Part Two: Chapter Two
August 4, 1984
"Is that her?" the voice of a little girl whispered harshly.
Sara groaned and rubbed her eyes gently. Though she had slept, probably for a long time since she could feel sunrays beating down on her neck, it felt like she hadn't slept at all.
"I think so," whispered the voice of a young boy.
She had had a horrible dream. Her parents fights had gotten so heated Laura had actually ended up stabbing Jim! Ha! Even she wasn't that crazy so as to actually kill him. Sara sat up on the bed and opened her eyes, completely prepared to go to the kitchen to fetch some old waffles for breakfast.
"Oh my God!" she shouted, scrambling backwards in the bed. These covers weren't hers, they were pink, and this wasn't her room either, it was pink, and there were three little kids all sitting at the end of her bed staring at her.
There were two identical boys, both with disheveled brown hair and blue eyes, each wearing the same black monster truck pajamas. The little girl had long, messy, curly blond hair and sharp gray eyes, wearing a pink Barbie nightgown. That very girl's eyes widened in shock and she exclaimed bossily, "You said 'Oh my God'. You're not supposed to say that. You're going to get in trouble!" The girl ran out of the room and into the hallway, shouting over and over, "Sara said 'Oh my God'! Sara said 'Oh my God'!"
Sara sat rigid in her bed. It wasn't a dream. Everything she had dreamt had been real. She had woken up and it was going to be like this forever. He was really gone. She stared ahead at the door where the little girl, who she assumed was Meg, had run out of earlier. Emotion came pouring back to her but she gulped her tears back.
The two boys, no doubt Mike and Taylor, were whispering excitedly with each other, throwing Sara scheming glances.
"Hey, you are Sara right?" one of the boys asked, breaking out of the conversation.
Sara nodded.
"Mom told us about you. She said your d—"
The other boy quickly clapped his hand over the others mouth. The other continued rambling through the muffler.
"Mom said we weren't supposed to talk about it," the boy hissed. He took his hand off his brother (who then stuck his tongue out) and turned to Sara. "Do you want to help us rip some of Meg's doll's heads off?"
"What?" Sara exclaimed, quite taken by surprise. "No! It's messy enough in here as it is!" She climbed out of bed and Mike and Taylor scrambled down as well.
"Are you sure? It'd be fun!"
"Which is Mike and which is Taylor?" Sara asked, pointing at each of them, rubbing her forehead. The pressure of the past day was causing a horrible headache.
The boy who had clapped his hand over the others mouth, smiled broadly, and stated, "I'm Taylor. This is Mike. You can tell us apart because Mike has a scar over his right eye from when he fell down the stairs once."
Mike beamed and gestured at the scar. There were several spaces in his smile where he had lost teeth. Taylor's mouth was the same, though in different places. Sara was beginning to wonder if those teeth were lost due to the tooth fairy or their own antics.
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be tearing your sister's doll's heads off." Sara muttered, picking up her sheets and beginning to make her bed.
"What are you doing?" Mike asked confusedly, staring at Sara as she arranged her covers.
"Making my bed," Sara said as though obvious. What, didn't he make his own bed? She brushed her thought aside. Assuming by the state of this house, he probably hadn't even seen someone do any such thing.
"Why?" Taylor asked, innocently holding his hands behind his back, watching Sara curiously as she worked.
"Because it keeps things neat and tidy." Sara muttered, fluffing her pillow as a final touch. The boys looked over at the newly made bed and a certain greedy look took them.
"Oh no…" Sara whispered under her breath. Instantly the two boys scrambled back onto the bed, then proceeded to hop vigorously up and down, sending the newly flattened sheets every which way.
"No!" Sara moaned, reaching out to the boys and tossing them from the bed to the pile of stuffed animals on the floor.
"Wee!" Mike shrieked as he flopped onto the squishy mound. "Do it again!" he cried gleefully.
"Yeah, Sara! Do it again!" Taylor agreed.
"I can't," Sara muttered though gritted teeth. "I have to make my bed."
Mike raised an eyebrow at her, "No you don't. We don't have to."
