Glass Walls

Chapter One

chapter one

I was seventeen and still jumping from foster home to foster home, leaving whenever my story started to unravel. Truth's weren't exactly my strong point, I had this thing where I tried to avoid handling them at all costs.

There was home that stuck though, amidst all the drama that its cauldron brewed. It was the best year of my short life, and I'd give that life if it meant going back. Years and years of crap were finally made-up for there.

***

"Marti, darling. You know the spiel, all the talk. By heart, I don't doubt. So I'll do you one glamorous favor and spare the painful chat."

This bubbly woman looked at me through the rearview mirror, expecting thanks and praise I suppose. She must've thought she was oh so hip because she could talk shit and spare poor screwed-up, no-home kids like me "the speech." I, on the otherhand, did not view her in quite the same perspective.

"Gee. You are quite kind. Realizing that I've heard this all a thousand and one times before. But, stupid as well. You've yet to realize, even after all these excursions, dear Brenda, that this talk has obviously not stuck. Otherwise, I wouldn't exactly be in the backseat of this lovely stationwagon driving to yet another foster home from hell. Let's face it, you know how to pick 'em, smalls."

Her blond curls bounced as she listened in silence. She was expecting more of me. Expecting me to make it work. The problem with that is that in order to make something work, you actually have to want it. I never wanted this.

Trust me, I'd be out on my own were it a choice of my own. But, silly child laws say differently. As a ward of the state, they've come to the conclusion that they can take better care of me then...well, me. I do believe something may be clouding their vision. So, until eighteen at least, I'll be bouncing from house to house, stability being a term not quite understood with clarity.

Brenda gave me a cold, hard, green-eyed stare. Oh, very scary. Watch out, folks. The green-eyed beast strikes.

"You better not be like this with the Spring's. Your crap won't be put up with here. And you have to make this one work, Marti. You're out of options, and you should've been out of chances long ago.

"Pretend all you like, but I see that little girl inside of you. She's screaming for a bit of love. The way you act, however, isn't going to get you very far. Just...try." With that, I could feel her exhaling, ridding me from her conscience. I was that piece of clay she couldn't form no matter how hard her hands tried to mold. Her dud, so to speak.

I just glared at her. She didn't get it. She would never get it. Not a single teen that sit in the backseat of this godforsaken car wanted to be here. They didn't want her help. Call-Me-Brenda was forced on them all, me included in that bunch of rotten grapes. I, personally, could do without.

"Sure thing, Brenda dear. But, for now, just drive your car along that road and don't take your squinty eyes away from it. Your advice, duly noted, but not really appreciated."

I gave her one last fake smile, one that was more of a grimace. Pulling my headphones back on, I blared noise. I didn't even have to be music; just something to distract the memories.

***

Two glorious hours later and we'd finally arrived at our destination. 4182 Cherrygrove Drive. Sounds pleasant, huh? Too bad that my spidy-senses were tingling. Hell was just a doorstep away.

Brenda flowed out of her piece-of-crap car with a grace that lied about her profession. But, so did her overly dressy pants suit.

She openeded my door to let me out and I did have to concede that she'd make a wondeful chauffeur if she ever decided to change careers. I mean, she's got the experience under her belt.