From Place to Place

Chapter 1-The Curious Case Of June Higgs

Jakie stood in front of me, her eyes staring me down. She wasn't anyone special, not a constant bully. No, but this girl was one who whispered behind my back. Today when she didn't realize I was behind her, she made that mistake.

So I had called her out. My lip dribbled with blood from a cut. She sneered, figuring I wouldn't go any further than tapping her on the shoulder.

Within seconds she was on the ground with her eyes full of fear. I grinned as she scrambled away. I wiped the blood running down my lip away and continued to walk to the bus.

Mar waved from where he was sitting, and I slid in beside him. The bus was suspiciously empty today, perhaps they had caught word of a psycho on the bus.

I'm not a psycho. "Anger issues" as my social worker called it. Well, my first one anyway. Since then I've been labeled with social autism, PTSD and at one point anorexia.

They've managed to skip over larger signs and look for ones that don't exist. Apparently, you have to be messed up as a foster kid.

"How's the foster?" Mar asked.

I shrugged. They seemed alright, but if the school calls I'll be gone within a flash, back to the orphanage.

"Another fight, I presume," Mar said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah. They were asking for it, though." I answered. Mar didn't mind my tendency to fight. He mainly was interested in trying to help me appear somewhat likable.

The bus lurched to a stop and we both navigated the aisle of legs and backpacks. At one point one of the 6th graders that ride our bus peed themselves last week, and that was a mess. We ended up climbing over the seats.

We hopped off the frigid bus into the snowy weather outside. I pulled up the hood on the thin sweatshirt I wore, the only thing I took from home to home.

Mar and I parted ways as he walked to the poorer part of town.

His family wasn't poor, they were a functional family and could pay rent and everything. But they didn't need an extravagant house to live in to show off. So they live in a cheap 2 bedroom apartment.

The wind whipped the hood off and my hair fell into my face. I didn't mind the stinging cold. It took me away from home and anchored me here.

The feeling of the hair agitated me. I could hear every car and every voice and everything and it's so overwhelming and my hands go to my ears and I sit in the snow rocking.

I would have sat there forever if my foster mom didn't come along and took me home. The warmth of the air from the house started to drag the anchor along and I dug my nail into my pants.

The pain re-anchored me in the world. She looked worried as I twisted my hands over and over again.

I was sat down at the fireplace and brought food. The smell flooded my senses and I could function again. I brought the food to my lips.

Diana took off the backpack off of my shoulders and set it by the door. I finished my food and up the stairs I went.

I flopped down on the bed with pajama's on. The light flicked off, I was asleep quickly.

* * *

I awoke to voices downstairs. Quickly I threw on jeans that I had ripped and a shirt. I glanced at the white sweatshirt, carefully laid over the edge of my bed. I slipped it on over my head and smoothed my hair in the mirror.

I crept down the steps. Diana was talking with Poppy, my current social worker, and another woman. Poppy peaking around the corner and waved me over.