Smitten: Part I-Zerrin Read online



  Copyright © 2012 Patria L. Dunn (Patria Dunn-Rowe)

  All rights reserved

  Smitten

  (Part I: Zerrin )

  By

  Patria L. Dunn

  Apologies

  Why did they have to die during the winter? The days were depressing enough, pale gray, low lying clouds cushioning the dreary looking sky from sun up to sun down. I pulled my thin jacket around me as I walked quickly into the steady growing wind, my eyes following the rustling brown leaves as they danced across the sidewalk ahead of me. It almost made me smile to imagine that it was their way of welcoming me for a visit with them; but remembrance of where I was headed never ceased, and I instead bit my chapped lower lip until the warmth of my own blood seeped onto my tongue, eventually trickling down my painfully dry throat.

  My eyes shifted briefly as a peal of laughter caught in the wind, the opposite side of the street vacant of any occupants. Just on the other side, one street away was a bustling town, store signs and streets lights illuminating the way into the town’s center. I’d grown up here, and I knew if I crossed the street and made a left, I would pass the old dance studio where I’d taken lessons since I was five years old. Beyond that, a few more turns and I would be headed in the direction of my old high school. I pictured myself, as I had been a few years before, anxious to meet my friends under the massive oak that marked the beginning of ‘Eagle’ territory. I’d been a cheerleader then, and on a night like this, I would have been warmly dressed in my junior varsity cheerleading jacket and warm-ups, preparing to go to the football game with my friends; the same friends that had apologized until they were blue in the face over my parents’ deaths. There was nothing any of them could do to console me, and I suppose they were almost relieved when I moved. My teeth chattered in protest as I inhaled sharply, the memory of that day shooting, what felt like, tiny shards of glass through my heart.

  After the funeral, I’d taken to my room, and remained there for a full week, refusing to come out for anyone. I didn’t know the woman that took up residence in my parent’s guest room, and I certainly didn’t acknowledge her during her time there. She’d explained to me that I’d become a ward of the state, and that I would not be allowed to remain in my home. I hadn’t understood entirely what she was saying until another woman had shown up to take me away, most of my belongings left behind, as my new family –The Pernickle’s- didn’t have the room to store it all, or so they claimed. I’d been angry then, but I was even angrier now…

  If my parents were still alive, I wouldn’t be shivering from the cold that pierced the worn fabric of the second hand clothing hanging around my thin frame. I resented the fact that I hadn’t been in the car with them that night. The debate over Jessica’s slumber party seemed so trivial an argument to win looking back on it now. The disappointment etched in my mother’s regretful expression when she’d given me permission to go had brought a sense of triumph to my thirteen-year-old mind, then. The party was all that had been talked about for the last few weeks at school, and only a select few –the elite as they were referred to- had been asked to attend, including me. It would have been social suicide had I not gone, and at the time it dramatically took precedence over family night at the movies. I’d just become an official teenager a month earlier, yet I’d cried, begged and pleaded until they’d finally given in. I wasn’t a child anymore, and my mother’s worries, that Jessica’s parents weren’t the proper definition of what they deemed responsible, had seemed ridiculous. They wanted to hold on to the little girl I no longer was, and at the time, I was itching for that teenage freedom I’d heard so much about from all the other girls at school. How I wished now that I hadn’t been so childish about the matter. My mother had been right, of course. I’d found myself locked in a basement closet on the first spin of the game, seven seconds in heaven, Jessica’s parents nowhere to be found. Some how the fact that it was a co-ed sleepover hadn’t been mentioned to me or my parents, and the humiliation of having my prepubescent chest squeezed, just as the door was flung open, was reputation shattering in that moment. But the phone call that came from the hospital several hours later was earth shattering.

  It had now been five years to the day, and my mood still changed with the season, cold and uninviting. I suppose most people viewed my demeanor as always being this way, and I let them think it. No one really knew me here, and that’s the way I wanted it. This would never be my home, and with graduation and my eighteenth birthday fast approaching, I couldn’t wait to get out of the Pernickle’s house for good. I was sure to be in trouble for taking the city bus across the river from Waterville to Winslow, but I’d never missed visiting my parent’s graves on the anniversary of their death, and I wasn’t going to this year. I could already hear the cast iron gates of the town cemetery creaking in protest against the chilly wind that suddenly gusted overhead with an intensified fury. Winter had barely set in, and yet we’d already received two significant snowstorms in the last month. One look at the clouds told me that I should head back before the one they’d been calling for all week finally hit; but I trudged on, making the turn that led to the cemetery entrance. I didn’t bother to look around for a security guard as I pulled the chained gate far enough that it allowed a big enough crack, between the doors, for me to slip through.