"Well, I know," Sara stammered, "But I…I want to, so there."
"Mom says we can't do everything we want." Taylor contradicted.
"Trust me; your mom would want me to do this."
"She's your mom now too though! You can call her Mom!" Mike said.
The rest of the conversation was interrupted as Meg shuffled back into the room, head hung, hair draping her face.
"What's wrong Meg?" Mike asked, leaning over the back of a giant stuffed bear.
"Mom said I was in trouble if Sara was in trouble because I said it more than once."
"Why would you be mean and tattle on Sara on her first day home anyway?" Taylor exclaimed, mimicking his brother by leaning back.
"Because—" But the rest of her words were unheard as Mike and Taylor each grabbed hold of a different stuffed animal and dashed past Meg, giggling manically. Meg screeched and ran after them, her hair, and nightgown flying out behind her as she dashed down the stairs. Sara sighed heavily and went back to making her bed. When she finished she quickly changed into some fresh clothes, in the closet, after discovering irritably there was no lock on her bedroom door.
She pulled a book from her duffel bag, stuck it under her arm, and strode briskly out the door, only for the door to make contact with something on the other side.
"Ow!" cried a boy, teenager probably, from the other side. "Meg! Be careful!" Sara peeked out from behind the door to spot a thin, slightly muscled teenager wearing a black shirt and jeans. His hair was black as well, dyed probably, and his eyes were dark brown.
"You're not Meg," he stated, dumbfounded. Suddenly a look of comprehension dawned on his face, "Oh you must be Sara, the new kid…sister, you might say. The Nelson's adopt half the kids that come through here. I'm Derek by the way,"
He grinned down at her and Sara returned it.
"Uh—Are you all right?" she asked nervously.
"Yeah, pretty much. You hit my nose." He rubbed it comically.
Sara grinned again, painfully, for her current grief was screaming at her to stop being happy. Derek cleared his throat then asked, "Have you met Meg, Mike, and Taylor yet?"
Sara rolled her eyes, "I wish I hadn't. I woke up and they were gawking at me like fish."
Derek laughed.
"You get used to it after a while."
"Can you believe Mike and Taylor didn't know what making your bed was?" Sara exclaimed.
"Actually…I can. I know it's sad, but I can. This place is mess. Unlike my room of course," He gestured back at his graffitied door. "It's nearly spotless in there. You hungry?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sara said through a smile. She tossed the book back on her bed for safekeeping. She liked him already, just as Jill had said she would, and she liked the…well, the adults…like Diane had said.
Apparently, to Jill, a cleaning sweep was taking everything off the floor and putting it somewhere else, whether it be piling it into an overflowing toy-box, or onto the couches, chairs, and anything else with a surface big enough to support the piles of playthings. Sara, Derek, Meg, and the twins were sitting at the table, bacon, and eggs adorning its top. They were all eating except for Sara who was picking at her food distractedly.
"Eat up Sara. You aren't the chubbiest of the bunch. You need to eat." muttered Jill, phone on her shoulder, earpiece to her ear. "Yeah Beth…Mhmm…Oh she's so sweet…one of these days…probably scared her half to death…"
"Mom's always talking on the phone," mumbled Derek to Sara.
"Mom!" cried Meg. "Derek's whispering at the table!" She leaned in and hissed bossily, "Mom said it's rude to whisper at the table."
"Then you should stop whispering. You don't want to get in trouble do you?" Derek retorted.
Meg narrowed her eyes and sat back in her seat, later declaring she wasn't hungry and that she was going to her room.
"Meg's really bossy," Mike muttered through a mouthful of bacon.
Sara's lips curled in disgust, leaving her even less apt to eat.
"You have to learn how to either ignore her or get back at her. She's quite the hypocrite." Derek added. "You do know what a hypocrite is, don't you?"
Sara nodded. "Of course I do, what do you take me for, a third grader?"
"What, you learned that in third grade?"
"First."
Derek smirked and continued eating his eggs.
A few minutes later, the supposed Mr. Nelson walked into the room, straightening a tie over his chest and combing his remaining hair neatly.
