Chapter 5 c5

We had gone five days without eating. Water was all we got from the bad witch, but at least we had some. Avery nearly murdered Derek, so I'm not trying to claim we didn't deserve our penalty. What I'm getting at is that it probably shouldn't have been that close to torture.

Avery and I were both losing weight every day. To keep Avery going, I gave him the remainder of the cookies. I wondered whether I was going to die in this room as I lay on my bed, my stomach throbbing from hunger. I hoped not to perish, but we had to leave a country that deliberately starved children.

Avery put his palm to his stomach and moaned, "Alex, I'm so hungry."

As my stomach rumbled in agony, I told him, "Don't think about it, you'll make it worse."

Then, suddenly, someone opened our door.

Derek rolled his eyes, threw the two plates on the floor, and said, "Since foster parents are coming today, we have to feed you."

I gave Avery a kind nod and nudged over a dish. In a matter of minutes, we had devoured our meal, and Avery was licking the dish clean.

"That was so good," Avery said happily after finishing her meal.

My comment that "her cooking is a bit shit" made Avery smile cheekily.

"What exactly did they mean by adoptive families?" Avery questioned inquiringly, setting the dish back down on the ground.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Someone fosters us until mom comes back or until we're old enough to take care of ourselves."

In other words, "We get to go to the same house because we're brothers right?" Avery inquired, looking anxious. That Avery would have attachment problems with me was completely out of my head. When I went for school, he was OK since his mother was at home, but now that she is gone, he has just me.

All I have right now is Avery.

*****

In the preceding two weeks, a few parents had made visitation appearances. While the other kids were free to roam the halls and play, Avery and I stayed in our rooms and ate, read, and occupied ourselves. At last, Derek was living with an adult couple as a foster child. I still get picked on because of my white hair, and I have no idea why. I really despise the color of my hair. Before moving here, I just wasn't that interested.

When we opened the door, Josephine came in with a few children in tow.

She said to Alex, who was gazing at Avery, "Don't screw up your chance to be chosen today." Avery only glared back at her.

As in, "Why?, Do I have to go?" Embarrassed, I questioned her.

She rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, you have to go Alex." She then gestured down the corridor. Sighing, I got to my feet.

"Don't leave me, Alex!" When Avery reached for my wrist, she implored.

When I nodded to reassure her that "it's okay, I'll be back in a few minutes," she nodded back. With that, he released his grip on my wrist and I was free to go.

As I down the squeaky steps, I rounded a corner and saw a line of kids against the wall. Except for Avery and a select few, most of the students were present. Josephine would send you to your room if you were being disrespectful before the foster family came to take up a youngster. She obviously still had resentment for Avery. The fact that he did it is the greatest thing about him.

There were two older kids and I was in the center of them. I believe she put me here as a disciplinary measure.

As the parents came, I braced myself against the wall and stared ahead. I didn't even recognize them, unlike the other kids who presented them with homemade greeting cards, drawings, and even flowers from the girls' gardens.

I said, "Are you not going to say hi?" A little girl voiced her perplexity.

The thought crossed my mind, "Why would I say hi, they're not my parents?" I spoke it harshly, expecting the small girl to go, but she stayed.

To ask, "How old are you?" The question was prompted by her attempt to establish a scale between our respective statures. To my shoulder's height, at most.

I murmured, "I'm nine," and leaned against the wall.

"I'm nine too!" she said proudly as she joined me in the hallway.

I didn't bother responding; I just didn't have it in me. I had so little to eat that I probably seemed to be famished. Since our mother refused to shop, we seldom had more than a few days' worth of food. Day after day, we hoarded what little food we had, and if there was just enough for me, I wouldn't eat it since Avery was more hungry.

My foster parents were idiots for thinking I was a typical nine-year-old since I never had a regular upbringing. I was old for my years in every way. There were things I knew that I either shouldn't have or didn't want to know. I'm not foolish; I just informed Avery that the needles for my mom were medication. I want him to remain a youngster for as long as possible. One day he'll understand.

The parents were having a good time with the kids, but when I looked over, the mother was staring at me. To myself and the girl next to me, I rolled my eyes as she came closer.

To ask, "What's your name?" The lady stared at me inquiringly.

I scowled back, "Staring isn't polite." As she approached me, a bright grin spread over her face.

She nodded, "I guess it's not," indicating that she agreed.

I scowled and straightened myself before saying, "My name is Alex."

To ask, "How old are you?" She had noticed my height relative to that of the girl next to me and was naturally inquisitive.

I said tentatively, my face blank, "I'm nine."

"Wow, your hair is stunning; I love the color." She reached for my hair with a grin on her face, but I quickly retreated.

After realizing she had gone too far with me, she switched her attention back to the other youngsters.

Josephine's parents finally arrived with her after waiting for a few hours. I believe they were debating which candidate to choose.

To ask, "What's your name?" I finally questioned the small girl who had been close by my side the whole day.

"Hi, I'm Deja; I'm nine as well!" She offered a cheery high five and grinned as she did so. It would have been mean of me not to offer her one. She beamed with delight as I smacked her palm. I couldn't help but grin at her pure happiness.

Deja spoke quietly, looked at the ground, and said, "I don't really like these ones, they're too obsessed with the perfect kids."

"I have Avery to take care of, so who cares if we don't get picked?" I said in an assured voice.

As she smiled gently and said, "I guess you have a point," she agreed.

Deja was a black woman with loose, wavy hair and dark complexion that was not quite as dark as brown. From what I recall, her grin was very lovely.

I don't have someone here to keep me here. She sounded nervous as she talked.

When asked, "You don't have a brother or sister?" I was obviously interested in the topic since I asked a question.

She nodded, her look becoming more and more downcast as she confirmed, "No, it's just me."

The question, "Why haven't you been fostered yet?" I stared at the other kids talking about the foster parents and inquired.

I'm too reserved and uninteresting for anybody to like me. "I don't think there's anything special about me," she said, looking at the wall.

As I nudged her with my elbow and said, "Well, now you have someone to stay for," she laughed nervously.

She smiled and put her head on my shoulder, saying, "Thanks, Alex."

After a little while, I heard my name being called.