Sequel: Postcards From... ›
Status: Re-written
The Club Is Open Until 8:00Pm
Seize
Monet's POV
“Attention, due to extreme thundering and lighting, we are forced to cancel today’s soccer and lacrosse practices. Go home on the bus as you normally would.” The principal announced over the intercom, interrupting Mrs. O'Brien's Algebra 1 class. I was already changed for soccer.
Jocelyn, who sat behind me but only for today raised her brow. “Wow, that came out of nowhere. What time is it anyway?” 1:10pm. In my head, I rolled my eyes. I want today to hurry up and be over.
Before I knew it, the last bell of the day rang and the office people were dismissing the pickups and walkers. I was a walker today. I pulled on my hood as I stepped outside. To the Boy’s and Girl’s club I guess. Joanne and Steve wouldn’t pick me up until 6. About the time soccer practice would let out. Who am I kidding. I’ll probably have to walk home today.
I shuffled through the songs on my ipod nano. Coheed and Cambria; Puddle of Mudd; Rush; Bare naked ladies. I went with Smoking In The Boys Room by Brownsville Station. I preferred this version.
A group of girls walked out of the Boy’s and Girl’s club just as I stepped in a puddle. At least the rain is letting up. They giggled about something. My left sneaker squeaked with every step down the polished floor. Now playing was Don’t Take The Girl by Tim McGraw on my ipod.
Mr. Ravallo-Timmins walked in the room where I was working on my math homework. “Ah, buenos dais, Monet!” He said dragging a cart and mop behind him. “Bonjour.” French, Spanish. Get it?
“So, how are we today.” He asked with the usual Mexican accent. I shrugged. “Fine. You?” He sighed contently. “These creaky-old bones are behaving well today.” He’s 60-something and retiring in June. “So I did a little sneaking and found out that your birthday is coming up. The nineteenth.” I nodded. “It’s no big deal. It’s not like I’m ten anymore. Joanne and Steve probably don’t even care.” He knows I’m a foster. I told him because he actually see’s me. He knows me. He’s real.
“I got you something. I’ll give it to you know cause I won’t see you over Spring Break.” He said, standing up and fishing out a plastic bag with what looked like paper money inside. He unfolded it and showed me. “It’s Spanish money from a long time ago.” He said and smiled. “It’s yours if you’d like.” I accepted it and studied it. It looked old and slightly smelled the way it looked. He smiled again before the intercom came on requesting him to cafe area.
I was dark outside when I finally got home. There was a familiar two-door car in the driveway parked behind the van. I opened the door and carried my wet sneakers in, for once not tracking in mud. Joanne better be happy.
I tip-toed upstairs from the hall and I could only imagine the conversation Mrs. Beckett, Joanne and Steve were having. Mrs. Beckett was the ‘principle’ at the center. She managed everything. From the Child Interviews to the Formal Adoption forms. Her goal was to find a home for every child. I’d been in six so far. Each less then 2 months.
I thought I heard the low hum of their voices, but now that I think about it, I probably didn’t.
“Attention, due to extreme thundering and lighting, we are forced to cancel today’s soccer and lacrosse practices. Go home on the bus as you normally would.” The principal announced over the intercom, interrupting Mrs. O'Brien's Algebra 1 class. I was already changed for soccer.
Jocelyn, who sat behind me but only for today raised her brow. “Wow, that came out of nowhere. What time is it anyway?” 1:10pm. In my head, I rolled my eyes. I want today to hurry up and be over.
Before I knew it, the last bell of the day rang and the office people were dismissing the pickups and walkers. I was a walker today. I pulled on my hood as I stepped outside. To the Boy’s and Girl’s club I guess. Joanne and Steve wouldn’t pick me up until 6. About the time soccer practice would let out. Who am I kidding. I’ll probably have to walk home today.
I shuffled through the songs on my ipod nano. Coheed and Cambria; Puddle of Mudd; Rush; Bare naked ladies. I went with Smoking In The Boys Room by Brownsville Station. I preferred this version.
A group of girls walked out of the Boy’s and Girl’s club just as I stepped in a puddle. At least the rain is letting up. They giggled about something. My left sneaker squeaked with every step down the polished floor. Now playing was Don’t Take The Girl by Tim McGraw on my ipod.
Mr. Ravallo-Timmins walked in the room where I was working on my math homework. “Ah, buenos dais, Monet!” He said dragging a cart and mop behind him. “Bonjour.” French, Spanish. Get it?
“So, how are we today.” He asked with the usual Mexican accent. I shrugged. “Fine. You?” He sighed contently. “These creaky-old bones are behaving well today.” He’s 60-something and retiring in June. “So I did a little sneaking and found out that your birthday is coming up. The nineteenth.” I nodded. “It’s no big deal. It’s not like I’m ten anymore. Joanne and Steve probably don’t even care.” He knows I’m a foster. I told him because he actually see’s me. He knows me. He’s real.
“I got you something. I’ll give it to you know cause I won’t see you over Spring Break.” He said, standing up and fishing out a plastic bag with what looked like paper money inside. He unfolded it and showed me. “It’s Spanish money from a long time ago.” He said and smiled. “It’s yours if you’d like.” I accepted it and studied it. It looked old and slightly smelled the way it looked. He smiled again before the intercom came on requesting him to cafe area.
I was dark outside when I finally got home. There was a familiar two-door car in the driveway parked behind the van. I opened the door and carried my wet sneakers in, for once not tracking in mud. Joanne better be happy.
I tip-toed upstairs from the hall and I could only imagine the conversation Mrs. Beckett, Joanne and Steve were having. Mrs. Beckett was the ‘principle’ at the center. She managed everything. From the Child Interviews to the Formal Adoption forms. Her goal was to find a home for every child. I’d been in six so far. Each less then 2 months.
I thought I heard the low hum of their voices, but now that I think about it, I probably didn’t.