...the other half of chapter 4

* * *

Their kitchen was huge, like the rest of the house. He searched the cabinets for cereal and settled for a bowl of Froot-o’s once he’d found the one percent milk.
He saw a paper on the table as he sat down, and pulled it over to his spot. He opened it to a random page and took a bite of cereal. He gagged. To sweet. He got up and went to the sink, pouring the stuff down the drain a turning the disposal on.
He heard Blake’s footsteps before he saw his new foster father. “Hey! Morning, Seth,” Blake said as he walked in.
Seth nodded. “Hey.”
Blake went to a cabinet and took out a granola bar that said Coffee Crumbles on the wrapper. “Want one?” he asked, holding up the box.
Seth shrugged and took one.
Blake had opened the wrapper of his and took a bite. “They’re pretty good,” he said. “Look, I have to take off to work. Sasha’s still in bed. Jenn…I don’t know where she is, actually. But, help yourself to the food…and, um…yeah. Ask Jenn if you need anything.”
“Okay,” Seth said, giving an effort to smile.
Blake smiled back. “Okay, see you later,” he said, waving, and walking out the door.
Seth heard the door slam, and then he was alone again. He wondered what he could do today. It was…Monday…but Jenn was taking the day off of school. Probably because he was there.
He finished his coffee bar and threw the wrapper away in the trash can in the corner by the door. He looked around. What to do?
“Hey, Seth.”
He turned around. Geez, these people were everywhere. “Hi,” he said to Jenn.
She was pulling a cereal box out of a cubbard. “I was gonna eat breakfast,” Jenn said. “Did you wanna do anything today?” she then asked, pouring it into a bowl.
Seth shrugged. “What’s there to do?”
Jenn got out a spoon and milk. “Um…I could show you around town?”
He sat down across from her at the table. It wasn’t like there was anything else to do. “Okay.”
Jenn grinned. “I think you’ll enjoy yourself,” she said.

Chapter 4 (well half of it anyway...)

“Hey Seth,” Sasha’s voice called from the doorway.
He looked up. “Oh, hey,” he said quietly.
Her hair was wet, and she was in her pajamas. Not wearing make-up made her look like a totally different person. She had white slippers on.
“Can I come in?” she asked, smiling wide with her mouthful of white, straight teeth.
Seth looked down at the bag he was unpacking on his bed. “Um, yeah, I guess,” he said, pulling out another shirt, folding it, and putting it on the shirt stack.
She came in and sat on the edge of the bed. “So, how are you liking your new room?” she asked, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Adjusting well?”
He nodded, folding a pair of jeans, not looking up. “’m okay.”
She said nothing, and he made a mental note to practice facial expressions in the mirror sometime soon.
She tapped her fingers on her fleece pajama leg, trying to think. “Uh…do you like the colors?” she asked.
He decided to look up and look around. “Yeah. I like…blue.”
She sighed quietly, but Seth heard. “That’s good.”
He looked at her and tried to smile. Her hand extended to touch him on the cheek, but he automatically flinched away, dropping the jacket he was folding from his hands. He took a step back.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
Seth just stared.
“I should go,” Sasha said, giving a weak, smile. “Goodnight.”