  Since the new cemetery had been added a few years back, this old one had been gradually neglected, and finally forgotten. I thought myself to be the only one that actually came to visit anyone laid to rest here, as I’d never seen another living soul anywhere near the place. The crinkled brown leaves that had danced about in the wind on the side walk were too thick to do much of anything but lay where they had fallen for years, piled almost as high as some of the tombstones. I tried lifting my knees as I waded through the remnants of fall, my eyes staid on the direction I was heading. I’d been here so many times that I no longer needed to search for the section my parents were in. Sadness settled as my legs slowed, my now damp tennis shoes feeling like lead weights as I approached the only clear patch of ground ahead of me.

  It had been a month since I’d last come here, and I was pleased to see that their graves were almost as tidy as I’d left it the last time. There were only a few leaves covering the dead grass, and I knelt slowly, brushing them aside, until my hand touched one of the two marble plaques that seemed to be embedded in the hard ground. There had been no family around to help pay for the small funeral that was held for my parents; so the state of Maine had issued out the standard, plain markers that were reserved for graves such as the one’s belonging to my parents.

  “November 5th, George and Caroline Cassidy,” I read out loud, my soft voice lost in the howling wind as I crossed my legs, sitting Indian style on the frozen ground, facing the markers.

  “Hi mom. Hi dad,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the etchings in the cool marble as the first tears fell.

  “Alana, you shouldn’t be out here in the cold sweat pea,” I imagined my dad saying back to me, his lips curling into a cunning smile as he reached to pinch one of my cheeks.

  “I miss you… I miss you both so, so much…” I sniffled now, my nose partly running from the cold, and partly from the tears that continued to stream down my face, warming my frozen cheeks. “I know it’s been a while since I came to see you, but the Pernickles… they just don’t understand… I can’t talk to them like I would talk to you. All they care about is themselves. The last time I came…” I let my voice trail off, the words continuing in my head.

  The last time I’d come to visit my parents’ graves, getting home almost after dinner, I’d been whipped with a leather belt across my back for what seemed like an eternity. But, I didn’t know if I wanted to tell
my parents that. They probably already felt guilty enough for leaving me here all by myself.

  “It wasn’t good…” I whispered instead, licking away the salty tear that had settled in the dip of my upper lip.

  “Oh honey…” I could almost hear my mother saying, her fingers brushing my face, like they always did when she was concerned about me.

  “I don’t know if I can do this much longer mom,” I cried now, my voice catching and breaking long before the words ceased. “I’m so lonely. I’m miserable there. School is…” I paused, thinking back on the constant snickers and stares I got behind my back, everyone either pointing or whispering about my ragged clothes, or destitute appearance in general. Foster care had brought me nothing but anguish. The Pernickles, the family I’d been placed with after my parent’s died, cared nothing for the five children they had in their care. The money we received each month for clothing and other needs was pocketed along with the money they received for allowing us to stay in their home. I’d resorted to stealing feminine items from other girls’ bags and lockers during gym at school, just to insure that an unsightly blotch didn’t further embarrass me during my time of the month.

  “I have no friends,” I finally sighed, my eyes closing as I lowered my head almost to my lap, my palms now pressed on each plaque. “I want to get out of here, but where will I go? College is out… I could get a job, but where will I live until I have enough money to pay rent? My old friends are all over on the east side here in Winslow, and even if they were willing to help, they won’t be around either after graduation. Waterville is so…so…” I stopped short as I bit back the derogatory words that had formed in my head, ashamed to speak them out loud in my parents’ presence.