Sara braced herself for the moment when somebody would throw in a snide comment or maybe even start yelling.
"I'm going to work!" he declared vociferously.
"See ya later Dad!" the others cried in unison. Mr. Nelson swept over to his wife, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then stopped short just as he was about to leave. He turned on his heel and stared at Sara.
"Meg!" he exclaimed in false surprise, "You've grown! Look how tall you are now! And…my are you thin…and your hair! Have you been dying it without telling us?" He let out a hearty laugh and the other boys chuckled along with him. "I'm just kidding. You must be Sara."
He reached out a hand and shook Sara's forcefully, his large sausage like fingers swamping her long thin ones. He was rather large with thinning curly black hair, glasses, a goatee and mustache, and beady brown eyes that laughed along with him. He was currently wearing a black business suit and tie.
"I suppose you've met everyone besides me, huh?" he said, patting her hand happily. "Well, now we've met and I have to go otherwise I'll be late for work." He leaned in to her ear and whispered, "You can call me 'dad'" with particular emphasis on 'dad'.
"I'd…rather not." Sara whispered quietly, a slight whimper in her voice.
"Oh yes, that's right. Barney then,"
"Dad, your name isn't Barney," muttered Derek.
"I know that. But she doesn't. Well, she does now, but…okay then fine. Call me Frankie." He checked his watch and then muttered a final goodbye.
Sara gawked after him as he left. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, analyzing her shocked composure.
"Yeah, I know. He scared Meg half to death when she first came here at age two. Wouldn't stop crying for hours, kept saying the big fat man was crazy." Derek mumbled finishing off a final swig of orange juice. Jill glared at him.
"Her words not mine,"
But that wasn't the real reason Sara sat stock-still. These people got along just fine. There had been no arguing, no fighting, no punching, no slapping, no…anything. Just a kiss on the cheek…a kiss.
Sara excused herself from the table, not a bite of food taken, cleared her spot respectfully (receiving many strange looks from Mike and Taylor in the process) and walked briskly up the stairs to her room. She needed to think. She needed to make the best out of her situation and to do that she needed to plan it out, 'it' meaning the rest of her life.
She opened the door and strode straight through the sea of toys towards her bed, but stopped mid walk when she heard some quiet sniffling coming from the closet. Sara was going to grab a book from her duffel bag to help her think, she could always think better whilst reading, but someone (most likely Meg) was crying.
She opened the closet door to reveal, as suspected, Meg, curled up in a ball in the bottom of the closet. She was lying on a pile of blankets, Sara noticed had been taken from Meg's bed.
"What are you doing in the closet Meg?" she asked exasperatedly.
"Hiding,"
"From what?"
"Everyone."
The little girl reached up, grabbed the doorknob, and closed the closet again.
"I found you. You have to come out now."
"You didn't knock! It doesn't count! Mom says you have to knock!"
Sara rolled her eyes and knocked on the door.
"Will you come out now?"
The door creaked open and Meg stood quietly in the doorway, head still hung, as it was earlier that morning.
"Why were you hiding?" Sara asked quietly, bending down to Meg's level. Okay so she was completely bossy and annoying, but she was cute…in an irritating…little five-year-old kind of way.
"Because everyone hates me." Meg muttered, avoiding Sara's gaze.
Sara looked down to the ground quietly then back up at Meg.
"I don't hate you."
"Yes you do."
"No I don't." Sara hated her mom, not some bossy five-year-old. She hated her mom for everything she ever did to her. She killed her father. She doubted his words. She doubted the trust that's supposed to be there when people love each other.
"Yes you do," Meg insisted interrupting Sara's thoughts.
"Why would I hate you?"
"The same reason everyone else does."
"And what would that be?"
"I'm too bossy."
"So was I when I was your age." It was a lie…or at least half a lie. She had no idea if she was bossy at age five. Her parents never got around to telling her all about her childhood. Meg was quiet and remained stationary.
"Why don't you come out of the closet." Sara muttered, holding out a hand. Meg took it reluctantly. Sara pulled her to herself, lifted her up, and placed Meg on her neatly made bed.
"Can you remember your parents?" Meg asked when Sara sat down next to her.
