A Hero’s Story
“Admit it! He’s a smoker. Don’t play dumb.”
“I’m not playing dumb, and he just has a bit of smell on him.”
“You’re sugar coating it.”
“Not sugar coating, telling the truth.”
“Be blunt. He has a problem.”
“I am being blunt, he has issues, but no help is needed.”
“Just shut up. You’re only a child.”
“A child I am, but old at heart.”
“Did I mention dramatic?”
“Why, yes. You did.”
For heaven and heck’s sake, what was so wrong about sharing my dull, simple opinion about whether Steve was a smoker or not, I had to admit though I could smell it on him. It was completely scary for two un related orphans to be experienced like this. Steve was in the main office speaking to Katie, the lady at the front desk, learning everything about us. He would be taking us home tonight, and Sheryl just couldn’t breathe any longer. It wasn’t the fact that he smoked that bothered us, but the reason why he smoked was left unsaid. Our real father had told us before he put us in the orphanage, that no one smokes for no reason. They don’t just pick up a cigarette, and have nothing to it. There always is a story. Now, I wouldn’t usually remember his occasional stories, but the night he told us that story, he sent us to the stupid orphanage. I spent the last 18 years of my life there, and finally I come out feeling owned, but I feel sick. Nauseated to be exact. I thought once I found a home I would feel good, safe, and happy, but I just feel like a dog. I can’t be bought or given to, I am only able to be loved by my real family, and this man obviously isn’t my real father. Why should I trust such a… a… Man? He wears worn out converse high tops, Ed Hardy tops, baggy jeans that fall to his ankles, and backwards flat hats with logos that little girls aren’t supposed to know about.
Sheryl and I were walking meters behind Steven Forshenelle, watching his every move. I saw him look at his blackberry glaring at it, put it away, and grab another cigarette. I always would want to ask him, but wouldn’t that bother the man? The first day, while everyone is supposed to get to know each other by asking questions like, “What’s your favourite colour?”, I ask why he smokes. And I would look crazy if I asked that. It is just like asking, “Why do you eat?” The response is either he needs to, or has quit starving himself. I think it is because he needs to. But I always have been the most curious girl in all of the orphanage, and Sheryl always was the least curious, and now being adopted by the same man, made me curious, but she annoyed.
“I don’t understand it, Sheryl. He stands in a way that he has something in his pocket that is not to be seen by any others. He looks as if he is hiding something from everyone. But what? What if we are being adopted by a top secret spy, or a… Um… a… Criminal! That’s it! I have to tell Katie that this man is forbidden to take us home. This is far from okay. We have to tell her, this is scary… I mean, is he going to kill us? Take our brains and- GASP! He will eat us which means he’s a…. he’s a… Human cannibal! What will we do? Escape, run, Sheryl! Before he sees, we don’t have enough time. Just run!” I whispered anxiously awaiting a time to escape the horror scene, but Sheryl looked as if she was watching a comedy show, and I was the comedian. But it looked, and sounded, just as I explained. But maybe I was being unrealistic, and exaggerating the story a bit, but I truly had a hunch, and it didn’t feel good.
Steve finally turned around and tapped his shoe, watching me lean close to Sheryl, and a frightened look on my face became more clear to him now. He waited until I stopped walking so I could look up at him, and explain why I was at least 18 feet away. “You scared? Or you just like the old orphanage better than a life in the city? I get that a lot. I’ve tried eighteen orphanages to make my wife happy, because she is unable to have a child, but every one of them has either run away to the orphanage again, or put themselves in front of-never mind. You can run off, I just don’t know how to explain this to my wife for the 20th time.” He looked down, and smacked his lips, and laughed while shaking his head. “I’m sorry I put this on you girls, just go back to the orphanage, don’t hurt yourself, I would hate to see it for the 15th time this year.”
Sheryl looked at me with shock, and like sappy Sheryl, she ran to Steve and hugged him tight while tears ran down her cheek. “We just wanted a way out, Mr. Forshenelle, out of the orphanage. After all that has happened, we need a real guardian right now. It doesn’t matter if it’s real, but it just has to be. Oh please, let us come home with you and bring a smile to Mrs. Forshenelle’s face!” Sheryl smiled and hugged tighter so she could feel a hug coming back, but she felt nothing but a slight push as a signal that was too dramatic.
“So, Zelia, you want to go run off, hurt yourself and make my life miserable? Or keep telling Sheryl how you are so suspicious about me, how I don’t wear the fanciest clothes because I don’t have enough money to get all suits and black leather shoes? How I am not educated? Well you can shut your mouth, Ms. Queen, I’m sorry I had to listen to that the whole walk here. Oh- and one last thing, I am sorry I took you to a real home so you can have real parents other than the parents you call real who left you in this dump in the first place… So, SORRY. I didn’t know the queen was coming to my home, or I would’ve put on some decent shoes.” He stormed off, holding Sheryl by the hand, and she kept looking back at me motioning not to leave, to stay with her. I could hear his loud, obnoxious voice cursing at his (and by his exact dialogue), ‘Little “BEEP” of a key! “BEEP’in” orphans! He’s “BEEP’in” done with his life’. And then I heard a tumble, and I saw Sheryl crying on the floor repeating over and over, “Don’t swear! It’s wrong!” But Steve wouldn’t listen and pulled Sheryl into the car and slammed the door. He took one look at me, bowed his head, and opened the door with a nod of the head, “My queen.” He said.
