Saige was fourteen. She was standing in front of the mirror, trying to decide which way to part her hair.
“Saige! Hurry up, we have to be at the courthouse in half an hour!” Jessica called to her daughter from the other room.
It had been a year since they’d left her father. They hadn’t seen him since. Saige had heard rumours that he’d run of with the whore down the street to Vancouver or some other far away place. But, apparently, he’d been tracked down to attend a custody hearing. She’d been reading over old diary entries from when they had been divorced. It revived her hatred of her father once again, and she burned with rage. But then it faded, and she longed to see him again. She had so many questions to ask him.
When they’d left she’d only been angry. Now she was confused, and numb to any feelings that went along with the divorce process. She felt nothing. She parted her hair in the middle, the same way she always did.
She started down the hall and saw her mom standing by the front door of their apartment, putting on her shoes.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes…why?”
“Honey! Don’t you want to look nice for your father?”
“What do I care?” Saige shrugged nonchalantly.
Jessica groaned, “You have to look good to go to court, baby. That’s just the way it is. Besides, don’t you want him to see what a beautiful young woman you’ve become?”
“If I’m already beautiful, there should be no problem.” She broke away from her mother and grabbed her old runners. “I don’t know why you’re going through all this trouble.” She said as she laced hem up. “It’s not like he cares about us.”
Jessica just looked up and frowned at her daughter, watching her as she tied her shoes.
“Name, please.” The woman sitting behind the courthouse desk was overweight, with bright orange hair and oversized glasses. Her voice was nasal and rude as she asked her mother why she was here.
“Jessica…Math—” she stopped herself from saying ‘Mathers’. She had changed back to her maiden name, “Cook, Jessica Cook.” She corrected herself.
“Ah yes, courtroom 3?”
“That’s right…”
“You’re early…the hearing will proceed as soon as Mr. Mathers gets here. If you’ll just go sit down…” She pointed at the hard wooden bench in the hallway across from the courtroom doors.
“Yea…” Jessica sighed. She led Saige over to the bench and they sat down.
“He’ll be late,” Saige said, more to herself than anyone else. “He’s always late.”
Her mother said nothing, but Saige could see a reflection of hidden doubts in her eyes.
Saige ignored it and looked at the clock across the hall. It was half past three in the afternoon. Several other hearings were happening as well, and there were lots of people to keep her occupied until her father got there.
People filed in and out of the courthouse, and Saige kept her eyes open, looking to spot him. None were her father. Soon, she found herself growing tired, and leaning against the arm of the bench. Looking up at the clock, she saw it was now 4:45. She sighed and sank lower into the bench.
5:30, her eyelids were growing heavy.
6:15, her stomach growled at her. She hadn’t eaten since noon.
She looked up at her mother. It looked to her like Jessica hadn’t moved an inch since they’d arrived. Her face was stern. Saige was annoyed, and angry.
Finally, at eight o’clock, Jessica stood up and looked down at her daughter. “Come on Saige. He’s not coming. We should go.”
Saige just nodded, keeping her rage to herself. She’d just wasted an entire afternoon, foolishly waiting for her father to come back and say that he wanted her. That he loved her.
But he didn’t love her at all. He wanted nothing to do with them. That much was clear.
When she got home, she ran to her room and threw herself on the bed. She began furiously pounding her pillow, angry tears tearing at her throat. She punched and cried until her face was red and she was exhausted, then she finally collapsed. Saige pulled the pillow over her face, ashamed of the tears that were running down her face.
He had brought her, her, to tears! He would pay for that! If she never saw him again it would be too soon.
She vented on her pillow again, but was still angry, so she ripped out her diary from it’s hiding place under her mattress. She began to write…
It was snowing in North Bay, not light, fluffy powder flake, a fierce gale of wind and icy chunks came in from all angles, pounding furiously against the clumsily build building. A small fire crackled in the hearth in the living area, with two or three young children huddled around it.
