The Annex

The eyes, they stared at me like a deer caught in the headlights. The spotlight was on me, captivating everyone's attention. I really didn't like it.

My eyes wandered from the tips of my converse to the blue of the ceiling above, then skimmed the eyes as they fell back down again. The stares were so amazingly intense, I expected a laser beam to come shooting out of one...

Any minute now…

These kids really need to get out more.

My gaze was drifting its repetitive route back up to the ceiling when it fell on a girl. A girl whose eyes were on her nails. I studied her reproachfully; her red hair fell loosely over her shoulders, a stylish white headband keeping it out of her blemish-free, tanned face. My eyes wondered down her body to where a green, low cut tank top hugged her thin frame and a short, white flowing skirt skimmed the middle of her thighs. I cocked a brow at the Cinderella slippers gracing her feet.

I didn't know Ms Finch encouraged prostitution.

I smirked at my own lame joke and flickered my gaze back to the girl's face. Her hazel-green eyes were now fixed disgustedly on me. My smirk faded into a grimace as the girl turned to her friend and whispered loudly in her ear. As planned, the whole room heard and the orbs looked at me in revulsion. I narrowed my eyes at the girl and opened my mouth to tell her where she could stick her false accusation when Ms Finch walked in. I close my mouth abruptly, remembering our previous bargain.

"Good afternoon children," she said stiffly.

"Good morning Ms Finch," they replied in perfect unison. It freaked me out. Finch's lips attempted a smile and failed terribly.

"As you all have noticed, we have a new addition to our family," she continued, folding her hands and turning her glassy eyes on me, "Heron, would you like to introduce yourself?"

"Not particularly," she hardened her stare, "But my opinion doesnt matter..." I inhaled deeply and brought my gaze to my junk yard associates.

"My name's Herron," I looedk sideways at Finchy, whose expression was that of peaceful satisfaction- it was quite disturbing,"And I'm not lesbian, sorry to disappoint you Ginger," I nodded at the girl and she scowled.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Ms Finch struggled to keep her temper. A little boy flailed his hands in the air and I wondered what he was doing there. What happened to Adolescence? I watched him inquisitively as his face began to grow puce.

"Heron, Matthew has a question for you," prompted Jennifer Finch. The boy gasped in some air and I continued to look at him curiously.

"What's a lesnian?" his voice was far too loud for his squat little body. I grinned at his enthusiasm.

"Well Matthew-"

"-Children why don’t you introduce yourselves?" interrupted Ms Finch. I glanced across at her; she looked like she was going to burst a vein.

Well someone's sex deprived.

"Names and ages, that's all we need to know," she snapped, rubbing her temples. She nodded at a little girl on the left end of the semi-circle before tottering over to 'Ginger' and sitting down.

"Kirsten Wells, 13,"

"Stephanie ,13,"

"Alex Johanson, 14,"

"Jackson Scholar, 13,"

"My name's Matthew Greeves and I'm 6!"

"Olivia Hadley, 16,"

"Jordan, 14,"

"Michael, 17,"

"Tyler Sprouse, 15,"

"Hannah, 15,"

"Embry Greeves, 16," Ginger's voice was sharp and unfriendly. I smiled sweetly at her before switching my gaze to the boy on the other side of Ms Finch. I sealed my lips to stop my jaw from dropping.

"Aidan," his voice was a low growl, deep within his chest "17," He smiled at me though his lips didn't budge; it was all in his eyes.

I nodded and rocked on my heels awkwardly, looking at Ms Finch for what to do next. She ignored my gaze and tapped her watch.

"Dinner is at 6:00 sharp, I expect you to be washed and at the table by no later than 5:50."

"Yes Ms Finch."

Ms Finch did that strange, twitchy thing with her lips again, before disappearing into her quarters. I looked around aimlessly as the other children stood up and left. I turned in the direction of the kitchen and wandered over; I was famished and it was only 5:00. I put an open palm on the swinging door only to be held back by a big hand on my shoulder. I turned around to be met by a broad chest.

"No snacks," my eyes wandered up the torso to meet Aidan's deep-set, hazel eyes.

"I'm hungry," I said as he removed his hand.

"Too bad. Finch gets pissed if anyone sets foot in her kitchen, especially kids like us." I looked at him quizzically as his eyes twitched for observers, "I keep some stuff stashed in my room though," he whispered, jerking a thumb towards the ceiling.

I smiled and he led me up the stairs, taking a left at the landing. Aidan stopped at the last door in the passage, looked left and right before opening the door and ushering me inside.

"So, where're you from?" he asked, folding up a corner of the carpet and getting down on his knees.I watched him curiously as he removed a loose floorboard and produced two packets of chips.

"I got transferred down from St. Kilda," I said, catching the bag and sitting down. Aidan nodded and sat opposite, "What about you?" he swallowed before responding.

"Juvenile delinquent," I nodded understandably.

"When did you get caught?"

"5 years ago."

"Ah."

Except for the crunching of salt and vinegar potato chips, the room was silent. Aidan zoned out and my eyes roamed his face, tracing the smooth curves of his lips, the perfect ridge of his nose and the wet, hazel eyes as they wandered my features too. I look down in embarrassment as he diverted his attention to the voice calling from downstairs. He apologetically snatched the food from my grasp and shoved it back under the floorboards, dusting all evidence after it.

"Common, dinner's ready if you're late she'll-"

"-get pissed?" Aidan nodded before giving me a hand up.

I slid into the dining room where a table of 7 were already eating. Ignoring Ms Finch's disapproving stare, I shoved myself into the last available seat. She cleared her throat and again, I ignored her.

