Miss Fortune

One

When I walked down the hallway and the first thing I see is my mother's boyfriend, Hank. He sits on a folding chair on the balcony smoking a cigarette, not initially seeing me until I moved past the livingroom to get into the bathroom. I rush in and lock the door before he could say anything and took a deep breath.

Hank isn't the kind of guy too keen on kids, especially not his girlfriend's kids. He's a pale, black-haired, lanky stoner who made money fixing cars at a sketchy shop downtown. He gets mad easily and very often at the expense of my brother and I, whether or not it was verbal or physical just depended on his mood. Whatever it was, it was our fault.

The bathroom, however, is my safe haven. A small room where I can spend hours imagining other lives as my own. It's an excuse to escape everything.
This morning, unfortunately, isn't a morning for a bathroom escape. It's Wednesday which means it's time to get ready for school, a different kind of escape.

I'm awake and out of bed before my siblings almost everyday, if I don't get up before them I don't get a chance to get ready. I finish brushing my teeth when I hear a knock.
"Are you almost done? There's other people that live here." Charlotte, my older half-sister, is usually the next one awake after me. She's over for the week, as per the custody agreement she begged our mother for.
She's the one knocking at the door, she hates me.

"One second, just rinsing." I say reluctantly. If I hadn't replied, would she think I was dead? Wishful thinking for the both of us.
Opening the door to the sight of my sister, she just woke up and she's perfect.

"Move." She rolled her eyes, "I need to get ready." Charlotte pushes past me and I make my way to the kitchen. Once I get to the stove I turn on the kettle, it's oatmeal again today.
I zone out while I wait for the water to boil, wishing I was my sister.

My sister isn't perfect in a bottle-blonde bombshell or a Hollywood actress kind of way; she's the embodiment of 2000's grudge, the perfect cool girl. I want to be just like her, she has friends and boys actually talk to her. She has beautiful green eyes, golden brown hair and olive skin. She's beautiful, and even more so when she does her makeup.
She closes the door when she gets ready but if our mother is awake and playing music Charlotte will leave the door open a bit; I love getting the chance to watch her get ready.

I want the kind of relationship with my sister that I've seen in movies and on TV.
The ones where the younger sister watches the older sister get ready in awe, where the older sister tells the younger sister about how she'll grow up to be beautiful like her.
The ones that have the older sister tell the younger sister a secret, trusting her not to tell anyone.
But she hates me, so...

The kettle starts whistling and I pour the boiling liquid over the pre-packaged oatmeal I dumped into the bowl moments before. I don't remember doing that. I shrug and mix the two together.
Not bothering to sit down, I stuff spoonfuls of gloopy oatmeal into my mouth and discard the empty bowl in the sink. Making my way to my shared bedroom, I prepare myself.
He's either sleeping, gaming or masturbating. Silently hoping for either of the former.

The bathroom door swings open and Charlotte hastily makes her way the our bedroom, her footsteps are heavy and the noise she's making with her metal rings is on purpose. She knocks, waits and opens the door.
"Arlo," she starts calmly, "mom says she's not going to be able to drive you, you're walking with me. Get up and get ready, please."
She turns, almost knocking me over. "Do you always have to be in the fucking way?"

"I'm just trying to get dressed." I state, pointing into the room as she walks away.

"You can wait," she stops halfway down the hall, "Arlo needs to get ready first. I have to leave early now because mom didn't come home."

"Hank's here."

"Yeah, he is here." Charlotte says sarcastically, walking towards the bathroom.

"Why can't he take Arlo?"

"Because he doesn't like either of you little shits, that's why." She laughs as she closes the bathroom door to finish getting ready.
A muffled laugh escapes from the balcony.

I sit at the table waiting for Arlo to get out of our bedroom, a good five minutes roll by until he emerges. With nothing to say I make my way to the bedroom and get dressed within two minutes. Charlotte walks into the room with her makeup bag and laughs at me before placing her belongings on her bed.
"Those pants don't fit." She chuckles.

"It's all that's clean." My voice cracks a bit as the words escape my mouth.

"Here," Charlotte tosses a pair of her sweatpants at me. "I want them back right after."
She's short and I'm fat so her pants fit pretty well on me.

"Wait," I start, "who's taking me to school?"

"You're literally ten, figure it out."