The Annex

"She spike my drink, she get low grades, she dye the little children’s hairs…"

I clenched my jaw- silence is my agony. If these were normal circumstances my mouth would be so filthy even Jiff would have no hope in scrubbing it clean. I stared at the purple stiletto heels assaulting the soft baby blue carpet as Bohdana ranted on and on about my many wrongs. Not the rights, the rights would never sell me to the adolescence orphanage.

Adolescence, oh, how positively terrifying! Get me an aspirin, the thought of having kids my own age to pick on is giving me a most dreadful headache!

“She come home drunk, she disappear for days, she get arrested many many times…”

My eyes wandered up the stilettos to the shapely stockinged legs, then higher to the purple suit clinging to the hips and then around the curves, across the shoulders; all the way up to the face- the blemish-free, concerned face, nodding slowly in understanding. And the whole time, the whole time my black eyes bore into this woman's figure, I wondered:

What. The. Fuck?

Jennifer Louise Finch looked far from a children person. Her face was sharp and taught, her eyes shallow and somewhat seducing; her clothing professional and business-like.

I clenched my jaw. How dare she walk in here, in her fancy-pants Manolo Blahnik shoes, thinking she knows everything about me? What my game is; the reason behind my behavior. How dare she come in here and think she can just take me away to the 'perfect teenager factory' and fix me?

From the corner of my eye I saw Bohdana's mouth still moving at an unhealthy pace, her Ukrainian accent jam-packed with stories of my turmoil. She was on a roll and it must have been such a relief to get me off her chest. Poor thing.

And now what’s that noise? That ringing sound? Oh, my mistake, Bohdana has stopped talking; my ears are ringing from the previous strain.

Ms Finch- divorced, children loving Ms Finch, coughed silently into her closed fist. She swallowed and looked from me to my dumping ground mother with a smile.

"Miss Bohdana, Heron, I'm sorry you two haven't been getting along-"

I scoffed.

And the understatement of the year award goes to Jennifer Finch! Come on down and collect your well earned prize of being locked in a closet with a psycho-axe-murderer-rapist...

Ms Finch's eyes flickered to me, but just for a second. She didn’t want to give me the impression that she was even slightly fazed by that disrespectful sound.

"Heron, how would you feel about coming with me to the big kid's orphanage?" I shrugged, wrinkling my nose at her patronizing tone.

"Like my opinion matters…" I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"Perfectly right, it doesn’t" she said, and I found myself already planning her funeral. Miss Mary Blunt turned to Bohdana.

"But you're opinion does. How would you feel Bohdana dear, about losing one of your children. I understand that in some cases the emotional struggle is terrible, especially since you've had her from the age of eleven-"

"Vell, not this case," Bohdana said quickly, grinning at me. It was like Christmas. Can you feel the spirit?

"Then it's settled, Heron sweetheart pack your things."

I fought the impulse to laugh out loud. Jennifer Louise Finch calling someone sweetheart sounded like, well, Jennifer Louise Finch calling someone sweetheart. It looked almost painful, as if her lips weren't made to form those words and she was cutting through tissue trying to do so anyway.

Feel special Heron dearest, she's in pain trying to please you…

I trudged down the stairs, giving my bag a kick head start. Ms Finch ushered me through the hall and I made for the door, freezing on the welcome mat as I remembered something. I dumped my bag at Finch's feet and ran back inside to the giddy Bohdana. I smiled at her mockingly and pulled her into my chest. She stiffened.

"I'm gonna miss you Bohdy," I cooed. I released her and she brushed herself off as if she'd just been attacked by a giant walking dust bunny. Scooping up my bag, I jumped into Ms Finch's car, waving pitifully at the children gathered on the door step.

Ms Finch cleared her throat and I saw her staring at me through the rear view mirror.

"May I help you?" I said monotonously, looking into the eyes on the reflective glass.

"Let's talk about you're education," she said, her eyes switching back to the road.

"There's not much to talk about-"

"-You attend a public school, yes?"

"No,” I lied. Being difficult comes naturally to some.

"Yes?" She pressed, venom on her tongue.

"Yeah..." I murmured.

"Well the children at my children's home all attend Croxley Hall."

"So?"

"You wouldn't want to, would you?"

"Look, I have nothing against private schools but uh, no."

Ms Finch smiled. I didn’t like it. It gave me the creeps.

"Well then, Miss Heron, I suppose I find myself at a viable bargain with you.”

I cock a brow, "How's that?"

Finch licked her lips cunningly, "How about I allow you to continue going to this, public school-"

"Sounds spiffy-"

"-On one condition," her voice was smug and again my brain fast forwarded to her funeral. "You're behavior and grades must be up to standard."

"My standards aren't too high Miss Finch," I informed her, folding my arms and looking out the window.

"Mine are," she said, with an air of authority. I wanted to super glue her forehead to the floor. I hated being told what to do. "So what do you say, do we have a deal?"

I picked at a hole in my jeans, looking for some loophole, searching for a smart ass response. I had nothing.

"Deal,” I sighed.

Game one: Miss Finch.