  Waterville, Maine was nothing but the backwoods of a place I used to love. On the east side where I’d grown up, I’d had money to shop whenever I wanted. I kept up with the latest fashions and trends. I ate lunch at school whenever I wanted, and there was no begging for dinner because my stomach had been empty for days on end. Most importantly, on the east side, I’d had parents who loved me; friends that cared to call me, or visit me. Here on the west side of the river, there was no one. There were no ballet classes to go to, or summer camp to look forward to. I now considered myself lucky to have my own cot; my own room would have been too much to wish for. Here I was not Alana Cassidy… Here, I was just empty.

  “Tell me what to do,” I pleaded, my words almost silent as I finally opened my eyes, my palms uncovering the names of my parents just as a single green leaf landed on my frozen fingers.

  “Is this supposed to be a sign,” I sniffled hopefully, my eyes lifting to the naked trees, their branches bare of anything but dead stems that had refused to fall.

  “Tell me!” I screamed, crushing the pretty green leaf in my palm as I jumped to a stand. “Tell me what I did to deserve this! Tell me why you took my parents away from me!” My voice came ragged and harsh as I shook my fist at the only one I thought for sure could possibly hear me. “Why did you do this to me!?” I cried now, sobbing as I sank back to the cold ground, my form bent, so that my forehead touched the brittle grass.

  If I died here, no one would be any wiser. Sure, the Pernickle’s would miss the monthly check they received for me from the state, but I highly doubted that they would even report me missing. That’s how little they cared. I wanted it all to be over with. The fading scars on each of my wrists proved that, but I didn’t have the guts to try and go that way again. I would have been happy to have stayed in the psych ward, locked away from the world; but apparently my acting hadn’t been good enough to keep me longer than the six weeks of recovery I was allowed. I wondered now, how long it would take a person to freeze to death…? The temperature had sat at well below freezing for the last few days, so I was sure that if I laid here long enough…

  The thought trickled and faded, my body subconsciously following the idea as I fell gently to my side, my legs curling upwards so that my arms wrapped firmly around them, my knees now touching my skin. My cheek happened to be pressed against my mother’s plaque, so I moved my head just a little, so that my exposed ear cupped the cold marble, listening for what I knew wouldn’t come. The cold wasn’t so bad now, I’d almost stopped shivering, and though I could no longer feel my fingers or toes, I was actually glad that I didn’t have to endure physical pain added in with the emotional pain that never ceased. I breathed slowly counting the seconds between each gust of wind as I waited for the inevitable.

  “Let it be quick. I want to see your faces again,” I whispered softly, my chilled lips barely moving as my words trickled out. “Take me away…. Take me away… Take me away…” I chanted the words slowly, a whispered song coming forth as I allowed my eyes to close against the swaying tree branches.

  I couldn’t go back there. Though I would never admit it, a soft spot had grown in my heart for Roman, my sixteen-year-old foster brother. He’d lost his parents too, only they weren’t dead. His father had left when he was ten, and his mother had fallen back into her old habits of using illegal drugs shortly thereafter. I only knew this because it had been thrown in his face on several occasions when Martin Pernickle had tried to punish him for something.

  Like me, Roman never really spoke to anyone, but I saw the pain in his eyes, and I sometimes heard the soft sniffles coming from his room in the middle of the night. We had an understanding, him and I; and I only hoped he would forgive me for leaving him there alone. The look in his eyes when I’d finally returned after the suicide attempt had said it all. We had a bond, albeit an unspoken one, but we understood each other. He would fight for me if I needed him too, I was sure of it. Just as I was sure that he would hate me for not saying goodbye.

  “I love you…” I exhaled softly, my lungs now burning from the cold that seemed to stick to my insides.

  It shouldn’t be long now…

  “We love you too…”

  My head jerked as I heard the faint words, my eyes opening to the almost dark sky.

  “Mom…?” I whispered, my ears now straining for what I was sure was her voice I’d just heard.

  “Go back Alana,”

  “Dad!” I shrieked, pushing myself awkwardly to a stand with stiff limbs.

  The howling wind was the only one that answered me, its call low and moaning as I let my eyes scan the distance of the fenced in cemetery. Either I was going crazy, or I’d just heard my parents speak to me for the first time since their death.

  “I love you too mom and dad,” I whispered, fresh hot tears soaking the sleeve of the thin gray jacket I wore as I wiped them away quickly.

  They wanted me to go back, I was sure of it. Rebellion set in almost immediately as I thought ahead to what I had waiting for me back at the Pernickle’s house. My body had made a small indentation in the ground where I’d lain, and it would be so easy to settle there again and wait the storm out.

