wisteria

[01] family #4

The only thing Wendy liked about Seaton was the extended pond behind her new, yet incredibly old house. Ever since her social worker, Mrs. Lantz—“but please, call me Tina”—showed her the screen shots she ripped from Google Earth, Wendy was both irritated and curious. No one likes moving, especially when you’re moving from a city that never sleeps to a small town that never wakes up. But Wendy enjoys new things, even if this new thing didn’t seem all that new. And even so, Seaton sounds like Satan and Wendy found that charismatic. 

            Her duffle bag sat uncomfortably on her shoulder. She kept hoisting it higher every time it dragged her down. Wendy approached the house and knocked on the wood, specifically three times. After a couple seconds of shifting her weight from leg to leg, the door opened and exposed nothing at eye-level to Wendy. She had to glance down to see the short, freckle faced boy.

            Silence engulfed both of them as Wendy waited for him to say something while he was doing the same thing. Finally, Wendy decided to cut the awkwardness.

            “Hey, is…”—she tried to recall the foster mom’s name—“Claire here?”

            It was a stupid question, Wendy knew that, but she wasn’t sure how else to address to the little boy he was not really what she came to for. The boy scrounged his eyebrows and nose as he scanned Wendy up and down.

            “Why are you wearing that?” He asked.

            Wendy rolled her eyes and said, annoyed, “I’m on a budget, kid.”

            “But I can see your bellybutton,” He noted.

            “Can you just go get Claire?” Wendy asked desperately. She wrapped her free arm across her exposed stomach, thanks to her PSYCHED crop-top, and looked beyond the boy’s strawberry blonde hair. Just as she said so, another figure fathomed behind the boy and placed a playful hand on his scalp.

            “Alright beat it,” She told him while simultaneously dragging him away from the door. The boy walked off, but not before turning around once more to glare at Wendy. She bugged out her eyes threateningly and watched as the kid squirmed off, then composed herself as soon as Claire made eye contact.

            “Wendy, hi, come in,” She greeted. Claire opened the door wider. Wendy sent her a grateful smile and stepped inside with her worn out sneakers. Considering the small boy already pointed out her exposing attire, Wendy pulled on her army green jacket to cover her front. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and took a subtle scan around the entrance. To her left was the living room, to her right was the kitchen, and directly in front of her was the stairs.

            “I know it’s hard adjusting to a new home, but we’ll try and make it as bearable as possible, okay?” Claire offered a humble grin, which Wendy returned with a forced one of her own. “Right, um, I guess we should start introducing you and giving you a tour, okay?”

            Wendy shrugged her shoulders as an answer. Claire nodded and proceeded towards the kitchen, which then also uncovered a girl, looking around fourteen, with extremely curly hair and an itchy-looking turtleneck. Wendy couldn’t remember the last time she saw someone wearing a turtleneck, but she was fairly certain it might have been during an episode of Full House.

            “This is Frankie,” Claire introduced. At the sound of her name, the girl looked up and studied Wendy like an open book, which is kind of how Wendy felt under her stare. She skimmed her and then glanced back down at her textbook with nothing longer than a muttered, “hey.”