FOSTER CHILD | PETER PARKER

vi.

FOSTER CHILD | ACT ONE
scene six:  abhorred arguments

THE ORIGINAL  two hours did thirty-minute walk back to San Francisco became a four-hour walk as Isla kept on falling behind, not used to walking for more than thirty minutes at a time as her all her former foster parents were encouraged by her social worker to give her rides everywhere as she had a slight tendency to run away a majority of the time.

All prior pity that Vincent had for the girl was again immediately replaced by feelings of pure anger. He could put up with her complaining about how she never got to meet her father but instead, she was complaining about how tired she was, how sore her feet were, begging to take breaks every few seconds, crying about how betrayed she felt by her father and how she wished she never left home in the first place.

It bothered him how the young teenager seemed to wallow in self-pity when he was the one who should've been doing so. He just wanted to yell at her to appreciate that he dropped everything to go and accompany her to meet her father but instead, he was met with this.

She might look like his sister but by god, did she act nothing like her, Vincent thought, as the two of them finally arrived at the train station after a painful trip.

Isla took note of the four stray dogs that roamed in front of the bus station. Isla had a strong feeling that they were waiting for the owners that had left them there but she brushed it off as nothing more than a feeling and went over to pet each other dog individually, letting Vincent go ahead and into the bus stations

After struggling to leave the dogs, Isla sluggishly opened the door to the bus station and made a beeline to the booking station, confidently asking them at the booking station for two tickets.

She smiled slightly to herself, watching the man print out to tickets for them. "We finally get to go home." She mumbled to herself as she reached behind her back to take her bag off until to accidentally smack herself on the back.

Her smile immediately dropped. She continued to pat her back like a crazy woman, earning stares from those around her as they took in her raggedy appearance and her messy hair.

"No! No no no no no!" Isla repeated, pressing her hands against her ears as she bent over. "My bag! I left my bag in the car in San Quentin."

Confused, Vincent stood up from his seat and walked over to Isla after he had noticed she was having a slight mental breakdown. He smiled apologetically at the man behind the counter and guided Isla out of the bus station.

"What's wrong?" He asked, holding onto his niece's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down from her frantic state.

"The bag! The box! It's all the in the car back in San Quentin! Everything Vincent, everything!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, breaking away from Vincent's grasp as she began to pace.

"What...?" Vincent asked lowly, a wave of disbelief crashing onto him.

"I said I left everything–"

"I heard what you said!" He finally snapped. "How could you forget the one thing you need Isla! We are essentially stuck in San Francisco because you are irresponsible enough to run away from wherever you came from with a man you don't even know that well!"