Behind the Glasses || a.i.

Chapter 15 - Foster Nerd

 We were on our way to the airport. Everyone in the family was thrilled, no words to describe how excited we were for our trip to Los Angles. I had never been to California.

 My dad was driving, my mother in the passenger’s seat. The music was cranked up with the windows down, so every car around us on the highway could hear. We had lived in New Hampshire, but the Maine airport was closer, so we headed north. I remember my dad’s embarrassingly bright floral button-down shirt. My sister and I were thirteen, and she wouldn’t be caught dead next to him on any other occasion, but today was different. My mom wore a purple sun dress, her short hair in a headband. She wasn’t wearing her seat belt, happily dancing in her seat. She was singing along to the latest pop music. It wasn’t that I didn’t take interest in their music; I was reading.

 “C’mon, Trin! Loosen up! Dance with me,” my sister exclaimed. Her voice was smooth like the surface of water. She was wearing jean shorts and a plain pink shirt, matching pink converse on her feet. The song changed, and she gasped. “I love this song!” she squealed.

 I rolled my eyes at her. “You love every song. I really couldn’t care less about it,” I tell her, annoyed.

 “Trinity,” my mother warned.

 “I just want to finish this chapter!” I shout over the music. “If you could turn that god awful crap off-”

 “Hey!” my mom yelled. “I’m going to take that book from you in a second!”

 I huffed, slouching down in the seat to read. It was hard to do with my sister singing on my right. “Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend, somewhere along in the bitterness, and I should’ve stayed up with you all night, had I known how to save a life,” she sang quietly to herself.

 I was on the last page of chapter fifteen when my twin poked my arm. “What?” I hissed, so I wouldn’t get in trouble.

 “I’m sorry,” she apologized. I smiled at her. “Sorry you’re missing out,” she added, and my face flopped. Catching me off guard, she snatched the novel from my fingers.

 “Dad!” I called, knowing he would side with me.

 “Zoe,” he threatened with his tone.

 “She’s not paying any attention, mom!” she yells. I tried pulling it away, but she protested. “Trinity!”

 “Girls, stop fighting, or I will turn this car ar-”

 …

 That was the last sentence my mother said. “Girls, stop fighting, or I will turn this car ar-” It wasn’t even a full sentence. She didn’t even finish her last word, couldn’t get out the last syllable. It haunts me, sneaks in to my dreams almost every other night. She was yelling at us, at me.

 My dad was sticking up for me. “Zoe. Zoe. Zoe,” it plays like a broken record in my head. His strict voice, telling her enough was enough. “Zoe.” My sister’s name, together before birth, literally. My dad’s angels, my mom’s babies, we were always competing. My dad would always stick up for me, my mom supporting my sister. “Zoe.”

 The one that stings the most, though: my sister’s last word. “Trinity!” Calling my name, so I would stop wrestling her. All she wanted was attention, attention I didn’t give her. She just wanted a friend to sing in dance with her in the backseat of the minivan on the way to the airport.

 I never went to LA.

 …

 My dad looked at us in his mirror, getting ready to say something. But before his vocal cords could vibrate to get out a sound, Zoe screamed bloody murder. A truck spun across our lane, out of control. The man inside I would later find to be drunk. My mother screamed next, and I followed while my father tried his hardest to move out of the way.

 It was too late.

 Our car was crushed, and I remember my sister’s cries. It felt like forever, and I was numb but on fire at the same time. The truck went up in flames, and it somehow ended up in the median of the highway. I don’t remember much after that, but I do remember feeling like it took a lifetime and a half for emergency vehicles to make an appearance at the scene. I remember getting to the hospital, but that week there wasn’t eventful.

 I was released, and Lucy took me in for the time being. On that first day at her house, we got the news my father had been pronounced dead after waking from a coma. I was praying for my mother and Zoe, but apparently my prayers were unheard, as I received word that my mother was dead, and my sister was being sent to a hospital in Massachusetts, as they had some of the best doctors.

 A month later, she didn’t return, and I was sent to Maine into my first foster family. My foster mother got a call one night, and she was angry. She told me that she loved me, and I would never be taken from her. That same night, they informed me of my sister’s death.

 Zoe, my only reason for continuing to pull through, was gone, never to return, and I was responsible.

 And that, my friends, is the story I have never spoken of.

 Nobody knows this information.

 Only Zoe does.

---

This is the longest enrty from My Life As A Foster Nerd I have written so far...

Guys, Luke is eighteen. My heart hurts. :(

On side:

Lucifer 'cause it's his birthday (well not for a couple of hours here, but is Australia he is eighteen...)

Cuddle? 'cause fetus keek... I just made myself sad now okay...

Meag xx