Mission One

We gon' do it again

It's the day.

I pressed my back against the wall of my bunk bed, silently observing Ayesha's frantic movements of trying to find the right outfit to impress her 'next to be' parents.

"Which one, B?" She asked, holding a navy blue dress in one hand and a pink dress in the other.

"Don't you think they're looking for someone who they think is fit to be their child, not what they have on?" I countered. If they were looking for children who have great fashion sense, shouldn't they just go read a vogue magazine but for children?

"Not the time, Beverly." She hissed at me. "Just pick one."

"I mean, I would certainly think it would be a waste of time to just look for kid's, who have a great fashion style. What's the point?" I continued with a dismal shake of my head, ignoring her request. "You're going to live with the child, you might as well choose an interesting one. To hell with outfits -

Before I could even finish my great point, the door flew open, in a matter of seconds and in, came Helen. The devil.

"Wow, Ayesha." She gushed. "That is a nice dress you've picked." Ok. Well, she is a devil to me.

"Thank you helen." Ayesha, politely thanked after coming down from her twirl. "I picked it, all by myself."

"I can certainly see that. If this won't convince them to pick you, I don't know what will." She said. "All you just need to do, is start making your way downstairs to meet them." She encouraged, not failing to hide the faltering tone in her voice which was enough for me to know that she had some kind words to say to me, after Ayesha leaves, of course.

Oblivious to the slight tension, the five year old nodded happily and left to make an appearance downstairs, leaving Helen and I alone. I can already tell what she's about to say.

"Did I not say get ready, the guests will be coming shortly? An hour ago?" Her angry voice bellowed in this small ass room, waking up the rats living in the walls. Once again, shouting her frustrations instead of actually saying them like a normal person.

"Yes you did, Helen." I answered whilst surveying her face contort into disgust after hearing her name leave my mouth.

"Ma'am." She corrected. "You're not entitled to address me as one of your equals, Beverly. I've told you numerous times." Personally, I don't think she's entitled to many things but you don't see me unnecessarily pointing it out.

"I said, loud and clear, the guests are here, come downstairs and put on your best show." She seethed through clenched teeth. "Imagine my surprise when I saw two kids missing from the group." Her hand flying to her chest, conveying artificial shock.

"I said to myself, 'maybe they're still getting ready?' Or 'maybe they're too nervous to meet them?'" She rambled, no longer talking to me but herself, I didn't dare move from my spot in bed. "Whatever it is, I couldn't care less. All they gotta do is show their faces and make me not look bad."

"But what is one of them doing right now?" She crossed her arms, glaring at me stoically as she waited for me to answer.

"Laying in bed."

"No!" I reflexively flinched from the slamming of her fist into the wall. "They're making me look bad." She bellowed.

"I'm sorry ma'am." I said, automatically, still unmoved from my spot.

"Sorry doesn't mean shit." Her fist making a second encounter with the wall, decorating it with her blood causing me to avert my eyes to the rail infront of me.

"I want you to get your stupid behind outta bed, Beverly." She said, somewhere between a threat or demand. "Otherwise, I will so much make it look like a red painting." She warned, before slamming the door.