  “No Alana,” I heard the voice clearly this time, and I didn’t brush away the tears that came as I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the sky.

  The first snowflake of the approaching storm touched my cheek just then, and I smiled back at them, my heart lightening, just a little as I felt a warmth seep through me.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I promised, ducking my head into the slowly falling flurries as I made my way out of the darkened cemetery.

  It was too late for apologies, but I said the words any way, knowing that they would understand what I meant. I’d hurt them by not going with them that day, and because of that, we’d never gotten a chance to have another family night. They were gone forever, and I was still here.

  “I’m sorry…”

  Home, Not So Sweet Home

  While I’d never been happy to see the Pernickle’s home come into view before, I would have laughed now, with joy, had I been able to move my lips. My plan had been to ride the city bus back over the river from Winslow to Waterville, and then catch a cab the rest of the way, but snow covered roads had quickly
suspended all public transportation, and I’d been forced to walk all of the five miles leading from the last city bus stop, out towards the Pernickle’s farm. I hadn’t the strength to lift my arm to check the time, but the last time I’d looked it was after seven. I braced myself as I opened the front door, preparing mentally for the beating that was sure to come.

  “I’m home,” I called softly, peeking into the living room, almost afraid of who I would find looking back at me.

  A sigh of relief caught in my throat as my eyes landed on the empty loveseat and sofa. The room looked as it always did, clothes piled high on every piece of furniture, including the worn coffee table, old baby bottles turned over in the floor, the left over milk inside slowly congealing into a solid mass. Unopened book bags lay in front of the television that had been left on, and I shook my head in disgust as I made my way down the hall, towards the kitchen. If I wasn’t around to help the twins with their homework, it just didn’t get done. The Pernickle’s couldn’t be bothered with actually raising and nurturing the kids the state placed with them, their only motivation for even letting us live here were the monthly checks they received for our care.

  “Lana!” Shelly’s squeaky voice greeted me first, her eyes going immediately to Martin Pernickle’s fat face, as he cleared his throat in warning at her outburst.

  I knew I was blacklisted for coming in the house so late, and that meant no one was to acknowledge me, not even the younger kids. I refused to meet his gaze, and instead sneaked a peek at Roman, who’s head was down, his fork playing in a brownish yellow pile of mush that seemed stuck to the middle of his plate. The baby, Ranger, was wailing as usual, a smattering of green and orange baby food decorating the top of his broken high chair, and the floor around it. I wanted to tell Jo Pernickle that the baby didn’t like peas or carrots, and would only eat them if she stirred it in with something else, but I held my tongue as she shoved his highchair roughly, causing it to skid away from the table.

  “You’re late!” She snapped, her lips curling in annoyance as she looked from me to her husband.

  The way her head was angled made her look even more like an angry beaver, slightly bucked teeth, one yellow, one brown clicking together as she continued.

  “Ya gonna do sumthin bout that?” She asked him, an almost evil look in her eye as she nodded towards me, her thin cheeks now suction inward so that her face looked skeletal. “And you’re dripping all over my floor,” She commented, cutting a look at Shelly, who’d dared snicker out loud while I was being scolded.

  I hadn’t noticed that I’d literally begun to melt right there in the kitchen doorway. Snow that had been caked in my hair, and on my clothes moments before, was now dripping to form a puddle at my feet.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up,” I mumbled, self consciously folding my arms over my growling stomach as I chanced a glance at the plate of mush that sat untouched across from Roman.

  “It won’t do any good now, you done probably tracked it all over the house! What were you thinking coming in like that, and this late too? Have you lost your mind?!” Jo Pernickle shrieked, slamming her fork down as she looked to her husband to back her up.

  “Everything we do for you all, and this is the thanks we get! Always disobeying the rules, always pissing me off! You ungrateful little snot! Don’t you have something better to say than that!?”

  “Her parents died today…”

  Roman’s voice was so soft that I barely even heard it, and I flinched for him as Jo jumped from her chair, her hand already rising to smack him across the face for answering the question that was directed at me.

  “Enough!” Martin Pernickle declared, his eyes cutting at Roman and then to me.

