A/N: another flash back. They aren't told in order, so flash backs may skip
from when Angel was ten to when he was three to when he was fifteen. Don't
worry, I'll warn you.
Chapter Four
ANGEL
* Flashback to when he first met Sara and Jordan (he was six) *
To say that I didn't want to go into that house is the understatement of the century. I would have cut my right arm off to avoid that place. I would have literally had to because that was the arm that the social worker, Mrs. Brightly (no joke, it * was * her name) was pulling on as she dragged me, screaming bloody murder, up the cracked, weedy path to the sagging porch.
"Angel, * please * stop this! It's just a foster home!"
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! I DON'T WANNA GOOOO!!!" I wailed. I was *scared * I'd never been in a foster home before. I wanted my mother. "I WANT MY MAMI!!!"
"You'll see her again * soon * Angel, I promise! She's just sick. You'll see her when she feels better."
"NO! WHY CANT I STAY AT HOME I DON'T WANNA GO HERE!" I bawled. But by then it was too late, Mrs. Brightly had dragged me onto the porch, which creaked and groaned in protest, and was knocking brusquely on the door. Not that she needed to, I'm sure my screaming had tipped anyone inside off that, yes, we had arrived.
A thin, mean looking woman with a long, make up caked face and a nasty scar running along the left side of her jaw peeled the door open. A wailing baby sat on her right hip and pulled at the strands of brittle looking praroxided hair that hung down from her messy bun. Two dark haired kids peeked out from behind her.
"Hello, Mrs. Brightly!" she gushed, "How are * you *? And who is this handsome young man?" her voice didn't fit the rest of her. It was so sunny and friendly. Like the host of a Saturday morning kid's show.
"Jane, this is Angel Juan Torres." She said, shoving me gently toward the woman.
"Why hellooooo Angel, I'm Miss. Jane. It's soooooo nice to seeeeeeee you!"
It was not nice to see her. Her house smelled like ten years of cooking, all stale and moist and horrible.
"Come * in * Angel, and meet Jordan and Sara and little Anton." She poked the sobbing baby in the stomach with a sharp, stick on nail, which only made him cry harder.
I shuffled into the dark little house and stared at the two kids in front of me. They were obviously related. They shared the same dull, velvety black hair, pale skin, round green eyes and pointed chins. The boy looked about eight, the girl six, my age.
"Angel ain't a boys name." Said the boy.
"Yes it is." I protested, lots of boys in El Bronx were named Angel.
"It a * Spanish * name, butt head." said the girl, "I'm Sara do you want to be my sister?"
"I'm a boy." I reminded her.
"Yes but I already * got * a brother. Jordan's my brother." She jerked her chin at the boy, "I want a sister too. We can pretend."
I shrugged, didn't seem so bad to me, "Okay. Are you my sister then? Or am I only yours? And is Jordan my brother too? Are we sharing?"
Sara burst into laughter, "Angel you funny!"
But I was serious. "Are we sharring?"
"Yes." said Jordan. "Let's go in the back yard."
Three minutes later found us sitting in a half dead apple tree, throwing an old tennis ball to each other.
"Listen," said Sara, "Never * ever * go into Mr. Ralph's room at night. He Ms. Jane's brother and he's meaner than she is. He gonna ask. He gonna say 'Now little boy, why don't you sleep in my room so if you gets a nightmare you wont be scared.' But you gotta say no, you ain't get a nightmare. You * don't * go in that room. Got it?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because!" Jordan yelled. He looked really angry and he wasn't throwing the ball, just clutching it really hard.
"It's a bad room. There are shadow wolves under the bed and in the walls and the corners where there ain't no moon light and they come out and do bad stuff."
I was scared now. "You're lying."
"Am not! AM NOT! Promise you, heaven true Angel. There ARE shadow wolves in Mr. Ralph's room so you can't go in there."
I nodded. I believed her. Their faces.they looked scared.
"I promise not to go in, and if the shadow wolves come out tonight I'll kill them. I'll feed them garlic and baked beans and they get so much gas they blow up!"
Jordan started to laugh and laugh. "You're so funny Angel! You're so funny!"
