Spadille

02

Fergus groaned when he heard the heavily accented Irish voice screaming for him to get downstairs. He had gotten only five minutes of shut-eye. He stumbled up, almost falling over his long limbs as he sleep deprived strolled downstairs.

Ms Finlay stood at the doorway, clasping her meaty hands together. “Fergus dear, come 'elp us out in the kitchen, Robert is out... Doing business, and I'd need someone to peel the potatoes, come come!” the tall teenager followed the lumpy woman, feeling bitterness towards Robert. Everyone in the house knew his business. His business was crooked cigarettes and beer bottles.

Fergus sat down on the stool, looking at the huge bucket filled with potatoes sadly. Hopelessness filled him as Ms Finlay left him alone, urging the two dark-skinned twins out of the kitchen with mops in their hands. He could hear them snickering, even though the round woman was scolding them angrily.

Fergus took the knife and decide to get on with it.

So, the thing is, Fergus was an orphan. All his seventeen years of life, he had been in four foster homes, nearly got into fifth one last year. But the foster parents saw how many times he had been brought back and decided against it. Of course, at the time he had felt bitterness about it, don't people have any kind of compassion? To call Ms Finlay and tell her to let Fergus know to start packing his bags, only to leave the boy standing in the rain, not even bothering to call to let them know about their sudden 'change of plans'. The reason he had been bought back so many times, was his rebelliousness as they called it. Fergus couldn't hold back his thirst for tricks and illusions. Apparently, most grown-ups didn't like him hiding a bubble wrapper under a carpet, or placing rows of pop-its under toilet seats.

After that day he had lost all hope in humanity.

He didn't need people who pretend to be his parents anyways. He could do well on his own.
He watched sadly as the pile of potatoes hardly lessened, tiredly, he reached out for the next one, trying to understand why Ms Finlay had chosen him to peel those stupid potatoes anyways.

Ms Finlay wasn't that bad of a person. She was just greedy, the gold and silver around her neck and chubby fingers were proof enough. And Robert Finlay was like a leech to Ms Finlay. He hardly did anything around the place, if the roof needed to be repaired, he'd climb up and possibly fall off a couple of hours later, drunk and missing couple of teeth again. It was a well-known fact that even if it was an orphanage, Catriona Finlay didn't want the kids to get adopted, by the looks of it, she did all in her power to keep kids stuck in the building. Of course, she didn't do anything if a nice couple showed up in search of a kid, she couldn't do anything. But she kept the visitors on minimum by commercing the orphanage as little as possible. All because every kid in the house brought in money from the government.

"ah arsebadger!” Fergus hissed, dropping the knife in the water and sucking his thumb. He looked at his dribble coated thumb, an angry red line covering his pale finger. “Now I can say that those potatoes were peeled by me, with my sweat and blood and phantom tears.” he grumbled, going to pick up the potato that had fallen under the table.