The next morning, he woke in his new bed. The unfamiliar smell made him uncomforable. This always happened to him. He’d move somewhere new, and it had a different smell. The different feel of sheets, colors, and made him twitchy.
Seth had to get out of bed.
He pushed the sheets far enough down to get out of the tangle of blankets. He shook his black hair about his face like a dog, rubbed his eyes, and let out a soft groan. “Urm…”.
He walked to the bathroom, to his right, but the door was shut. Huh, he thought, and knocked.
A muffled “What?” came from behind it, “Oh, crap.” The door opened, and a turban-toweled, pajama’d Jenn with a toothbrush in her mouth stood in front of him. “Mm!” she squealed, and turned quickly to spit toothpaste out. “I’m so sorry, Seth, I forgot! Here, you can come in,” she said, opening the door.
He grabbed the toothbrush he’d put in the holder and squeezed his own toothpaste on it. He brushed and spit into the second sink, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Then he grabbed his little black plastic comb and straightened his bed-hair.
Jenn combed her own hair with a brush. “Sorry, Seth. I swear, I won’t do it again.”
He put the comb by the wall near the mirror. “No, it’s okay.”
“You sure? ‘Cause I could totally get up earlier.”
He shrugged, looking at his reflection. A tall, dark haired, brown eyed boy looked back at him.
Jenn struggled with the comb. “You’re not that bad looking.” She smiled, and laughed. "And your hair looks really anime."
Seth smirked. She was friendly. Which, he guessed, was good. He wouldn’t have to do a ton of talking around her.
“Hey, you got an iPod?” she asked suddenly, opening a drawer full of make-up and pulling out a tan bottle.
He shook his head. “No.”
“’Cause I have an old one, if you want it. It’s a Nano, if that’s okay,” she said, blotting some of the tan liquid out on her finger and putting it on her face.
“I wouldn’t know the difference,” he said just as his stomach growled.
Jenn looked at him. “You should go get some breakfast,” she said, looking back into her magic drawer.
“What’s there to eat?” he asked. Might as well.
Jenn held a green circle container with a little round pad with peach powder in it. She padded some on her face. “Ah…there’s a lot of stuff. Like cereal? There’s frozen waffles in the freezer. Pancake mix, if you know how to make ‘em…and there’s a skillet in the cabinet under the ‘island. Um…I think there’s bagels? I think they’re, like, blueberry or something. I dunno. Oh! And there’s two percent and one percent milk in the ‘fridge. Whatever you prefer…” her voice trailed off as she applied pink powder to her cheeks with a brush.
He nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Hey, anytime,” she said, looking back into the drawer.
As he left he could hear her singing to herself.
He decided he liked her. She was okay. Better than any of the foster siblings he’d had before, who treated him like crap. Jenn treated him like a brother.

* * *

Chapter 3 (not a re-do because i hadn't written a third chapter before!)

“You must be Seth,” a tall gray man said when he opened the door.
Seth nodded.
“Mr. and Mrs. Langley have been expecting you,” the man said.
Jeff held out his hand. “I’m Jeff Greene,” he said.
The man looked at his hand blankly.
“Wade? Is that him?” a lady’s voice called from another room.
Seth looked past the man called Wade. A lady in a nice blouse and jeans hurried out of, as he assumed, the kitchen. “Blake!” she yelled over her shoulder, “Ah, Jenn, go tell you’re father he’s here.”
A brown-haired girl wearing jeans and a concert shirt walked out of a room in socks with an iPod earphone stuck in one ear. She looked about his age. Jenn appeared to hear her mom and rushed into the third room that he could see. “Daaad?!” The noise echoed through their house.
The lady, Sasha, he presumed, came and grabbed the door from Wade.
“Hey! Good to see you!” she said, “I’m Sasha. I don’t know if you remember.”
Seth nodded, but Jeff elbowed him. “Yeah!” he yelped. “I mean, I remember.”
Sasha smiled.
Blake soon appeared, with Jenn, the daughter, following him. “Well, come in!” Sasha grinned. “Welcome!”
Seth picked his bag and guitar up with his left hand and stepped inside.
It was big, but nice. It had a lot of rooms. A computer room, a dining room, and down a hallway was a living room, kitchen, bathroom, and laundry room. There were stairs leading up from the living room into a upstairs hallway and balcony. The walls were painted a deep, soothing crimson.
It felt like a home should.
“Hey!” Blake said, beaming, “You made it!” He patted him on the back.
Seth cracked a smile.
He turned around when he felt something yank on the suitcase. His grip tightened. “Relax,” Jenn said. “C’mon, I’ll show you your room,” she gestured her head towards the stairs. He noticed her earphone had been taken out and tucked safely into her pocket. He wondered what she listened to.

She started walking and he followed her up the stairs, shooting a glace at Jeff, who smiled at him reassuringly. Go on.
“Your room’s here on the left,” she said, leading him down a hallway. “And my room’s next door to yours,” she looked to the right.
Jenn opened his door into a room with the walls painted blue. There was a bed with a blue and black striped comforter on it. A stained wood desk, a dresser, a chair, a stocked bookshelf. Band posters covered the walls.

