GABRIEL. (UNDER CRITICAL EDITING)

Chapter 3

Fun Fact: I hate anything that crawls.

I walk out of the back door and over to a small picnic table sitting in the yard. They have it out here for when they have cook outs and stuff. I don't come outside much, especially not when it's hot. I hate heat and I hate bugs. I sit at the table and watch the small mechanical water fall they have back here. It's cute and soothing, and the cricket sounds, which I ironically enjoy, make it all the more peaceful. I lay back on the seat of the bench, making sure I don't see a single creepy-crawler, and place my sunglasses over my eyes.

"Mom, I really don't like this color. It's too girly." My mom giggles at me a rubs her hand through my kinky hair, pulling it a little.

"Well what color would you like then, honey?" She asks. I place my finger on my chin and think about it for a second.

"Let's do green or blue," I reply to her. She smiles and shakes her head at me.

"Girl, you're just like me when I was little. I didn't like pink and purple either. My mom always made me wear them , though. But I'm not going to do that to you. You want blue? I'll give you blue, baby." She smiles again and stands up from her squatting position. We're in a dress store and it's Easter. Girls are expected to wear cute little dresses and lacey socks with cute sandals, but mom said that I could wear a cute blouse and some blue jeans. I love my mom.

"Oh! I like that one, mom!" She walks over to the rack I'm pointing at and picks up a cute green and yellow plaid button down shirt. It doesn't have any sleeves and it ties in the front.

"This one?" I nod and she brings it over to me. "Girl, you're going to kill," she says, kissing my forehead.

I hate having flashbacks of my parents and brother. It hurts too much, especially when I come back to reality and they aren't here. I was only six that day when we were shopping for the Easter clothes. My mom thought I was so witty when I was little. I was shy around new people, but when I was around my family I was a mini firecracker. I always spoke my mind, and I knew way too much for my young age.

My uncle is a loser, has been all his life. He was a factory worker and my father was a judge. My father had been to law school and was a very successful man. He had a beautiful wife, and two lovely kids. My uncle lived in a small house in the suburbs, and he was a drunk. He was so bad, even my grand parents didn't claim him. He lived a pretty sad life, still is since he's in jail, but that gave him no right to do what he did.

I was at a friend's house, one of my only friends. Her name was Makayla and she was a little pudgy blonde haired girl. I really liked Makayla, and her family. They were all very sweet people and I went to Makayla's house regularly, before I was put into foster homes. Her mom rushes into her small play room while we're sitting down watching something about ponies, and she's crying. I look at her, worried. I can remember everything.

"Honey, we need to go to the hospital," she cries.

"Why?" I ask her. Makayla and I are both worried by now. She grabs our hands and pulls us up from the floor.

"Just come on." We ride to the hospital, and during the whole ride Makayla's mom is crying. Makayla's crying, too, but she doesn't even know why. We get inside and Makayla's mom goes up to the desk where the receptionist sits. She asks the lady something, and when the lady replies, she falls down into the floor crying. I just watch in horror, not knowing what's going on.

A few days later, I hear that my parents and brother have died. Killed in a drive-by shooting by someone that my uncle hired. I was an emotional wreck. I didn't have anywhere to go. I always thought that meant that I'd move in with Makayla, since she was my best friend, but I didn't. I always thought about that as I moved from foster home to foster home. Why didn't Makayla's mom adopt me? She'd always say "You're like Makayla's older sister and my second daughter."