Chapter 2: Margie

Margie rolled onto her stomach, pressing her pillow against her head to try and block out the cries of the new kid. They had dropped her off this afternoon and she had been screaming and crying ever since. It wasn't anything new; any new kid that came would cry for the first night at least, some for days. It's not like anyone could blame them. The other kids knew what it was like; they had gone through the exact same thing when they were first brought here. They remembered how they felt; upset, confused, just wanting to go back home to their parents, not knowing what happened to them.

All of the other kids were fast asleep in their beds, having been through this numerous times they were able to block out the noise, Margie, however was cursed with being a light sleeper. She sighed, pressing her pillow against her head as hard as she could as the cries grew louder.

Ms. Candice had been trying to calm Emma for hours. She sat on the bed with her, the child in her lap clinging to her nightdress, her head buried in her chest as she cried. Ms. Candice gently rocked her back and forth while she rubbed small circles on her back.

"I know you're upset, baby, but you need to get some sleep."

"No!" she protested. "I don't wanna sleep here. I wanna go home and sleep in my bed."

"I told you, sweetie, you can't go home. You don't live there anymore." This statement only set the child off into another fit of cries. Ms. Candice sighed, patting the little girl's back with one hand while she gently stroked through her long blonde curls with the other. "Shhh'" she whispered. Suddenly, a figure appeared at the door. Ms. Candice looked up to see a weary eyed Margie coming into the room.

"Hey." She yawned drowsily as she plopped down beside Ms. Candice.

"What are you doing up so late?"

"I can't sleep. Somebody's crying is keeping me up."

"I've been trying to get her to sleep for half the night but nothing's working." They both looked to Emma who was looking back and forth between the two with watery, red eyes as she continued to whine.

"Here," Margie said, reaching her arms out towards Emma. "Let me try something."

Ms. Candice handed the small girl over to Margie who laid her across her lap, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. She then began to slowly rock Emma back and forth and hum quietly. Emma continued to wail in Margie's arms and her hums soon turned into a lullaby.

"Whisper wishes to the starts above

Blow yourself kisses till you feel loved

Tuck yourself in and close your eyes

Pray that they'll come back tonight

I know you're scared but that's okay

I know you will be loved someday

So for right now just say goodnight

And dream of a place far far away from here."

Margie and Ms. Candice smiled down at the sleeping child.

"Nice job." Ms. Candice praised.

"It's no problem." She shrugged shifting Emma off of her lap and gently tucking her under the covers. The two ladies quietly got up and retreated back to their own beds to finally get some sleep themselves.

Margie's POV

(Emma is 5, Margie is 17)

I rush into the grocery store dragging an indifferent Emma behind me. "You just had to wait till last minute to tell me you need to bring in a snack for school today!" I chastise her.

"Sorry." She shrugs. "I forgot." I scoff and roll my eyes. Great, now we're both going to be late and guess who they'll blame? That's right, me. I always have to take the blame for the little kids. I quickly grab a box of individually wrapped fruit snacks. I guess this will have to do. We get in line and I wait anxiously as the cashier rings us up. She is a young pregnant woman, glowing with an over flow of joy as she pats her enormous, round stomach. I notice Emma is staring at the woman strangely. I am about to get onto her about staring at people before she opens her mouth.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" she asks the cashier.

"Yes, sweetie?" she addresses Emma with large smile.

"Did you swallow a watermelon seed or sumin'?" Emma questions a serious expression on her face. The woman laughs kindly before answering.

"Oh, no sweetie, I assure you it's not a watermelon in my stomach, it's a baby."

"YOU ATE A BABY?!" Emma yells in shock. I can feel the eyes of everyone in the store on us. Its times like these I really want to crawl under a rock and hide.

"No I uh um..." the cashier lady stammers unsure how to answer. I grab our bag and throw the money on the counter in one swift movement already taking ahold of Emma's hand and dragging her out of the store before she decides to open her big mouth again.

"No, Margie!" she protests pulling back.

"That's the last time I take you anywhere!" I respond.

"But Margie." She whines "That woman ate a baby!"

"She didn't eat a baby Emma." I sigh. Emma pulls out of my grasp, placing both hands on her hips in a very sassy expression.

"Well then how'd the baby get in her tummy?" she challenges.

"Oh no no." I shake my head. "I'm so not having that conversation with you." Emma takes my refusal to answer as a win on her part.

"Uh huh, that's what I thought!" she exclaims smugly. I roll my eyes at her childish ignorance and grab her arm continuing to pull her as we walk the long trek to school.

I am able to get Emma to her class just before the tardy bell rings. I shout a quick goodbye and run to my class, praying I make it before Mr. Welling notices. I zig zag through the halls the notebooks and folders in my arms hitting against my chest with each step. I finally make it to the door of my homeroom and reach out to turn the knob when it opens suddenly. I collide with the door, the handle pushing against my stomach and knocking me down to the floor. The door continues to swing open until the unhappy and malicious figure of Mr. Welling is seen.

"Well, well, look at what we have here." He looks down at me sprawl across the floor of the hallway. His nose is scrunched and his eyebrows angle down as he stares at me, a look of utter disgust on his face. "Late again Miss Margery, that's the third time this month. I believe that means you'll be spending your weekend in detention." He retreats back into the classroom leaving me to collect myself. I push myself to my feet with a loud groan and begin to gather my things. I curse Emma under my breath for making me late as I walk into the classroom.

After school I walk back to Emma's classroom to pick her up so we can walk home together. The word "home" is used lightly in this case as the place we live hardly resembles the ideal home. It's actually a large foster home for girls. It's meant to be a place where foster girls stay in between foster families or while they wait for a family that has adopted them to pick them up. However, for Emma and me it's become a place we end back up at more frequently than the other girls. My parents died when I was 12 so I never really had a chance. Most foster parents prefer getting the younger, cuter kids so it was hard for me to get into a foster family, especially considering my bad track record. As for Emma, ever since her so-called "parents" un-adopted her she's been kind of a mess. Bedwetting, throwing temper tantrums, sobbing uncontrollably, and refusing to eat, just to name a few. She's been removed from five foster families in her short two years back in the system. They finally decided to put her in counseling to help her with her "problems". Her counselor suggested that she become involved in some sort of extra-curricular activity so she took up ballet. So far it seems to be helping, which is good because she's nearly six, and nobody's going to want a six-year-old who still wets the bed.

Emma emerges from the classroom. Her head is slouched down towards the ground as she shuffles over towards me. I look at her confused and the I see it; clutched in her right hand is a small, red, crumpled up piece of paper.

"What's that?" I question her. She sighs and hands over the slip. I take it from her and began to read over it.

Printed at the top in large bold letters are the words "DISCIPLINARY NOTICE". Underneath are the words written "I have been given the red slip today because I…". It is followed by three black line where the teacher has written the reason.

"Oh no"

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