This was nothing like his room back home, where Mom could barely pay the house bills. He had been eight, Vi had been six. They had slept on a uncovered mattress under the big patchwork quilt that Mom said their grandmother made for Seth when he was a baby. The walls had been white. There was no other furniture other than that one tiny mattress. A light bulb hung uncovered from the ceiling.

Jenn put his bag on the floor. She kept the guitar case in her hand. “You play?”
Seth reached down and put the bag on the bed.
“Do you talk much?” Jenn asked. She pulled the chair out from the desk and turned it around to face him, sitting in it.
Seth sat on the bed, cross-legged with his elbows on his knees and his hands on his face. “I’m tired, okay?”
“Oh,” Jenn said.
Seth looked up at the ceiling. His eyes were wet. Jenn sat dumbly, looking at him, trying to sympathize with something he wouldn’t tell her.
“My sister died,” he said quietly.
Jenn was shocked. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Seth looked down. “You wouldn’t know.”
Seth inspected the room from where he sat. There was a window with dark shades on it. Band posters advertised Three Days Grace, Skillet, Thousand Foot Krutch, 3 Doors Down. “What’s your favorite?” he asked.
“What?” Jenn said.
He studied his shoes with great interest. “Your favorite band.”
Jenn thought. “Mm…I’d have to say Thousand Foot Krutch. Have you heard of them?”
“No.” Seth nudged the guitar with his foot. “I’ve played a Skillet song before.”
Jenn smiled. “Which ones?” she asked. “Could you show me?”
He shook his head and looked down.
“Okay,” Jenn said.
They were silent for awhile.
Jenn shifted in her seat. “Er…how old are you?”
Seth’s attention shifted from the floor back up to her. “Fourteen.”
“No way, so am I.”
“Ki-i-ids!”
They both looked at the door at the same time. “Yeah?!” Jenn shouted.
“Jeff’s leaving!”
Jenn looked at Seth.
He nodded.

At dinner, Sasha and Blake asked Seth a lot of questions. He didn’t like it when they asked questions about his family. He’d try and change the subject. “Please pass the rolls.”
“I like your shirt,” Sasha said.
Seth looked down, not remembering what he’d thrown on earlier that morning. A gray and black striped sweater. Right. “Thanks?” he said.
He shoveled some peas onto his fork and rolled them back and forth, just looking at them blankly. He wasn’t really hungry. He put it down and looked around the dining room for the third time.
The walls were a pear green. There were old paintings of flowers and stuff hanging up on the walls. There was an antique dresser with plates on display in the cabinet part of it. Seth never understood why people would put plates on display. Like, ‘oh, wow, a plate.’ Never seen one of those before.
Jenn sat across from him, chewing thoughtfully on her roasted chicken as she stared. She swallowed an took a bite of mashed potato. “How’d you get into foster care?” she blurted finally.
Seth looked at her with an eyebrow raised.
“Jenn!” Blake exclaimed, nearly choking on a pea.
“What?! It’s an honest question!” she argued.
Sasha busily cut her meat to the right of Seth.
He shrugged. “No, it’s fine,” he said. “My mom’s in prison. Drown a kid. We thought she was crazy, Vi and I did.” He took a bite of chicken.
The table fell silent.
“Good food, by the way,” he said.

(redo) Chapter 2

2.

Everything. Everything here was black. The black air smelled of death. Everyone was wearing it. Everyone carried it.
Seth didn’t cry. Crying never helped anything. And so crying was not an option.
He sat on one of the wooden pews in front. The director of the Court Appointed Special Advocates, Jeff Greene, sat next to him. He knew Jeff. He’d known the black man since he was nine, he trusted him. Jeff put a hand on Seth’s shoulder.
“Do you need to leave?” he asked, reading Seth’s emotions in the way that he did.
Seth shook his head.
The brims of his eyes were wet. He couldn’t see. He wiped them with the sleeve of his black suit. He couldn’t cry.
He’d seen the way his little sister had looked. Dead, pale and cold in her casket. That simply wasn’t her. That wasn’t the Violet he’d grown up with, the Violet he’d played with, the Violet he loved.