I was disgusted. The first day of our new lives I was greeted very rudely in fact. To be frank, very dumbly. You never tell a girl that has been in an orphanage for 18 years and has been tortured greatly and made fun of too much that she is selfish and spoiled.
You just don’t.
But when Sheryl and I stepped a foot into the Dodge Caravan, Steven yelped and cried as loud as he may, “Do not, and I repeat, DO NOT STEP ON THE SEATS.” Sheryl and I jumped at the sudden demand and pushed our ways off the seats. We smiled awkwardly because of the constant glances we received from Steve, which made us very uncomfortable. We couldn’t help but to keep looking at the rear view mirror. We were too worried that he would freak out at us again, but we couldn’t be sure that he would do anything. His jerking of the car, and his cursing at other drivers really scared the heck out of Sheryl. For she had never heard one word outside of, “May I please have some peas? But if I am not to have a second serving, may I be forgiven.” But I have chatted with the senior students at Forstreet High Secondary School. I have been taught some new words.
We carefully made our way out of the car and opened the door to Steve’s home. We heard a loud scream as if someone had been scared inside. Out popped a lady with long, shaggy grey, greasy braids, and a stained apron. “Oh, ladies! How you scared me, deeply.” Sheryl replied nervously, “S-sorry m-madam.”
The lady laughed hysterically. “Why, I do declare! How new you are to this town. Wait, you must be the orphans! Zelia and Sheryl! Well, I am Mrs. Forshenelle, nice to meet you. Do you girls fancy some tea?” Mrs. Forshenelle smiled, revealing her yellow, piano key teeth. “Thank you Mrs. Forshenelle, but we had just eaten.” Mrs. Forshenelle replied sharply.
“Steven Forshenelle! You fed these girls junk like the last orphans? You knew-and I repeated it several times- I prepared a feast including real beef… Steve, meet me in the kitchen, THIS INSTANT.” Sheryl and I awkwardly stood listening to the yelling and banging of Mrs. Forshenelle’s rolling pin hitting Steve’s forehead, and we were worried to see the result of his noggin… We never experience that. Well once, when we were taking a quick peek in the orphanage lounge where they were watching Bugs Bunny. But other than that…
Never.
Steve walked out looking traumatized. “Well, well, well. Look what you idiots have done. My wife hates me for feeding you. You look like you are ready to die from embarrassment, and I have a broken skull at this point. Anything else you want to ruin?”
I glared unintentionally. And of course that just set Steve off. “ Go to your room, lock yourself in there. Fast for a day, don’t talk once, and just sit without any entertainment. Then tell me you know how I feel.” Steve stormed off once again, slamming the kitchen door, and it got the attention of Mrs. Forshenelle. She ran out and brought a questioning look to her pasty, pale face. “What has happened with Mr. Forshenelle?” Sheryl nor I wanted to answer. Her dull brown eyes and greasy grey hair would give you the image of an evil woman, filled with anger, but she honestly was a kind woman. The reason Sheryl and I were frightened of her was because of her strong love for her husband, whom was the complete opposite of herself. She would stand up for him if it meant living a shorter life than he. “Nothing, Mrs. Forshenelle. He has just been a bit grumpy from us… The trouble orphans cause on the first day is very large, madam. It usually drives people crazy!” Mrs. Forshenelle giggled.
“Girls, call me Nancy. And Steven usually is in the jerk mood, but this is over than usual. You girls must be a real pain…” Nancy giggled slightly, and went back to her cooking in the kitchen. “Girls.” She said. Sheryl and I nodded plainly. “Has Steve mentioned anything to you about his work?” I shook my head. “No, Nancy.”
“Oh.” Nancy breathed with a look of relief. “You know, sometimes it slips.”
What does that mean?
“Oh, and girls. I registered you for school. It starts tomorrow and I will be taking you for supplies tonight. So be ready at 7:00 PM. Do not keep me waiting, or I will ask just like Steve. I say it once, not twice, so be prepared. It would also be helpful if you wrote a list of the supplies you need. Anne Marie is just upstairs doing homework- Oh, fettuccini. I forgot to introduce you to Anne Marie. She is Steve’s ex-wife’s daughter whom Steve does not want anything to do with. Go upstairs and ask for a piece of paper and pen for both of you- she is quite a nice girl. Who knew Steve was the father, eh?” I giggled. Anyone is nicer than Steven. I motioned to Sheryl to come upstairs to meet this Anne Marie. I wondered what she looks like?
A girl version of Steve… Uh….
We knocked on the door with embarrassment lurking in through or stomachs. A girl with long, red shiny hair opened the door. Her shirt was filled with rips and tears, and her jeans were sparkling with pink, sparkling spray paint. Her shoes were grey, knitted Uggs, with threads sticking out the back, and salt stains surrounding the front of the shoe. Her eyeliner was black, which looked like Smash Box. Her pink lip stick was perfectly smeared across her lips. The blush on her cheeks looked like it was glued on with super glue, and her nails were painted with a shade of red. “Can I help you, ladies? Sorry to be uninviting but I am working on a sculpture for my art exam. Come in! Come in! I would like some constructive criticism before my examination.”
I hope you enjoyed! Until next time...-Immortal Beloved <3
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