Who We Are.

The Beverly Hills

My mom and dad look scared. My small "outburst" could have cost them everything. The lady in the green stilettos stared into my soul and wipes the spit from her face with a white silk handkerchief handed to her by the fat man. Then, she picked up the little boy that stuff his finger under my wheel and handed him to the man. She picked at her hair which looked unkept and broken and I could see a flake come off and drop to the floor I cringed as she began to speak.

"If you think you thugs can come into our neighborhood and ruin the status quo, you have another thing coming." Her eyes were like daggers and the businessman beside her also shook his head in agreement. She acted as if she was the "Queen of the Wicked West" or the most popular girl in junior high. I wanted to roll my eyes, but then I took a sneak peek at my mom who had a stern expression on her face. I sighed internally and then smiled politely. Instead of returning the smile, she gritted her teeth and replied, like a psychopath, "Welcome to Sunshine!" She shook my father's hand and spun on her stilettos. As the group walked away, I could see the little boy's satisfaction rated smile. He was slung over his mom's shoulder and he stuck his tongue out. I wanted to pull out my mom's phone and record this so I could send it to someone who would put him in his place. I bet nobody was going to punish a six-year-old spoiled brat with rich parents and a "charming" smile. As soon as my hand shoots out, I pull it back into my chair. Even though my right arm isn't broken, it really feels like it is. It has been doing all the hard work for the past few weeks, it definitely needs a break. I set it on the armrest, observing all the bug bites and black spots from the car accident. I stared back at the boy who was in line getting coffee like he was a boss in child form. I sucked in a breathe and decided that he was going to pay. 

We headed up to the 6th floor, everyone moving out of the way for my wheelchair and I hope that is the only reason. I try to get my dad to turn the wheelchair so I can look in any direction besides forward, but he doesn't bait for it. Usually, my neck isn't this stiff but I guess the car ride sleep wasn't the best. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to move it towards something my mom was gasping at. I tried to turn it but the pain was too much. I pulled out my hand from my hair and my head snapped back. I grimaced and closed my eyes too avoid being sad because I can't see everything. I decide to open my eyes just for a second and wanted to squeeze them tighter than before. I hated the looks that we got - mostly compassion and friendly ones, but I could see that most of them didn't want a girl that could barely move her neck and had almost every bone in her body broken. My dad pulls out the key card for the room and begins to fiddle with it, trying to stick it into the hole. I sigh, want to see what our new home looked like and get away from the large white family family who was watching us without blinking. I wonder what made us look so scary to other people. Dad finally gets the card in and I hear a click and a beep. To this, Miracle "wakes up" and runs inside. I knew she wasn't asleep, she just wanted to be carried. She was a mini me. We should get her a wheelchair. I roll inside and I am immediatly crazy in love.

Our apartment was smaller than the one back in Redwood even though it had 3 rooms and 2 bathrooms. I loved it all the same. It also had a living room and a small kitchen, but nothing dramatic.  The walls were beautiful and I loved how bare it was. For now. My mom would probably bring in all the stuff by tomorrow. I touched the walls and looked at the painting and all the pre-decorations. I checked out the kitchen and my wheelchair couldn't even fit in between the white fridge and the brown dining table. Now I know how my mom could afford it, I just wondered how we would survive.

"Dang, here's a beauty." My dad starts. I rolled back into the living room just in time to see him touch the couches to see how soft they are. Then he falls and lays all over them. It is so annoying to see how he changed in prison. He kicks off his shoes - they fly in opposite directions. One goes towards the door and the other nearly misses the flat-screen T.V. It hits the clean white wall and makes a black streak. I hold my breath.

"Stop that!" If we break something, we have to replace it and I cannot afford something like that right now." My mom was like a mom to all of us - even dad. Before he went away, he was all serious - had a good job as a bank teller and was a basic role model to Miracle and I. But in some twisted way, he came back from prison softer and more carefree than ever. He didn't care that he didn't have a job and I guess he just wanted to spoil us to make up for the last 8 years he missed. If he really wants us to spend time with him, he needs to get his act together.

I was lifeless as my mom helped me into my bed and fixed my hair. Forget about the shower, that fight in the lobby had drained everything out of me. In under a few minutes, I was in a dream.