Pieces of Hope

Chapter 2- Erica

I woke up in the middle of the night, about 1 A.M.. I had a nightmare about the new kid. In fact, it was one more day till he or she was going to be living in this ugly neighborhood. Today was Tuesday, the second day of suspension, the day before this mysterious figure would come. No one knows how nice or critical this person could be. Alas, I still lie in bead dreading for the day, yet in some ways I do have a tiny, miniature feeling that he or she could be...nice. If the beasts don't give me respect, or show that they really care, in their almost non- existent souls, then someone would have to liberate me from the doom that I am reluctant to face.

I covered myself up in blankets on the couch, and soothingly hummed my lullaby. The lyrics in my head sounded gorgeous and innocent.

Look at the way the moon behaves...

Look at the way she paints a silver ribbon on the waves

One thing I've learned and I'll share with you

Nothing is too wonderful to be true.

I barely got through the angelic song before I was calmed enough to get back to my slumber.

When I woke up, I was consumed in my own deep thoughts on life. As usual. What do they want from me? Do I have something they don't? No, I probably have less than them and they're just picking on me because of it. There's just so many questions that not even the wisest person could even comprehend. But the greatest question of all was just only two words. Why me?

I herd the completely audible noise of a truck stopping. Could this be the moving truck? Impossible. Tomorrow was the intended date, not now. My popping eyes gazed at the boy getting out of the car behind the moving truck. It appeared that he had a navy blue jacket, jeans, short black hair, and confused, dismal brown eyes staring at me. He couldn't be looking at me. Not through the window. He can't. I'm the invisible one, the one no one wants to look at. Everyone hates the way I look, and everyone has acted disdainful and contempt towards me. 

I snatched my long, maroon-colored coat, still wearing my pajamas, and placed it on my shoulders. I hope my foster father isn't up to see me bolting towards the door, onward to meet this new guy.

I finished putting on my coat as I walked aimlessly out the door.

Before crossing the street, I sat on the dull, gray porch and waited for the moving truck to vacate. I got consumed in my now daily thoughts. Who will love me? Will I be loved? Will they fight for me? What is the true meaning of love?  I laughed at my pondering questions. No one will love me, I'm a wreck. The only thing I can do is stare at this boy, and just imagine to be friends.

My thoughts overcame me as well. I ran unconsciously, straight to the yard across with no hesitation.My  bare feet became drenched and muddy and hugged me closer to the ground within every heartbeat. My heart was racing. My front yard seemed so far to the other across. I heard the gas pedal from afar.  The truck was moving and the boy was about to go in the house!

I don't know why, but I could already see a bond between us. I had to talk to him. I couldn't let this opportunity go to waste. I braced for impact and ran as fast as my legs could let me. I wasn't the fastest runner in gym, but I felt like the fastest at this moment. I had to get there, but I couldn't crash.

I ran straight through my path, without hurting myself. The wind stopped with me. He was gone. That was the last box. I had to get to him somehow. Abruptly, my brilliant eyes came across a blue football. That was my ticket. I quickly picked up the football and rang the doorbell.

The boy slowly peeked as the door slightly opened, and then opened it nice and wide.

"Hi! Um, I couldn't help but see you move in...."  I trailed off. Did I sound like a stalker?

"And..."  He was practically demanding for me to finish my sentence.

" I live right back there...."  I pointed at my wreck of a home.

He did a small cringe and cleared his throat.

" I found this football in your front yard."

" Oh that? I was just going to play that with my brother."  A tiny 8 year-old looking boy with brown, curly hair and eyes just like his brother hid behind him.

"Sorry..."  I replied sheepishly and unsure of myself. I was constantly pushing back the urge to ask if I was behaving half-heartedly like a stuck-up child.

" Who's that girl?"  His brother obliviously asked.

" Danny!"  The older brother scoffed and nudged him.

" Oh."  I did an obvious fake giggle. " I'm Erica. You must be Danny, I assume?"

" Yep! This is my brother, Asher."

" I see he's not shy."  I told Asher. I pulled my hair back in a messy bun with wisps of hair hovering above my head as if lightning had struck me, noticing that it was too raggedy for the eye to see.

"Eric!"  My father yelled for the world to hear.

My cheeks turned bright red, and my opinion of this town turned gloomy and dark once again. I sternly told Asher I had to go, said sorry like my apologetic personality and waved goodbye.

I did it.

It felt good to face a fear. I was always the shy girl. I still am, but I just kicked up a notch of confidence, right? I am still however wavering between the questions if I should feel sorry for myself, or Drew.

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