After the funeral, Seth got into the car with Jeff. Jeff had some of her things in a box. Seth had it safely placed on his lap, protective hands held the sides tightly.
He remained frozen in the front passenger seat, staring forward. He was very close to crying now. He concentrated on the asphalt road whizzing by.
One tear finally broke free and rolled down his cheek.
He was going to a new home. Again. He didn’t know the people. He’d met them, but that wasn’t the same.

“Good morning…Seth, is it? I’m Blake, and this is Sasha…”

He remembered the interview clearly. It didn’t really matter to him. One place was just like another.
“You need to cry,” Jeff said matter-of-fact-like.
Seth slouched in the seat. “I can’t.”
Jeff glanced at him out of one eye. “Yes, you can. Anyone can cry. I’ve seen you do it.”
Seth just looked at him. His face was straight, but his eyes were sad.
“Look, I’m sorry, Seth. I know this is tough for you,” he flicked his left signal on and turned. “But they want to help.”
They passed a park full of bloomed oaks, encircled with a black, wrought ironed fence. This place was nice, the houses were huge. It was like Hollywood; everyone was rich.
“What if they’re mean to me?” he asked in a cracked voice.
Jeff looked at him. “We very carefully choose homes for you kids.”
“I know, but…still. I wonder.”

They passed a bunch of brick houses, engulfed in green ivy, looking very old. There were hedges that circled the gigantic yards bordered with more of the same gates he saw in the park. They pulled into a driveway and parked. Jeff opened his door.
“I don’t want to go,” Seth said quietly.
Jeff gave him a reassuring look and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “I know, kid.”
He looked around.
Roses grew along-side a brick pathway leading up to the front door, which was glorious in it’s own. Made of some wood that he didn’t know the name of. It was pretty. There were four tall lamp-posts, and a big window that stood above the door. He could see a chandelier in through it.
Jeff opened Seth’s door.
“Let’s go.”

(redo) Chapter 1

1.

He looked out the window, the panes were streaked with rain fallen from the dark gray clouds that overshadowed the hospital. There was a stone courtyard four stories down from it. The bricks were stained from rainy weather over the years, wear and tear. There were forest-green bushes cut into shapes to amuse onlookers passing by.
He sat in a red patterned chair in a plain, gray room. It was uninteresting to him; he liked colors. The room was furnished with a little gray table with a glass cup that held water, the chair, a small black TV, and a hospital bed that contained his sister.
Her foster mom worked, she came only when she could. Sometimes, during school, he’d ditch to see her because nobody else came . During the summer, he stayed for hours.
“How are you today?” he would ask her each day as he came in to sit on the edge of her bed.
“I’m fine, how are you?” she’d reply.
“Great,” he’d say, smiling.
But he was never great. Everything he loved was being pulled out from under him.
His sister was a frail girl of age eleven; her birthday was in two weeks, and she would be twelve. Her favorite color was purple, and she loved giraffes. She had a lavender nightgown with a yellow daisy on the front. He loved her dearly, so dearly. It was the same love that a mother would have for her child; fierce and protective.
All of her beautiful, dark brown hair, same as his, was gone; her skin had faded; her brown eyes had become lifeless; and her lips turned the same gray as the room imprisoning her.
Still, she remained optimistic about her condition. Her doctors said that was the only thing keeping her going, now. They couldn’t do anything for her.
She was going to die.
And very, very soon.

“Hey, Seth?” she asked him one day
“Hey, yeah?” he answered, getting up from the chair. He kneeled at her side. “Do you need more water? Are you hungry? I can get the doctor if you need…”
She had the strangest expression on her face; she felt confused and was in pain and felt really, really weak and unusually tired. “I-I don’t know…I feel, like, like, I dunno…”His eyes widened. “Do you want me to call the doctor? I can…I can do that if you’d like—“
She shook her head and looked at the cup sitting on the gray table. “Can you get me more water?” she asked.
Later that day, she stopped breathing. Seth had kneeled by her side holding her small hand in his and wept very silently. He swept his other hand over her face to close her sightless eyes.
Violet Shepherds was dead.

um...

I like to write in my spare time, as you can see.