house to house

•2•

After Amanda leaves I immediately go to find Miranda. She has been in the bathroom for awhile now.

I walk down the hallway to see the door is wide open and the light is off. She's not in here anymore. I walk to the kitchen to see her sitting at the island, staring at the space in front of her.

"Hey," I say softly.

She quickly turns around, "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just sitting here."

"No, it's okay. This is your home now too. Do as you please." She smiles lightly and nods her head. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"No, go ahead," she says.

I sit down next to her and I let out a breath, "So Amanda said the whole foster situation has been hard for you."

"Yea, it's not easy."

"Well I don't know if you know this, but all five of us guys are adopted too. We've all been in the same shoes as you. I know it's not easy."

"It sucks," she says.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She smiles a bit, "I really appreciate you trying to help, but I don't talk about my feelings very much. I've learned to shut them off."

"Why?"

"Because whenever I open up to someone they end up hurting me. It's how it always works."

"I understand," I say. "I used to be the same way."

"You were?"

I chuckle lightly, "We are more alike than you think, Miranda."

[1 week later]

"Nick! The ponies are waiting for us!" Myra yells from the living room.

Mom chuckles as she stirs the pot of soup, "You better go, Nick. She doesn't like to wait."

"I know, I know," Nick stands up from the island to go play ponies with Myra.

"Girl is obsessed with ponies," I chuckle.

"She really is," Zion says. "I feel like I can't ever escape pony land. She's always wanting to play."

"I'm glad you guys get along so well with Myra," mom says. "She seems to love you guys."

"Well we love her too," Zion says. "It's nice having her around."

"It's nice having Miranda too," mom adds.

"I guess," Zion says.

"Zion," mom says. "I know you don't understand it, but she really is trying. It's a lot harder for others."

"I just don't get it," he says. "She has a nice house, clothes, food, water, a family that wants to help her, but she acts like she doesn't give a care in the world about any of it."

"It's how some people cope," I say. "She can't help that. She's just scared."

"You don't get to talk about it though since you're the only one she ever talks to here."

"We relate," I say.

"Have you even told her your story?" Zion asks.

"No," I say. "And she hasn't told me hers either, but talking to her is nice. She needs someone."

"I don't know how you deal with it," he says. "She walks into a room and immediately kills my mood."

"Zion, knock it off," mom says. "You have to understand what others go through. Just because your life was easier doesn't mean you have to rub that in."