Break Free

Chapter 2- (Turn to face the strange) Changes

"But Ruby..."

"No. End. Of. Story."

Today, meeting with our foster mother. Tuesday; high school. I'll be a freshman, and Francisco- Frisco for short- will be in 8th.

Frank, the taxi driver won't stop asking questions. He's got a heavy Brooklyn accent; weird for someone in Nowheresville, North Carolina (okay fine, it's somewhere about 30 miles east of Charlottesville).

"How old are you kids?"

"I'm fifteen, and my brother is fourteen."

"Why are you kids going so far away from home? You're a little young to go that far"

Frisco, even though he was arguing with me about trying to jump out at the nearest stop, looks at me, then at the rearview mirror.

"This is our home, Mr. Frank. Our new home."

Frank gets the memo and shuts up.

Frisco looks out the window, where it looks like it's about to rain. His eyes are the same color as the storm clouds. He's gritting his teeth and rubbing his temple.

I tap on his hand with my fingers, and he looks over at me. I move a little closer to him and take off his glasses.

In Spanish, I say, "I know you're scared, little brother, but maybe this won't be like the last time."

"Or the time I almost got killed?" He also talks back in Spanish. He's referring to the exorcism couple. Thank god I found him after that...

We reach the agency. Frank turns to me, awaiting his money. I give him a fifty, with a ten dollar tip. He tips his cap to us and smirks.

"Good luck, you two." Then in Spanish, he goes, "Wish I could help you out, buddy." This, directed to Frisco. Frisco looks down. He's not so good at people showing him affection or empathy, especially with strangers. He awkwardly shrugs his shoulders and follows me into the agency.

~~~~

Four things I know about my little brother:

He's reckless, and it terrifies me.

He's been hurt too much in his life, and he has too much emotional baggage to go with it.

Besides my father (may he rest in peace) he's the strongest person I know.

I'd rather die than see him get hurt again (or hurt himself again).

I keep these four things in mind as we meet our new foster mother. I make a mental list in my mind:

She's an immigrant, like us

She's 45

She's single

That's all I know.

What if she's as bad as the exorcism couple? Then what?

I don't think anyone can be as bad as the exorcism couple.

Delores and Daniel, may they rot in hell.

"Ruby and..." The lady at the front desk squints at her clipboard. "Sly-"

"Francisco," Frisco grumbles, cutting her off. He usually keeps his calm, but he sort of lost it. I hold his hand like he's a child. He glances at me and then looks down.

The receptionist, whose name tag says Sharon looks at me. "Is that not his birth name?" She tucks auburn hair behind a quite large ear.

"No." I look at him. He's looking at the ground again, and I can tell I've lost him. He's in his own world now, and I'll be lucky if I get even a little bit of eye contact. "But it's the name he goes by." He gives my hand a little squeeze, and I know that I said the right thing.

Sharon seems to understand, even if she doesn't completely. "That's all good and fine, dear. Your new foster mother, Greta Puniskis, is on her way, and she should be here soon." She offered a smile. I gave her a half smile, and that was all she was getting. Frisco simply gave a nod. "You two lovelies can go sit over there."

Frisco taps me on the shoulder. "School? Public school? Every school is the exact same, Ruby." He says it in Spanish, rushing his words.

We're immigrants from Peru, and we came to the states when I was around five. Spanish is our first language, and Frisco uses it the most; I think it's because he really misses Dad. So do I. If the hurricane never happened, he'd still be here. We wouldn't be here in a foster agency with Sharon, terrified to meet some lady named Greta Puniskis.

I miss you, Papi. Frisco does, too. A lot. Pray for us. Pray for Frisco...

After the exorcism couple, Frisco became an atheist. Sometimes, I pray in secret, so I won't upset him.

He's scared. He's always scared of everything. I don't want to scare him anymore.

The doorbell rings, and in steps the strangest woman I have ever laid eyes on. Frisco's mouth goes wide in an 'o'.

Sharon smiles. "Greta! So nice to meet you!"

"Hel-lo, Sha-ron!" Greta Puniskis's voice is light as a cloud. She smiles widely.

Greta- our new mom- is decked out in a long, shapeless black dress with sunflowers. Her hair- sort of a dirty blonde- is frizzy and runs straight down her dress to the tops of her boots. Her glasses are wired and the lenses look as thick as my arm, and she looks tall. Like, maybe six feet tall. But her smile looks warm.

Her crazy green eyes land on Frisco first, then me. "Ah! These must be U-be and Fran-cis-co! My little ančiukai!" She says my name like "oooh-be" and I don't hate it.

Frisco, surprisingly, is the first to stand. "Hi, Mrs. Puniskis. It's very nice to meet you." I know he pronounces her name wrong, and I cover a snort by pretending to cough. His accent rolls out, which she notices.

"Ah, vou are immigrants like me. I love you kids!"

She smiles at Frisco and he smiles back; his lips perk up in the right corner, and then it melts on to a full on, toothy grin. 

No fucking way.

Greta Puniskis is a hit!

Anyone that can make my brother smile is immediately on my good list.

I stand up. "I'm glad too, Ms. Puniskis." She gets a good look at me.

"Ah! A princesė! I love you too, U-be!" She pats my hand, even though she looks ready to give me a bear-hug. "And please, call me mom."

Oh.

No foster parent has even said that. With the older couples, it was "Ma'am" and "Sir". With the younger couples, it was the surnames.

Sharon is the one to break up the group of us. Greta looks so happy she's going to burst.

"Ms. Puniskis? If you don't mind, you have to sign just a few more papers. Then you three will be on your way." She gives us all a smile, and for once Frisco smile back at her.

"O-kay Sha-ron!" She takes the clipboard and sits next to me to fill out the papers.

Frisco leans into me. In Spanish, he goes, "This is the best one we've had yet."

"I know."

"Do you think she'll let me get the medicine?"

I look at him. "I hope so."

I look at Greta- I mean, mom- and watch her smile to herself, as she signs the papers in big, sloppy cursive, she looks up at me, and boops me on the nose before going back to the next page.

I lean into him again. "I think so."