. He seemed to forget that we don't live in prosperity. I think we all do every once in awhile.
So in a way Mom's current condition was like a slap in the face when we started to think things weren't too bad.
"Max, I'm hungry," Angel said, tugging at my shirt. I looked down at her, my eyes clouded over for a moment. I shook my head to clear myself of the daze, focusing on her hopeful expression.
"Well let's find you something to eat then," I announced, scooping her up in my arms. She giggled uncontrollably for a minute, wrapping her skinny arms around my neck. I carried her into the kitchen, knowing Gazzy wouldn't be very far behind. We were all bottom-less pits when it came to food.
I rummaged around in the cupboards, scanning the shelves. A few empty cereal boxes later I realized we were running dangerously low on food. I need to go to the grocery, which meant . . .
"Um . . . guys?" I inquired, turning to face them resolutely. Their happy faces fell at the look I was wearing.
"What's wrong?" Gazzy groaned. "You're wearing the 'I'm about to let you down' face."
I didn't stop to ponder this, shoving straight on. "I need to go to the store."
They looked at me in confusion, blinking. I'm sure they didn't quite understand what was so bad about this.
"We can't go shopping today," I explained, biting my lip. "I'm sorry."
I didn't expect them to cry and throw a temper tantrum. I didn't anticipate volatile anger. They were too used to the routine to do that. Instead, they nodded slowly, frowning to themselves. I was always the bearer of bad news.
"That's okay," Angel said after a moment, trying to sound bright. "Maybe next week."
"Yeah," I replied, though I knew it wasn't going to happen. "Maybe."
And maybe Mom will suddenly come to her senses and actually be a loving parent while we're at it, I thought bitterly to myself, though I didn't let the emotion show.
After munching down a few granola bars that I found in the dark recesses of the cupboards, with only minimal complaints about the staleness of them, life resumed as normal. Gazzy soon drifted back to the television, and Angel sat by his side, murmuring softly to her teddy bear, which she clutched protectively under her arm. A small smile graced my lips as I watched them.
The faded and crumbling wallpaper sunk away, and the stained carpet retreated into the dark. The desolate and dirt covered sofa seemed to disappear as well, and all I could see was Gazzy's grin and Angel's soft smile. I captured the moment in my memory forever, knowing that there were very few times when they were so happy and content.
A sharp ringing intercepted my thoughts, and I vaguely recognized it to be the phone. I ignored it for a few moments, but the insistent chirping was distracting my mind, and I finally gave up and rushed to where it was sitting in its cradle.
"Hello?" I answered, just as the machine was picking it up,
"Hello," the woman on the other line said in a friendly tone. "Is Rebecca Ride available to speak?"
"Not at the moment. She's sleeping," I lied effortlessly. "May I take a message?"
"Yes. Would you please tell her that Denise called from Children's Services?"
I spluttered incoherently for a moment, holding the phone away from my mouth so she wouldn't hear. What in the world could they possibly want with us! We haven't been bothered by them for two years. What changed?
"Pardon me," I interrupted, "but what seems to be the problem?"
"A letter was sent out about a month ago that needed immediate returning. We have had no further notice from Rebecca that the information was reciprocated. An emergency examination will be under-way." All of a sudden, her voice wasn't quite as friendly as I had previously thought.
"Wait! We never got that letter," I insisted. "If you send it again, I promise you she'll have it back on time."
Panic was setting in. If they really did send for an examination, we were done for. They'd rip Angel and Gazzy away for sure. This obviously wasn't a fit environment for living. I wasn't even a legal adult yet! I could barely provide for all of us, let alone just myself.
Being stuffed into the system was worse than the current situation though. At least here they were with people that loved them. I shuddered to think about the abuse that they could encounter. I wouldn't stand for it. I promised that I would always keep them safe, and I intended to do so.
I took a deep breath, trying not to arouse suspicion. I didn't want Angel and Gazzy to worry, and I especially didn't want the agent on the phone to take note of my hysteria. Just calm down Max. Everything will be okay, I assured myself.
Denise sighed, and I heard the shuffle of papers on the other line. "I suppose we can do that. If we don't receive a reply by the end of next week though, an agent will be visiting to check everything out. Understand?"
"Thank you," I breathed, internally sighing in relief.
I hung up, dropping my head into my hands. I slid them down my face, sighing. It was a mixture of relief and frustration. I had ensured my siblings safety for just a little while longer.
"Who was that?" Gazzy called over his shoulder, peering up at me in concern.
"No one," I muttered, slamming the phone back onto the hook. I strode across the room, yanking the drawer full of old bills open with enough force to knock the lamp seated on top of the table clean off. I reached out reflexively and caught it with one hand. It balanced precariously there before settling into my palm. I placed it carefully back in its place, glad I didn't have yet another mess to pick up.
I resumed rifling around amongst the papers, peeling each one from the other slowly. I came to a patch of letters dated about a month ago, sticky and glued together with a blue substance. I felt like banging my head against the wall.
In the middle of the cluster was a small envelope with official looking print across its front. I slid my finger under the flap, ripping it open. Inside was a typed letter from the Social Services bureau. It was directed to my mom, asking questions about her current state of welfare.
I tucked it into my pocket, running a hand through my dirty blonde hair. This day couldn't get any worse.
"Is everything okay?" Gazzy asked insistently, his blue eyes wide. I realized maybe for the first time that he was growing up. He wasn't eight years old any more. He was verging on becoming a teenager very soon . . . too soon. He was going to want to know what was going on, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. I couldn't use the 'you're too young' excuse for much longer.
"We'll talk about it later," was what I eventually came up with as a reply.
He nodded, still eyeing me warily. I gave him a strained smile, but he seemed to see right through me. His frown deepened as he turned to address Angel in a quiet voice.
I sighed for the umpteenth time, my feet dragging as I made my way to the bathroom. I just stood and stared at my reflection in the mirror for what seemed like hours. My hair was dull and flat, and my deep brown eyes were life-less. Despite this my expression was fierce.
There was no room in my world for failure. I had to succeed.
Authors Note: Tell me what you thought . . . in a review! (: I love them more than . . . Ah, crap! I can't think of a good comparison. *Failure*..
