The dark clouds loom over me as I make my way home from school. Thunder cracks in the sky signaling it’s about to rain. I put the hood of my old checkered hoodie up to cover my long black locks. I can’t afford to get sick. Another crack booms from the sky and drops of water start pouring from the dark clouds. my tattered old vans make squishy noises as I walk soaking through my socks and wetting my feet. As I watch the rain fall to the ground and puddles form I think about why it rains. Maybe the clouds are in pain and all those sunny and happy days are them faking happiness and when it pours they finally break down. Of course I know that’s not the reason for rain but it makes me feel like I’m not alone, because that’s what I do. I cover my emotions in front of everyone and when I get home I just come undone. I turn the corner to my old Victorian house and walk up the steps, fearing what might happen as soon as I open that door. If mom’s home I’m screwed and the rest of my afternoon will be absolute hell, Hopefully she’s at work and I’m left with dad. I open the door and peer into the living room to the left and I don’t see any sign of anyone. I hang my hoodie up on the coat hanger and slip off my sneakers by the door. As I walk down the hall to the kitchen I start to hear voices, so I slow my pace.
“ would you like some more coffee Mrs.Randle?” I hear my moms voice say. The voice she uses when she’s putting on her sweet mother act in front of strangers. Curious as to what’s going on I stay where I am against the wall about three quarters down the hall. Close to the kitchen but not close enough to be noticed.the stranger speaks
“ No thank you, do you know when Star will be home?”
“ She should be here soon it doesn’t take her too long to walk home”
“ She walks ? too and from school ? even in weather like this?” Mrs. Randle questions.
“ yes she does , she insists on walking for the exercise, she’s very active” I scoff in my head. I walk the mile and half walk because she doesn’t want to be bothered to drive me. Even when dad can she doesn’t let him. She loves to make me suffer
“ is that so ? I wouldn’t think any teenager likes to walk in torrential down pour” she states accusingly
Before my mom can reply I decide to make my presence known. I walk back to the door, open and close it. Not too loud but loud enough. And start making my way back toward the kitchen where my mom and the stranger await.
“honey is that you !” Mom calls. I wonder why she’s trying so hard to impress this lady, but I doubt it’s working. Moms not the best actress
“ yeah” I say as I enter our kitchen. Mom is sitting on one of the bar stools by the marble island in the center of the kitchen , aside the women she was conversing with. I Look at the lady next to her, she looks nice. She had strawberry blonde hair that you can tell is natural by her roots and eyebrows. She has light blue eyes and a kind smile. She’s dressed in formal black pants and a sophisticated white blouse. A yellow notepad lays in front of her and a pen rests between her fingers.
“ Honey this is Mrs.Randle, from Child Protective services” my mom says smiling at me, too anyone else that smile would seem kind but I knew better then that, she was furious. What is child services doing here ? Did someone notice the cuts and bruises, The tattered and old clothes I wear everyday or was it the fact that I was about 25 pounds under weight? Finally someone’s noticed , maybe I’ll finally get out of here.
“ Hi Star it’s nice to meet you” Mrs.Randle says standing and reaching her hand out to mine to shake. I meet her hand half way and give it a light shake, smiling kindly for the first time in what feels like centuries. “ it’s nice to meet you too.” I can feel Mom giving me a disapproving look for acting happy that she’s here. So I decide it would be better if I put on an act , like it’d ridiculous that mrs.Randle is here. “ Not to be rude Mrs.Randle but umm why are you here ? did I do something wrong?” My mom looks at me and nods approvingly. This is exactly what she want, she doesn’t want her to know what she does to me or how I feel or how horrible I’ve been treated for the past 5 years. With mom in the room I know I will never be able to tell Mrs.Randle about what I have to go through everyday. And I have to tell her , this is my one and only chance to get out of here. I can’t stand 3 more years of this.