A/N: well? Bad or good? Review please! Help me make this better!
Chapter Four
ANGEL
* Flashback to when he first met Sara and Jordan (he was six) *
To say that I didn't want to go into that house is the understatement of the century. I would have cut my right arm off to avoid that place. I would have literally had to because that was the arm that the social worker, Mrs. Brightly (no joke, it * was * her name) was pulling on as she dragged me, screaming bloody murder, up the cracked, weedy path to the sagging porch.
"Angel, * please * stop this! It's just a foster home!"
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! I DON'T WANNA GOOOO!!!" I wailed. I was *scared * I'd never been in a foster home before. I wanted my mother. "I WANT MY MAMI!!!"
"You'll see her again * soon * Angel, I promise! She's just sick. You'll see her when she feels better."
"NO! WHY CANT I STAY AT HOME I DON'T WANNA GO HERE!" I bawled. But by then it was too late, Mrs. Brightly had dragged me onto the porch, which creaked and groaned in protest, and was knocking brusquely on the door. Not that she needed to, I'm sure my screaming had tipped anyone inside off that, yes, we had arrived.
A thin, mean looking woman with a long, make up caked face and a nasty scar running along the left side of her jaw peeled the door open. A wailing baby sat on her right hip and pulled at the strands of brittle looking praroxided hair that hung down from her messy bun. Two dark haired kids peeked out from behind her.
"Hello, Mrs. Brightly!" she gushed, "How are * you *? And who is this handsome young man?" her voice didn't fit the rest of her. It was so sunny and friendly. Like the host of a Saturday morning kid's show.
"Jane, this is Angel Juan Torres." She said, shoving me gently toward the woman.
"Why hellooooo Angel, I'm Miss. Jane. It's soooooo nice to seeeeeeee you!"
It was not nice to see her. Her house smelled like ten years of cooking, all stale and moist and horrible.
"Come * in * Angel, and meet Jordan and Sara and little Anton." She poked the sobbing baby in the stomach with a sharp, stick on nail, which only made him cry harder.
I shuffled into the dark little house and stared at the two kids in front of me. They were obviously related. They shared the same dull, velvety black hair, pale skin, round green eyes and pointed chins. The boy looked about eight, the girl six, my age.
"Angel ain't a boys name." Said the boy.
"Yes it is." I protested, lots of boys in El Bronx were named Angel.
"It a * Spanish * name, butt head." said the girl, "I'm Sara do you want to be my sister?"
"I'm a boy." I reminded her.
"Yes but I already * got * a brother. Jordan's my brother." She jerked her chin at the boy, "I want a sister too. We can pretend."
I shrugged, didn't seem so bad to me, "Okay. Are you my sister then? Or am I only yours? And is Jordan my brother too? Are we sharing?"
Sara burst into laughter, "Angel you funny!"
But I was serious. "Are we sharring?"
"Yes." said Jordan. "Let's go in the back yard."
Three minutes later found us sitting in a half dead apple tree, throwing an old tennis ball to each other.
"Listen," said Sara, "Never * ever * go into Mr. Ralph's room at night. He Ms. Jane's brother and he's meaner than she is. He gonna ask. He gonna say 'Now little boy, why don't you sleep in my room so if you gets a nightmare you wont be scared.' But you gotta say no, you ain't get a nightmare. You * don't * go in that room. Got it?"
"Why?" I asked.
"Because!" Jordan yelled. He looked really angry and he wasn't throwing the ball, just clutching it really hard.
"It's a bad room. There are shadow wolves under the bed and in the walls and the corners where there ain't no moon light and they come out and do bad stuff."
I was scared now. "You're lying."
"Am not! AM NOT! Promise you, heaven true Angel. There ARE shadow wolves in Mr. Ralph's room so you can't go in there."
I nodded. I believed her. Their faces.they looked scared.
"I promise not to go in, and if the shadow wolves come out tonight I'll kill them. I'll feed them garlic and baked beans and they get so much gas they blow up!"
Jordan started to laugh and laugh. "You're so funny Angel! You're so funny!"
A/N: well? Bad or good? Review please! Help me make this better!