Home of the Brave

I got kicked out again.

I like it better than the house. It gets crowded in the bed, with all of us sleeping together. Dad wants it that way. I don't, but I'm a girl, so my opinion don't matter. It's him, his new wife, his girlfriend, his other girlfriend, and all the kids, in a big ol' bed. We shoved two queen sized together for there to be enough room.

My ma's not here anymore, so no one cares about me.

And don't get all in my face about my accent either. I may sound stupid, but I ain't. That's why Ma moved us up here in the first place, so I could get the learnin' in me. It just don't come out much, unless I need it. It ain't my fault she up and died, and Dad shoved all his side pieces under one roof and had them spitting out babies for me to raise.

Me and the CPS lady are real close now. Marcia's nice, and she Had Words with dear ol' Dad, and whichever girlfriend is preggers right now, about their attitude towards me. Marcia don't take no sass, that's for sure. I'm no longer the live-in babysitter, but Marcia doesn't want to pull me just yet. I'm fed, mostly. She'll yank me if it gets bad, but she's hoping they don't get on my case enough that I wanna take off. I got a better shot if I have an education.

It was one of the rug rats that spilled the beans. He told his teacher about the big ol' bed, and Marica was here the next morning. Dad's too proud to sign us up for food stamps or Secret Santa or anything, but of course the little 'uns get nice stuff and my hand-me-downs. But I don't get no brand new neither. Marcia makes regular visits, and says somethin' to Dad or one of the girlfriends, and money appears, and she takes me to one of the secondhand shops. And I come home with some nice stuff, and then she'll say something like she'll see me at school in all my nice clothes, which she is sure none of the girlfriends will take for themselves before I've outgrown it. It keeps 'em from taking everything. They take some, but not much. They know if I complain, Marcia will be back, and angry.

Before that, I just kept my head down, did my work, stayed quiet, ate what I could, took care of the young 'uns when one of the girlfriends dragged me away from my studies. So they could go out “drinking.” Did I do the quote thing right? With money they didn't have, with men that weren't Dad.

Marcia's adopted a few kids that aged out of the system. I'm hoping to be the next.

I talk to the school counselor sometimes. Dad doesn't like it, he says education's lost on girls. But the counselor's decent, taught me a few things, like about infantilization and parentification and sexualization. And narcissists, who are on the lookout for people like me. And red flags.

And then I look at Dad, and his women posse, and some things make a lot of sense.

I miss Ma terribly. She didn't put up with that kind of crap, and though she taught me the importance of family, she didn't raise me to be no doormat neither. But it's hard when they're bigger than me and can slap me around and tell me to sleep outside.

I used to set up a tarp when they did this, but the creepy neighbor boy was getting a little too nosy. The tool shed's too hot. So's the dog house, but it's big, and if I get in, she'll stay out and guard me.

I ain't dumb. I don't got no friends. Not 'cause I don't wanna, but 'cause I know I won't be here long. One way or 'nother, I'm getting out, and I don't want any ties. But I know it means I ain't got no one to cover my back. I got some stuff I wanna keep, so Marcia's been keeping it safe for me at her house.

No, not stupid keepsakes. Where would I get those? Where would my dad have taken me, bought me stuff? Wasted money on me? Things that wouldn't get broken by them when they got mad the next time, or stolen by the goblins? No, this was a bit of stuff from Mom, and Mom's side of the family.

I got some old pencils, from my grandfather. Mom added to it, bought me a colored pencil set when I started drawing. I can do some decent stuff now – I won't win any awards, but you can see what I'm trying to show. And from my grandmother, I got a baby quilt, but with really small squares and sewed carefully. I got a small pack of her quilt patterns, too. A velvet box filled with Mom's other grandfather's drawing tools – he was an engineer of some sort. And some old tattered cards with family recipes on them. Not much, but more than some get, and I treasure them.

Dad doesn't know it, but I took his old marble set from when he was a kid. A sulfite shooter, and a few aggies. From Mom I got my brains, and a little shirt from when I was a baby. And one picture of her. I look kinda like her too, and I thought she was so handsome, so I know I'll grow into it. Handsome, I said, not pretty, and I mean it. I don't got pretty looks, but I ain't worried. Pretty don't last. Handsome does.

Marcia makes me work on my reading and writing. A paper a day, what happened at home last night. She's got a mail hole with the teachers, and I put them there before I walk home.

She tells me to tell it as dispassionately as possible. Those were her words. Don't lie and make more of it, and don't lie and play it down. From my perspective.

So I talk about the fights. What the goblins say to each other, who hit who first, where the spinach got hidden. And who got punished for it, and it wasn't the one who did it. I'll give you a hint, it was me got punished. How the boys are treated better than the girls, and what is said about their places in life. Where the money goes. That's one thing Marcia always says, follow the money trail and you'll find out what they love.

