All of the characters and story lines and everything else I can think of are the property of DC comics and the WB network. The only bits that're mine are the words and the voice.
Chapter 6: Anticipation
It was moments like this one that Barbara wished she had use of her legs. She desperately needed to pace. Rolling back and forth just didn't satisfy the urge. Wheeling into the kitchen, she opened the fridge and peered in. She closed the fridge. Filling the teakettle, she set it on the stove, but did not turn it on. She opened the fridge again, selecting nothing. She closed it.
Damn. It had to be Thursday. Couldn't be a weekend, when Dick'd be around. Barbara opened the fridge again and stared at the contents. She heaved an enormous sigh. She hoped she was doing the right thing.
Anyway…it was too late to back out now. There was no way she'd do that to this kid. Barbara was a teacher. The kids from Northside Christian Children's Home attended New Gotham High, and Barbara had gotten to know several of them through classes and extracurricular activities. More than once, she'd cursed the system, as her Northside kids' foster placements fell through at the last minute, crushing their hopes, breaking their hearts. Even when they got placed, some of them got bounced around the system, living in foster home after foster home, experiencing so much rejection and loss, it was a wonder they could function at all.
A kid wasn't a puppy that you could take back to the pound if it peed on the carpet or a dress that you could return to Macy's if it didn't fit right. Barbara never understood why people didn't get that. If you were going to do it, you had to be willing to commit to it—to weigh it out and make an informed decision, and then stick to it. No backsies on the deal. The heart of a young human being was at stake.
Well, she'd thought about it, all right. She'd researched it carefully. She'd spoken with Helena's caseworker, and she'd also hacked into DCFS's system and read every single thing in Helena's confidential file, as well as the police report and the few pieces of information she could glean from Northside's files. She'd also searched out every school Helena had ever attended—even overseas—and read every computerized piece of information she could gather, from grades to behavior reports. She was determined that there would be no surprises. The only thing she hadn't been able to do was meet Helena.
No matter. The decision was made. Barbara was in this for the long haul. No turning back, now.
Barbara closed the fridge.
**********
If that damn social worker asked her one more time how she felt about going to a new foster home, Helena was going to sock her. She slouched in the passenger seat scowling out the side window, watching the raindrops shattering into bits as they hit. How was she feeling? What the hell did this lady want from her, anyway? Did she really want to know how Helena was feeling, or was that a question she asked every foster kid? Part of the routine…play the sympathetic listener. They probably taught you that at social worker school.
Helena glanced over and saw that the woman next to her was still waiting for an answer. She turned back to the window.
"Fine." Pretty damn far from fine, Lady. Not that I'd give you the satisfaction of knowing it.
Helena was pleased to see that her answer had not satisfied the woman, who cleared her throat and tried again. "It's okay to be nervous, you know."
"I'm not nervous." Pissed off, maybe. Trapped, definitely. But not nervous. I don't give a damn about this lady whose place I'm going to. Won't be there long, anyway. They can't make me stay.
But they could. It was this or jail…her caseworker had made that clear. She'd been charged with numerous shoplifting charges and was a runaway. On top of that, she'd punched the fat rent-a-cop in the mall, destroyed several aisles worth of merchandise, and inadvertently bruised a couple of shoppers making her escape. She'd also stolen a vehicle (which she'd crashed, owing to the fact she'd never driven before), destroyed city property, resisted arrest, and assaulted a city cop—actually, several cops. Helena grinned at the memory. Two of 'em would remember her for awhile…oh, yeah! The grin faded as she remembered the consequences of that little altercation. If she broke probation once, just once, that was it. Back in the cage.
Helena would rather die than spend one more minute caged. Whether she wanted it or not, she was stuck here for nine months. But after that…
Helena was so outa there!
And, in the meantime, all Helena had to do was survive. No big deal…she was used to surviving. She supposed she'd have to be back in School, but she'd gone to New Gotham High her freshman year, so that at least wasn't new. It would suck living with a teacher, though—especially Ms. Gordon. Helena'd never had Ms. Gordon, who only taught Juniors and Seniors, but the whole school knew her reputation. She was tough.
Well, so was Helena. She'd show this Ms. Gordon a thing or two. Anyway, Helena could handle tough. Nice, on the other hand…nice, she had a problem with. This lady'd better not go and get all maternal on her. Helena wasn't about to let anyone waltz into her life and take the place…anyway, this lady just better keep her distance!
The car slowed as Mrs. Whatshername looked for parking on the busy street. Helena spied a space over by the bank, but she kept her mouth shut. Let the lady look for awhile—Helena was in no hurry. She was secretly pleased when they had to drive around the block again. The knot in her stomach didn't start to form until the car had been meticulously parallel parked and they were standing in the rain on the sidewalk in front of New Gotham's clock tower. Then, it hit, smashing like a tidal wave, the reality of her situation washing over her soul, flooding every sense with…what was it?
Fear. Absolute terror.
Oh God. OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod.
For an eternal moment, Helena stood, gut mercilessly twisting, hovering precariously close to bursting into frantic tears, staring up at the tower which she would now be forced to call home. And she might have done it, too—burst into tears, except for that Mrs. Whatshername chose that moment to place a hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay to be scared. Everyone feels scared at first."
Helena jerked away, as a surge of anger coursed through her with such force, it nearly tore her apart. Her eyes flashed, pupils changing to catlike slits, as she lashed out at the social worker. "Leave me the hell alone, bitch. You can't read my mind, so stop pretending you know how I feel!" She spun, gripping her suitcase with such vigor, her knuckles were completely white, and strode quickly toward the entry. "Let's get this bullshit over with. I'm getting bored with waiting," she tossed back over her shoulder.
The social worker followed, choosing not to make an issue of Helena's behavior. Silently, the two entered the building's elevator, pushing the button for the top floor, the one just below the clockfaces. The elevator opened onto an entry, from which Helena, slouching against the back of the elevator, could see the doors of two apartments. Without a word or a glance at Helena, the social worker exited the elevator, making her way to the right hand door, the side facing the bay. Reluctantly, Helena followed, making her way to the door and slouching against the wall just to the side of the frame.
"Helena, stand up straight and at least try to look friendly. You never get a second chance to make a first impression," ordered the social worker.
Who the hell cares? Helena drew her eyebrows down and scowled the fiercest, most defiant scowl she had ever made in her life, pupils becoming catlike once again. At that precise moment, the door swung open.
