That Which Isn't Real

Introducing... Me!

I run up the stairs as fast as I possibly can. A wad of cash is clenched tightly in my hand. Tip-tap, tip-tap, tip-tap. My feet can't seem to help but make noise on the newly finished linoleum floor. I grimace with every step, hoping Missus Croc at the front desk, only feet away, doesn't hear me.

"Whisper." Her cat eye shaped glasses sit perfectly on her nose as she turns away from her computer to look at me. I don't need to turn to face her to know that she is not happy with me. "It is past your curfew, young lady." She tells me with a huff. "And why don't you turn around. You have some people here who want to speak to you."

I turn around with a forced smile. I already know the couple standing at the front desk. "Mister and Missus Jones! Hi. How are you? What brings you to Roland?" I try to make casual conversation as if we didn't meet just minutes before.

Mister Jones folds his arms. "We live in Roland, Whisper." He says matter-of-factly. Missus Jones shakes her head disapprovingly.

"Whisper, why don't you give them the fifty dollars back?" Missus Croc suggests. I sigh with frustration as I dig through my jean's pockets for the five ten-dollar bills I had taken from Mister Jones just minutes ago at our earlier meeting. With contempt in my face, I hand him four of them.

"Ahem." He waves his fingers. I roll my eyes as I hand him the last ten. "Thank you." He says.

"Go get ready for bed, Whisper." Missus Croc tells me.

"Fine." I exasperate.

"What was that?" Missus Croc raises a penciled-in eyebrow at me. Her thin face creases into a frown.

"Yes ma'am." I say with a sarcastic cheer in my voice. Sometimes I swear this is the real life version of Annie. I march from the waiting room to the entrance of the girl's area. I can hear the familiar sound of Missus Croc apologizing profusely to the Joneses and offering any sort of compensation.

Jane is leaned up against the wall just past the double-doors. She's waiting for me, my clothes and shower bag in hand. "So how'd that go?" She looks me over.

"'So how'd that go?'" I mock her. "Shut up." I take my clothes and bag from her hand and enter the shower room with a frustrated sigh. I open one of the stalls and go in. The warm water is comforting on my bare back. The feeling of the steam in my nose calms me. I wish I could stay in here forever.

I finally convince myself to shut the water off. I brush my teeth and get dressed. Jane is waiting for me outside the shower room.

"C'mon, little sis." She smiles at me and puts her arm around my shoulders. "I made your bed for you and everything." She gives me a squeeze as she walks me down the long hallway of dorm-like rooms. She uses her own keycard to open ours.

A small room stands before me. Such a familiar sight. Our loft beds sit on opposite sides. Jane's underneath desk and wardrobe are a neat and OCD-level tidy. Mine sits a disorganized mess of unread books and clothes that you have to smell in order to determine if they're clean or dirty.

"G'night!" Jane says in her usual cheerful tone as she climbs her ladder with a book in hand. She closes the curtains on her railing and turns on her lamp.

"Night." I mutter. I climb my ladder and crawl across the rare feeling of my made bed. I plop down on my pillow. I'm so done with this place... I think to myself with a shake of my head. But no one wants to adopt a seventeen-year-old. It's like living at a dog pound. Everyone only wants the babies. I'm just waiting for when I turn eighteen. Only seven more months.

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My morning starts with the second wake up-alarm. The one meant for the kids with online school, like Jane, to get up and get started. I sit up, my short, blond, wolf-cut hanging in unbrushed mats. Jane, of course, is already up doing homework in her color coded journal. Crap! I forgot about my homework! I clamber down my ladder and dig through the endless books and papers.