"Heron, please get up," all eyes are on me as I continued picking at the weedy excuse of a salad on my plate. Finch leaned in; I felt her breath brush my cheek.

"Heron, are you forgetting our previous bargain?" she whispered, her voice lingering in my ear.

Silently; obediently, I dropped the fork and got to my feet. Ms Finch gestured towards a table and I stiffly made my way over. Taking the seat opposite Aidan, I spitefully glared at the faces paused in mid-chew. I muttered a few profanities before letting my eyes drop to the shit-in-a-bowl placed in front of me. I looked over at the other table where the children were digging into generous slices of shepherd's pie and back to my own where the kids stirred their slop.

"Are we being punished or something?" I whispered at Aidan. He looked up; nose wrinkled, eyes scowling.

"You could say that," he said, words dripping with poison. I lifted a brow and followed his gaze to the other table, lifting the spoon to my lips. "Left-over's from two weeks ago, don't eat it."

Goop splashed over the table and into the lap of my jeans as I dropped the spoon in haste. I looked around the table and watched the apathetic jaw movements, the stretch of brown skin, the parcels of spit and shit rolling down the shapely gullets.

"Everyone else is fine," I whispered. Aidan was still playing darts with Ms Finch's head.

Teeth gritted, eyes hard, he muttered, "For now."

I noted the presence of a paranoid psycho on my mental manifest and continued studying the other's at my table. My eyes scanned their munching brown cheeks, their dark hair, their dark eyes, they fell in realization to my dark hands. My head whipped round to the fair children on the happy table and my eyebrows furrowed in fury.

"Racist bitch!" I breathed.

"Took you long enough," Aidan's voice came slowly, slumping down in his chair. I was about to begin a rant when I noticed his eyes twitch north; a shadow had fallen on the table.

"Not hungry?" said Ms Finch, eyes sparkling. And I found myself ready to smash the bowl of shit against her skull. Or maybe ready to smash it on the table and use the jagged pieces of glass to impale her...her writhing, squirming, flailing body gushing masses of metallic, salty blood...

"No."

Her lips curled inwards into a long thin line and she stalked away. Aidan watched mewatch him

"Tried doing anything about it?" I said, stirring my slush. Aidan batted his eyelids.

"Walk me to Juvie?"

"Alright, alright, no need for sarcasm buddy," I muttered darkly.

The bed was old. I pressed my ear to the mattress and wiggled my bum; the springs snapped with a metallic clang. I kicked my feet into the air and everything hips-up tried to follow. More springs snapped upon my landing. When the game lost its fun, I roll onto my back, crossing my arms and staring at the shadows splashing the ceiling. The silence ringing in my ears was interrupted by a low groan. I tuned in and frowned in concentration, it was coming from the hall. Eager for action I jumped out of bed; in two strides I was at the door, jiggling the loose knob and flinging it open. The sound was louder now, muffled but audibly louder. I paced up the hall; eyes darting into each room.

The feeling hit me before anything else- before the sound of vomit grating the sensitive skin on what should be the throat's one-way road, before the acrid smell of stomach acid mingling with half-digested food on the carpet; before the vision of the hot sweaty child, hanging upside down on his bed, puking his guts out.

The feeling was itchy, it itched and scratched and stinged at my brain. If it was a smell, it would’ve been that of hydrogen peroxide. Hot and cold, acidic and biting, gnawing, gnawing, gnawing into my thoughts. I rushed over to the boy who I recognized as Jackson, his shoulder-length dark hair was plastered over his face, caked on with sweat, saliva and vomit. In one big heave the feeling busts through the barricade and into mymind; the itching scattered but the stinging worsened. And then, like a light in the dark, a sparkle, the answer: food poisoning.

I helped the boy into a sitting position and grabbed the rubbish bin from the corner. I pulled his hair behind his ears and pushed his head over the bin.

Breathing uneven, eyes heavy, body weak he gasped "Thank you," before throwing up again. I nodded and reached for the bottle of water placed on his side table.

"Drink, you're unbelievably dehydrated," I cocked a brow at my own words; I didn’t know how I knew all this. A light switched on and footsteps thundered the stairs. Ms Finch burst in, breathing heavily. She shoved me out of the way.

"Heron! Why are you out of bed?" she didn’t yell and that surprised me.

"I heard him-"

"-Why didn't you come to me?" she looked at Jackson for the first time and cringed, "It's all over the carpet" she looked angrily at the vomiting boy.

"We need to get him to a hospital, he's really dehydrated."

"I dont believe you've shown me you're medical degree, Heron," she said darkly, keeping her distance from the vomit, "It's just a bit of food poisoning it-"

"-Wouldn't have happened if you hadn't given him food so off it was reproducing asexually?"

Ms Finch smiled, and oh, it was creepy. She tossed her hair out of her face and pulled her dressing gown tighter around her shoulders.

"Exactly," she turned and headed for the door.

"Aren't you gonna get someone?" I yelled, rubbing Jackson's back. She paused.

"And get thrown in jail? Not in your lifetime Heron," she said gingerly, stalking out into the hall and back downstairs.

I growled inwardly, my head was still stinging. My eyes dropped to the floor, watching the silhouette of my chest rising and falling with deep breaths of fury. Another shadow was lying next to my torso; I followed it up the curly wires to the edge of the wall, up the wall to the plastic bottom of the hall phone. I whispered soothing words to Jackson and tiptoed to the phone. The lights flicked off, a door slammed. I picked up the phone and my fingers found their way to the number 0.