We've Learned to Run from Anything Uncomfortable

Wednesday, May 18th

I got to school today without being accosted by Oliver, without missing the bus, and without getting slosh in my shoes.

Unfortunately, I got to school by riding in the back of an old station wagon, courtesy of my new family. They were completely deranged, I tell you. They were old, really old. And they wouldn’t leave me alone.

I wanted to sit in my room and read a book, but I couldn’t because they had family games ready. They were fostering twelve fucking kids and I didn’t hear one fight that entire night. It was strange and made no sense. Foster kids always fought with each other, especially when there were twelve of them.

Anyways, they piled six of us in ‘Mum’s wagon, and the other six in ‘Pa’s wagon. Only two others go to my high school. But, they are both in the frosh wing, so I didn’t have to share embarrassing smirks with them this morning.

Not to mention, before I rested myself to bed, they had to come in and talk to me about my ‘irresponsible smoking habit’ it was crazy! They ‘didn’t want any cleptos in their home.’

They treated me like I was some kind of fucking criminal. I’m horrified to go home today. Which, by the way, I’m not permitted to go anywhere after school but home. One of the younger kids told me they sit at the bus stop corner and make sure that that’s where I get off at.

If not, I get in ‘big trouble’.

I continued mulling over these rules in my head as I wrenched my locker open, only to have everything in it crash to the floor. I muttered angrily and bent down to pick everything up. I saw a slender hand reach down and pick up my book, titled ‘Looking For Alaska’

I looked up to see a very serious Oli, concentrated on reading the back of this book. Once I gathered up the rest of my stuff and made it back in my locker I turned to face him.

“May I have my book back?”

“I’ll give it ta yeh if yeh agree ta come to meh house todeh.” He smirked.

“Oliver.” I groaned, making a grab for the book.

He held it above his head, in a classic game of, ‘Haha I’m taller than you!’, “I tell yeh, I’m stealin yer book ‘til yeh come over and get it from meh.”

“What’s the point in you stealing my book? I’ll bet you can’t even read.” I smiled.

He clutched his hand to his chest, making a fake ouch noise, “Doll. Tha was hardleh worth sayin. I can read jus fine.”

“Really now?” I smirked, “Why don’t you read that book for me and let me know what you think then? Maybe I’ll consider going out with you.”

“Fine then.” He grinned playfully, “I’ll read this book.”

I grinned back and slammed my locker shut, “Okay.”

“So, I swung by yer bus stop this morning, but yeh weren’t out there. Yeh ain’ hidin from meh, are yeh?”

“No. I’m not hiding from yeh.” I grinned, imitating his accent.

“Well, then where the bloody ’ell were yeh?” He said, throwing his arms up in a mock irritation.

“I got a ride.”

“From who?”

“My foster parents. Good lord Oli.”

“What? I don’ want some creepeh that yeh don know givin yeh a ride ta school.”

I arched my eyebrow at him slightly, smiling.

“I’m not a creepeh!” He sighed loudly, contracting a stare from one of the girls standing close to us.

I got a sudden stab of jealousy as she looked him up and down.

“Oh Doll.” He said, rubbing my arm slightly, “Don’t be getting jealous. Yeh know I like yeh.”

With that, he quickly walked away with my book hanging from his fingers. A shiver sent itself rippling down my back as a smile sneaked onto my lips. He was so cute.

But, I wasn’t going to let him get anywhere close to me. I couldn’t let that happen again. Getting hurt is something I’ve made a habit out of since I was eight years old and I couldn’t re open my heart only for it to be broken again.

Even if all Oli wanted was a friendship, I couldn’t do that. He was too much for me. With the quick comebacks, the sweet voice, his tattoos, and cute little lip piercings. He was too much. His personality came across with too much warmth and caring. It scared me to be completely honest. I was overwhelmed by how sincere and genuine he seemed. I just didn’t want it to be true.

Because that meant that there was no reason for me not to befriend him.

If we became friends, that would mean I’d have to trust him.

Which would turn into telling him things about myself that no one knows.

Which would just end up with me in a big, sobbing mess with a broken heart once again.

“Hey Sam?”

“Yeah?” I asked, spinning around, coming face to face with Bree, one girl that I had almost become friends with.

