Juncture 4.2

I moved my mouth in a fruitless attempt to respond, but no sound managed to escape. The situation was so absurd that I couldn’t put my thoughts into words.

Kenneth and Sandra both glared at me, waiting for a response. Sandra shifted Ron carefully over to her other shoulder, trying not to wake him.

“I…um.” Good start, dumbass. Several seconds passed before I regained my bearings, swallowed, and kept on talking. “I know. I wasn’t supposed to get detention again.”

Sandra exploded quietly, so as to not wake Ron. “Three! Three detentions in three days, Marc! How do you even accomplish that!?” She whispered in a harsh voice.

I could barely remember what I did to get in detention, so it took a few more tense seconds for me to recall it. Something to do with Simon, if I was remembering clearly. That seemed likely to be it, I was meaner than I should have been to him a lot of the time.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “It’d been a really long week, and I was tired.” It had been a really long day, at least all of the times after the first that I had cycled through it.

Kenneth was breathing deeply through his nostrils, trying to keep himself calm. He had some anger issues, they were obvious to anyone who knew him well enough. I looked at his hands. They were shaking, clenched into iron fists. He was clearly exerting all of his will toward not causing an outburst.

I continued. “I don’t have a good excuse. I know that.”

“You’d damn well better know that, you little punk!” Sandra hissed at me. “We took you in, and this is how you repay us? We haven’t had to talk to the school with any of the other kids we’ve taken in!” Her voice took on an icy quality, a crystalline hardness that threatened to shatter, “This attitude you have is belligerent, and rude, and selfish.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but she swung her free hand sharply in front of me to cut me off. She kept talking, not breaking eye contact, continuing to glare, “If things continue like this, we’re not going to put up with it any more. I’m sure there are other foster homes where the parents would be willing to put up with your shit!”

I leaned backward as she leaned forward, almost spitting into my mouth as vitriol flew through her lips.

The sad thing was that these episodes weren’t all too unusual when I was living there. I would be on the taking end of a tongue-lashing at least once a week, often for a good reason, often for no reason at all. If she hadn’t had a good day at work, she would chew me out. If a stranger side-eyed her, she would take it out on me.

I had gotten used to it while I was there, but since the past few months (or apparent hours) my mental shields had weakened. I cringed as she yelled, but for the most part I didn’t respond. I kept looking toward Kenneth, to see if he was boiling over.

I wasn’t worried about Sandra. She was all bark and no bite. Kenneth was the one I needed to worry about. He looked really angry, but he was holding himself back. If he got to a point where he wasn’t able to do that anymore I would be in serious trouble.

Luckily for me he was pacing. It was one of the tricks he had learned over the years to deal with his temper.

Ron still hadn’t woken up. That was good for me. If things got too bad, I knew that I could make enough noise to wake him up, which would distract Sandra and Kenneth from me, and I might be able to slip away.

Sandra was looking at me expectantly. “Well? She asked, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I don’t really have anything to say,” I replied, “I don’t have a good excuse.”

I heard a strangled grunt, and Kenneth exited the room. Sandra gave me one last backward glance and left after him. I got up and closed the door, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

Yeah, I wouldn’t have any trouble leaving. After I couldn’t hear any footsteps, I opened my closet, looking for the small overnight bag I kept in there. I put it on my bed and started packing.

I didn’t have much in the house that I wanted to keep, but there were a few things. I grabbed a couple of books that I had filled with sketches and shoved them into the bottom of the bag. They were cool, and I thought that I had some good ideas in there.

Next went a bag of small change that I had been saving for a couple of years. It probably wasn’t worth all that much, but there was no point in leaving it here. I also grabbed the battered Gameboy from my night stand, along with a few games.

That was it, then. I zipped the bag closed and searched my room for a pen and paper. I wasn’t going to disappear and leave Kenneth and Sandra without anything. As unlikeable as they were, they did take me in. And even after I had been a constant source of trouble, they had never followed through on their threats of giving me up.

I found a pen, and tore a piece of paper out of a nearby notebook. I crouched down in front of the night stand and began the tedious process of writing.

“Sandra and Kenneth…”