Sara blanked out for a few seconds before answering with a quick nod.
"Were you with someone else before you came here?"
"I was…with my parents."
"Oh," She looked away towards the mess covering the floor. She then questioned Sara again, "Were they nice?"
Sara bit her tongue anxiously, then spoke. "For awhile, yeah." She needed to change the topic. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Look at this mess,"
"I heard you cry last night. Do you dream about them?"
Sara stared at Meg, who stared back, her piercing gray eyes seemingly drilling into Sara's.
"Do you?" Meg insisted.
Sara glanced away at the ground and felt herself flinch inside at the mess. Maybe if she just answered her questions they would get around to making the room hospitable.
"Yeah, I dream about them." Sara mumbled, refusing to look at Meg.
"Why were you crying?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
Sara glared at Meg.
"Because it was a sad dream."
"What was it about?"
"What's with all the questions?" Sara pleaded loudly, standing on the floor instead of sitting on the bed. "Look, if you really want to know, my dad is dead and my mom is going to jail for killing him all right? Do you get it? That's why I was crying, that's what I was dreaming about, and right about now I just want to make it all go away!"
The words had become steadily louder to the point Sara was yelling. Meg cowered as Sara kicked a doll to the wall, leaving a dent in its plastic head. After the loud clunk, Sara sat down, put her head in her arms, and sobbed. She cried for her mom, for her dad, for Clara, for herself, for her current life, for her past life, and now she continued to cry for scaring Meg out of her wits.
"Sara?" came a curious voice from the doorway. The door opened and Derek peeked past the side of it into the room.
"Derek you didn't knock!" exclaimed Meg harshly.
"Meg, why don't you go tattle on me for a bit okay? I think Sara wants to be alone. See look, tattle on me! I didn't knock!"
Meg stuck out her lip in a pout, scrambled down from the bed, then walked past Derek, though she did manage to stick her tongue out to make a point. Derek returned the gesture then entered the room and closed the door behind him.
Sara sat curled up in a little ball on the floor, tears falling as though no end, and sobs escaping every few seconds. Derek strode over to her then sat down next to her on the ground. He was silent for a few minutes, waiting for Sara to calm down. When her sobs managed to slim down to two every five minutes, he spoke.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Sara rocking back and forth, now slightly in control of herself, wiping tears away, managed to speak to Derek.
"It all happened yesterday." She hiccupped and held her breath for a couple of seconds. "One minute they were arguing, the next I noticed a knife missing and he was dead." A sob escaped and Derek placed a loving arm around her shoulders.
"It's all right. You'll like it here, I'm sure."
"And that's another thing!" Sara mumbled through her sobs. "I do like it here, but it's so different I need a really long time to adjust. I can't go from living in hate to living like this in one day." Derek gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder.
"Do you want to know why I'm here?" he asked, looking down at her. She looked up at him and muttered a soft 'Why?'
"My parents are both dead. Died in a car crash, and I was there with them. I lived, they didn't, end of story. Now I'm here." He gestured at the room. "Well, not here specifically. I'd die if I had to sleep in this room." Sara chuckled slightly, leading only to another hiccup and sob. She felt better, she had to admit. There was something about the cool collected way Derek talked that was in itself comforting.
"I think the best thing to do, is to put it behind you. If someone asks you about it and you don't want to tell them, simply say 'they're on an extended leave' or 'I never knew my parents'. They'll leave it at that. You don't need to get all worked up." He ruffled her hair and Sara smiled. Her tears were scarce now, though her face was quite damp, and her sobs had almost disappeared.
"Will you help me clean my room?" Sara asked, using her shirt to dry her face quickly.
"It is rather messy isn't it?"
"And I think Junior over there needs brain surgery," Sara muttered, pointing at the doll she had thrown earlier, a small chuckle escaping. "I'm not a very nice mom."
A/N: Guess What! I Aced my Spanish Exam! Woohoo! I was so happy I decided to treat you guys with my longest chapter yet! Give me some tips please. Does it seem like I'm rushing it at all? Any favorite parts yet? I love opinion!