I had ignored the poor girl mercilessly and never returned her phone calls. When she tried talking to me at school, I told her to just get the hell away from me. She still tries to this day, being as nice to me as possible. I feel bad for her, because she seems like a sweet girl.

“I was just wondering.. I’m sorry if I’m bugging you again..” She said timidly, “But who is that boy you were just talking to? He’s awfully cute.”

I bit my lip harshly as I replied, “Oh, Oli? He’s from England. I think he’s an exchanged student.”

“Oh. Are you still ignoring people?”

My eyes narrowed quickly at her harsh comment, “Um. Yeah, I am.”

“Well, here is a little bit of advice; Oli is hot. Don’t ignore him, okay? Because see those girls over there?” She asked, nodding her head to the left.

I peered behind her left shoulder, “Yeah.”

“They want him. And he isn’t going to stick around forever.”
I rolled my eyes, “Did I say I wanted him?”

I walked away from her and towards my History class. Wearing my emotions plastered on my sleeve isn’t something I do regularly, but Bree always got to me, and she knew that.

Maybe it was because I knew her when I was younger, before my parents left.

Maybe it was because she’s the only person I’ve known who’s continuously tried helping me out after I was rude to her countless times.

Regardless, she got to me. And I found that completely unfair.

I sat down in class just as the bell rang and dreaded the next hour and a half before class decided to end. Once it was over, I quickly gathered my things and sprinted for my locker.

I made it off the bus that day, and sure enough as the two freshman foster kids and I crossed the street to our home, there were Mum and Pa. Sitting on the corner with smiles plastered on their faces and three of the younger kids twisted around their legs.
“Hello Sam, Anna, and Ryan. How was school?” Robert asked.

I stood with my hands in my pockets, letting Ryan and Anna take pilot with this one. My thoughts were scattered, and speaking might just accidentally throw unwanted words out of my mouth.

“It was good.” Ryan sighed.

“Yeah. Good.” Anna added.

“Sam?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine? Are you sure? Fine is a symbol for ‘some thing happened, but I don’t want to say what.’ Would you like to talk about it?” Lucy asked.

I looked up at her, appalled. It seemed like everything someone said, she had to completely over analyze it. It was ridiculous.

“I said I was fine.” I mumbled as we reached the house.

I let Robert, Ryan, Anna, and the three younger ones step in front of me and go inside before I began to walk through the door when Lucy grabbed me by the arm.

“Listen dear. This house isn’t full of secrets and if you are keeping one, I’d like to hear it. I know that you aren’t exactly one of the best foster kids. I’ve read your file miss, and it ain’t pretty.”

I pulled my arm away from her and gingerly rubbed it, “I’m not a bad kid.”

“Your file suggests to me otherwise.”

“Well, my file knows nothing about me. And neither do you.” I hissed, “No one does. And I like it that way.”

“You are living in my house Sam. Therefore, I need to know some things about you. I consider telling me now before I make you tell me.”

I scoffed, hearing her say, Before I make you tell me. How old was this woman?

“I just had a long paper today. I didn’t sleep well last night, being in a new place and all. Is that okay with you?” I asked, the edge in my voice still existent.
Her face lit up and a smile crossed her lips, “That’s perfectly alright. But your tone certainly wasn’t. Now up to the room with you.”

She ushered me through the front door and waited at the bottom of the stairs until I was behind my bedroom door.

I collapsed on my bed and let tears flow freely.

I wish I knew where my stupid parents were sometimes. That way, I’d have someone to unload on besides my stupid fucking notebook. I wanted to lay on someone’s lap and cry until my eyes ached. I wanted to be hugged and given cheap advice like, “It can only get better from here” or “Don’t worry. It will be okay.”

I hated my parents so much. They waited too long to realize they weren’t mature enough for a baby. Way too long.

They fucked me up for my first eight years of life, and just left me so that someone else could work on fucking me up for the remaining nine years of my life I’ve yet to live.

Sometimes, I wish I wasn’t so closed up and air tight. I wanted to be able to tell someone what the fuck was wrong with me, why I chose not to care and why I wanted to be left alone constantly.

It was unfair to people that I didn’t trust, simply because I had been hurt by other people. It was ridiculous I let myself get this far in life without becoming close to one person. I needed someone to be there for me, to love me and care about me in a way that no one has before.

But, I wouldn’t let that happen.

It’s a toss up between need and want.

And want always wins, because I can’t afford to be hurt again.