Behind The Hoodie

Chapter 4: Purple Elephant

I close the door and open the cabinet, pulling out a huge, packed, first aid kit. I gently take off my hoodie and shirt and turn around only making me wince at the sight. It's a little scratched up, bleeding in a tiny spot or two, and definitely bruising, that's for sure.

If I wasn't wearing my hoodie it would have been a lot worse scratch wise but those bruises are enough to turn a stomach.

I bandage the scratches and the bloody spots before I get an ice pack and wrap it in a towel. I carefully use an elastic bandage to hold it to my back and keep the swelling down. This is gonna be fun to sleep in.

I go to my room and make sure all my homework and everything is done before changing into pajama's which is really just p.j. pant's covered in cats and then a long sleeve shirt. I really have nothing else to do.

So I feel like I owe a little more explanation to my birth parents if I'm telling the whole story.

My birth parents and I were driving home and a- I mean, another car have- have? Had hit us, and um, they didn't, uh, walk away. Yeah. Anyway, the car door had almost taken off my arm, leaving a huge scar in my right shoulder. And that's the best way I can think to put a short explanation.

I head out to the kitchen and begin to make some grilled cheese, my foster parents are gonna be home any second anyway so I decided to get out enough stuff to make a few.

My foster parents now are the same ones who I stopped fighting for. And I have really grown up with them for so long I have really just come to call them my actual parents. I figured foster parents is just long of a word and brought up to many questions as a kid.

As soon as I finish the first one, I hear the front door unlock and open.

"Beth," I hear my mom say.

"In the kitchen."

"What are you making," she asks as she walks in wearing her pencil skirt and dress shirt with heels.

I don't know anyone could live to be a real estate agent and dress like that but she pulls it off like it's nothing.

"Grilled cheese."

My dad walks in as I give the first one to my mom and I start cooking the next one.

My dad taps my head with a rolled up piece of paper.

I look at it and he hands it to me.

"What's this?"

My parent's smile at me, my dad taking over my grilled cheese. I read through it and smile. It's a few different pieces of good news.

One is that even though I'm sixteen, I'm not allowed to drive because of my past they don't think that I'm ready but when I turn seventeen I will officially be allowed to get my drivers licenses.

Two being my test results from my career aptitude test which tells me I would be a good doctor apparently. Seems legit I guess.

I smile as I read through the details of it.

"I think this calls for a celebratory dinner."

"But I'm eating grilled cheese," my mom says.

"And I still was making grilled cheese."

"Nope set the burned bread and cheese down, we are going out for dinner."

My dad's a musician who works in a shop that gives lessons so the last time I've seen him this happy is when he had a bunch of clients so that he got a pay raise.

"I'm in p.j.'s," I add just really not wanting to leave the house.

"It's Dutch Burger. It's open 24/7. Everyone will be in p.j.'s."