The Broken Ones

1 Isabelle

  I walk into the orphanage office. The paint on the walls are chipped and the tan color brings a dull atmosphere. Nobody in the room smiles. Ms. Clarkson, the receptionist, looks at me. She is not married and I do not think she ever will be with that sour face she always gives. I nod my head in her direction and advert my eyes to the counselor office. Twisting my ring on my right index finger, I look for the orphanage counselor, Ms. Bocken. She intercomed me to the office, saying it was something of importance. When I notice that she is no longer in her office, I turn around and bump into a woman with black wavy hair and sea green eyes enlarged by glasses. She looks to be in her thirties. I swallow a lump forming in my throat.

  "Hello, you must be Isabelle Harris. I'm Kaylee Carter, your new mother," says the woman. I just nod. I am not one for talking. That is usually what happens to orphans who have been across the whole country in three years or less. "Well, come along, we'll be late for dinner. Your new family is ecstatic to meet you." On the second thought, I wouldn't mind staying here for another year or two, I thought to myself. I feel sick now, bile rising from the pit of my stomach. I'm not sure they are going to like me. With a queasy feeling floating in my stomach, she leads me out of the front door of the orphanage and to her car.  

  As she leads me to the car, I stop and gape at the red Ferrari idling in the parking lot. "What's wrong Isabelle, have you never seen a Ferrari?" asks Mrs. Carter. I shake my head faster than I was expecting and get a little dizzy. I sway a little, but straighten up as soon a possible. The sun glints off the paint job and blinds me. Bringing my arm up to block my eyes from the sun, I slowly shuffle towards the bright red car's trunk to put my luggage up. "Here, give me your bag and get in the car. I will put it up." Mrs. Carter says sweetly. She is REALLY nice; so nice she is creeping me out. Her smile brightens the creepy aura that she just exerted. I nod and hesitantly hand her my bag. I don't usually trust people with my belongings. 

 I walk around to the passenger's seat and open the door. Everything is neatly placed. The car looks brand new inside and out. In the cup holders, there sits two drinks: a Mr. Pibb and a Sprite, my personal favorite. The condensation on the bottles remind me how thirsty I've been these last few days. The leather is the color of caramel and I can almost taste the candy just looking at the individual car seats. I can smell the leather of the new car and something else; something sweet. I rummage through the car and find a Walmart bag with a clear container of . . . freshly baked cookies! My stomach growls. "Surprise!" screams Mrs. Carter. I jump up and smack my head on the ceiling of the Ferrari. Thankfully, she did not see. "I didn't know which one you liked, so I got both and I was thinking you might want some real food." I am so happy she took the time out of her day to think about me and actually bake a pan of cookies, that I start leaping around the car and give her a bear hug. Her arms slide around my back and she rests her cheek against mine. I run and jump in the Ferrari, ready to meet the rest of the family face-to-face.

  As we speed home, we sip our carbonated beverages and share a few cookies now and again. The radio plays in the background. Guitars and drums beat loudly and I tap along with the music. It's a new pop song I've never heard. The car ride has been completely silent. Mrs. Kaylee takes a left onto Abbey Boulevard and up a hill. The song ends and Mrs. Carter reaches towards the radio, shutting it off. The rest of the way is an awkward buzzing silence.  

  Soon enough, we pull up to the mansion. It is an aquamarine blue paneled two story house with a built in garage and attic. The garage looks newly built, just like the rest of the house. There are blossoming rose bushes on either side of the pure white door. The red and pink roses are accompanied by rainbows of colored carnations. I look to the front of the garage and notice that the family is outside with grins on their faces, all except one; the sister. . . 

 * * *

Swimming through the vast blue that has all magical creatures brings peace to my mind. I have my scuba suit on so I am a little disappointed I cannot feel the sweet coolness of the water. I remember a time where I lived near the seaside. Whenever I felt sick, I would rush to the salty water and soak in the fresh feeling and smelling of the beautiful waves. Hearing the whoosh as they crashed on land gave me shivers down my spine. The beauty is overwhelming here.

- "The Intense Feelings: A Collection of Short Stories" by

Isabelle Harris