From down the long hall, the administrator was yelling at someone on the phone. A lone boy of only ten was sitting on the bottom step, right by the front of the door. The words of the administrator burned in his ears.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with this kid?” He cried. “He’s already eleven years old! The only people that come through here are looking for babies! I’ll be stuck with him until he’s eighteen!” He paused as he listened to the voice.
“I know this is the only group home in the area but…” He stopped again, and the boy dug his fingernails into his knees, trying to hold back tears. He remembered the last thing his father had said to him, a warm smile illuminating his features, “Boys don’t cry…”
He squeezed his eyes shut and repeated his words, “Boys don’t cry…boys don’t cry…”
“And what about all those burns! No one wants a deformed brat like him!”
He could hardly take it anymore, he was just about ready to turn and run. But he didn’t know anyone there, and he was all alone. No one loved him here; he wasn’t wanted. He was just another parentless brat.
He wanted his mother, but she was gone. He knew, because every time he closed his eyes, he saw her body being consumed in flames. His home up in smoke; flames dancing and licking wickedly among the ruins. Then they turned on him. Orange and yellow chains, coming to capture him, pull him in. He tried to run; he tried to scream, but his muscles wouldn’t react. Just like they weren’t reacting now. He could do nothing.
“You new?”
The boy snapped his head up and spun around. He found himself looking into the eyes of another boy about his age. He could only blink at him.
“Hell-oo, are you in there?” The other boy waved his hand in front of his face. “Do you talk?”
“Y-yeah…” He stuttered, “Just got here.”
”Oh…well that’s better. You know, you really should stay out here and listen to that old jerk. He does stuff like that on purpose, you know.”
“But he told me to stay.”
“So what?” The other snorted. “He’s probably forgotten about you by now. He doesn’t care, you’ll learn. What’s your name?”
“A-Aidan…” The young boy said uncertainly, pushing his long, sandy blonde hair out of his face.
The other boy grinned, his chubby face widening brightly. “My name’s Zeke. It’s nice having another boy around. All the other kids are little, and there’s just Lacy whose my age, and she’s a snob.”
Aidan blinked at him and studied his features. He looked too happy for an orphan. His hair was dark brown, and spiked, and he had large, bright brown eyes and rounded nose. He had a happy-go-lucky aura about him that seemed inexplicable. How long had he been here?”
“I’ll show you around!” Zeke offered.
Aidan felt as if he didn’t have a choice, so he followed Zeke up the stairs, where they ran into a girl. She was small, a little chubby, with bright red-gold hair in spiral curls and a splash of freckles across her nose.
She glared at Zeke first, and before she even bothered to notice Aidan, she was yelling at him.
“Zeke! I told you to stop ruining my dolls! You owe me a new Sally doll! I had to save for months to get it! How could you…?”
Zeke turned and rolled his eyes at Aidan.
“I saw that!” The girl proclaimed. “I mean it Zeke!”
“Oh shut up!” Zeke cried. “Why don’t you go play with your stupid dolls and leave us boys alone! No girls allowed!”
“I don’t want to hang out with you anyway!” The girl stuck her tongue out and stormed away.
“That was Lacy,” Zeke explained, “She’s always like that. I hope one of us gets adopted soon so I won’t have to listen to her.”
Aidan wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. “This is the boys’ room. We have to sleep with a nightlight because the little ones are afraid of the dark.” He rolled his eyes again. It would seem that a lot of things about this place annoyed him. Aidan would soon discover, however, that this ‘group home’ was not only an annoyance to many of the kids, but it was also almost like a prison.
“It really sucks here, but you’ll find out soon enough. If you’re lucky you’ll get adopted, but no one over seven has ever been adopted from this place.”
Aidan was lost. He was so scared, and so confused. He had suddenly been thrown into this new world, and there was no one there to love him.
Nights were the worst. He would lie awake in bed and let the tears flow freely, silently, until he had cried himself to sleep. When sleep finally did come, he dreamt of his last moments with his parents before the fire. Before…he looked down at his small chest and saw the hideous wounds that covered practically the entire right side of it.
The administrator was right. He was a freak; no one wanted a damaged eleven-year-old. He was stuck there forever…