Booze, mostly. They don't even get the good stuff – I remember Mom would give me a tiny drop, then have me drink a whole glass of water, called it a chaser. Now it's just the rotgut stuff, with all glass bottles carefully saved and washed and gone to the basement, where we're not allowed to go. Dad makes his own crap booze down there, out of whatever he can get cheap. Dandelions in the back yard, rotten peaches at the fruit stand, starter mash from a farmer nearby.

Food? Snacks and pudding for the goblins. Marcia said I should have more vegetables, but the girlfriends don't do much cooking. Well, potato chips count, don't they? But they say I shouldn't eat as much, I'm too fat already. Marcia said bad words under her breath when she heard that. Took me to the school nurse, weighed me, something something anemic and underweight. At least I get one square meal at school, and breakfast too, when they can swing it.

Marcia introduced me to the librarian, and she's scary. Nothing happens there that she doesn't know. But she allows me to use the second conference room, with a few other special students, to eat lunch in the quiet. Oh, we can talk, and pass notes, no problem, but we're expected to be tidy and clean up after ourselves. And we can read anything we like, not just what the Principal thinks we can handle at that age. And homework, of course. She even lets us stay after school to do it while she cleans up and puts stuff where it belongs. It takes her a long time to clean up some days, but somehow they're always the days we need it the most, so we keep our mouths shut. And she'll answer polite questions, and help us find answers so we can do it ourselves.

That's how I discovered drawing, and animation. And fantasy in the fiction section. I'm really good at drawing animals, and unicorns and griffons are my favorite. Things with wings, really. To fly away from here. I don't borrow the books, 'cuz I know they'd get destroyed at home just to get me in trouble. I put 'em away nicely, maybe pet them a time or two for being so nice.

That was the way things stood for a while. Not real good, but not real bad either. Marcia made sure I got a cupcake on my birthday at school, 'cuz no one at home remembered for sure.

And then she died.

She hadn't been in school that day, but it wasn't her day to be there neither, so I didn't think anything of it. I didn't know till I got home, and there was Dad, drunker than anything. It had been in the paper. The girlfriends were actually dancing, and he got it in his head to take off that belt of his and give me the hiding I deserved, he said. I made myself into a ball and screamed, though it didn't hurt as bad as he thought. I learned years ago he liked to see women in pain, and he'd stop sooner if you yelled loud about it.

I didn't see, but he tried to do something else, and the girlfriends were screaming for him to stop. I heard his pants zip back up, the sicko.

I was sent to bed without supper. My study room was empty. They'd taken everything.

So I went out the window, and ran.

Marcia lives too far away, but the librarian is a few blocks over. That's what Marcia told me to do, run if I have to, to the librarian's house, and they had me memorize her address. Lucky I got them callous thingies on my feet, 'cuz they sure didn't let me have my shoes.

I musta looked a mess when Ms. Anders opened the door, but she took me in fast. I didn't want her to take pictures, but she insisted, said it was important. So I stood there in my skivvies all sweaty and bloody and cried out while she clicked away, and said curses. She didn't say 'em under her breath like Marcia, which was weird to me. But then food, and a hot bath, and a bed, while she made phone calls.

Marcia's husband showed up. I didn't know she had one.

He looked awful.

They talked, and I listened. They thought I was sleeping, but I'd learned early not to trust anybody. They said nice things about me, and what they'd like to do to my dad, but something about the new CPS agent tapped had already cleaned out Marcia's office and trashed all the reports and wouldn't listen to reason. Marcia'd kept the originals at home, and some copies when she couldn't, but it would take time to rebuild a case. And the librarian was a solid witness, but she knew the sheriff wouldn't get off his lazy fundament without a cattle prod. Adoption would take a while, and the abuse case they could still bring, but it would still take too much time, and they knew the idiots would place me right smack back at home in the meantime. I wouldn't live to see trial if Dad had anything to do with the matter.

I knew what I had to do, but I didn't like it.

At least I wrote a receipt for the money I stole. I'd repay her, one way or the other, but I cleaned out her wallet in the hallway. And I took a few pencils, I'd need them. And the bottle of lotion she'd put on my cuts. It worked pretty good.

I also snuck back home, and took the dog. He didn't even have a name. I'd have to think of one. The house was quiet and dark, so I was extra sneaky, but nothing happened. Sleeping off their bender? I wondered if they gave it to the goblins too. Wouldn't be the first time, to shut them up.

What's that poem, that the teachers had us memorize? Something about taking the road less traveled? There's two roads at the end of town. The big right hand one turns towards the city, down in the valley quite a ways. The other, it goes over the mountain, and I heard there are towns out there. Not that I ever got to visit.

Well, I hoped it would make a difference. That I would make a difference. Somehow.

I turned left, and walked into the dark night.