  I didn’t dare move as his gaze swept my body from head to toe, a look of disdain on his face as he took in the sopping wet shoes I now shifted nervously in. His bulging belly yawned a deep gurgling sound, undoubtedly angry that I’d interrupted its meal. Shelly hid a snicker beneath her hand, Martin’s eyes switching from me to her.

  “Go to your room and change, your dinner’s gettin’ cold,” he finally said, his knife scraping against the plate as he began to cut another piece of his t-bone steak.

  “Yes sir,” I mumbled, shock shifting through me as I turned immediately down the hallway off the kitchen, almost running to the tiny room I shared with Shelly and the baby.

  There was no way I’d gotten off that easy, and I wasn’t sure why Roman had come to my defense. He knew that I’d broken the rules and would be punished accordingly. He’d only put himself in jeopardy by speaking up, and there was no point in both of us getting into trouble. We were to come home on the bus immediately after school, no matter what. Every few months I broke that rule to go visit my parent’s grave, and each time I did, the beating was worse than the last.

  “I know you’re in here,” I whispered softly as my bedroom door clicked shut behind me. I’d heard the sniffles coming from the corner before I’d even stepped in the room good, and there was only one person missing from the dinner table.

  “Thomas…?” I called the little boy’s name, my back turning from where he was hiding in my laundry basket.

  I knew he wouldn’t answer me, but I continued talking anyway, knowing that he would listen to what I had to say.

  “I saw your backpack in front of the television, so I’m guessing you didn’t do your homework… Remember what we talked about Thomas? I’m not going to always be here, and you and Shelly have to start doing things like that on your own. What is your teacher going to say when you go back tomorrow with none of your homework done?” I asked, moving in the dark around the sagging cot that had been my bed since coming to live here.

  I hadn’t turned on the light in my room, but there wasn’t much light needed to find the only other pair of jeans I owned. My fingers trembled as I peeled off the wet clothes that still clung to my body, my hands brushing furiously over chilled skin that now burned in pain. It was always cold in this room, but there was no need to brace myself against the shock of the cold floor once my feet were bare. They were completely numb, and I worried now that the ability to wiggle my toes would never return. My parents would have probably rushed me to a doctor, terrified that I’d gotten frostbite. But they weren’t here, and the Pernickle’s would only laugh if I even brought it up. They would only say I should have come home on time, and had brought it on myself.

  There was nothing I could do about it but put on the heaviest socks I owned, and since I didn’t own any really thick ones, I put on all three pairs of socks I’d stored in the cardboard box under my bed. The jeans I’d pulled on, plus the two sweaters I saved for especially cold days, and I could finally feel my body warming up a little. The movement was helping too, and next on my agenda was my wet hair. I finger combed it as best I could, using the end of my thin sheet to dry the excess moisture from its tips. I hadn’t had a proper haircut since before my parent’s death, and in the last five years, my hair had grown from a sophisticated bob, to a wild mass of sandy brown locks that hit somewhere around the middle of my back.

  It was impossible to do anything with it, and so I braided it to the side, most of the uneven layers falling free before I’d reached the tip. I could hear Thomas shifting in the basket behind me, and I turned towards him now, my arms held out for him to come to me. At six years old, he was the least defiant of the twins, his sister Shelly almost always being the one to get in trouble for something she’d done. I heard, rather than saw him move out of the laundry basket and cross the tiny room, his breath sucking in sharply as I picked him up and cradled him against my chest.

  He looked so much like his sister with his hair pushed out of his face, a little length and a head band, he would have surely been mistaken for her. An upturned pixie shaped nose ran a trail of snot past his upper lips, his sniffles sucking it back in ever so often.

  “Why are you crying?” I whispered into the little boy’s ear, his tears wetting my neck as he wrapped hi
s thin arms around me. “Thomas…?” I questioned again, lowering myself to the cot so that he could sit on my lap.

  His breath sucked in again, this time a low moan escaping his throat, when my hand pressed against his back to keep him from falling from my grasp. I knew immediately that he was hurt, and I leaned, holding him tightly until my fingers caught the switch of the lamp that sat on the floor next to the cot. The room was suddenly flooded in the warm yellow light, and I shifted upright, my eyes now on the top of his head.

  “Thomas… Are you hurt?” I questioned, my fingers probing his back gently, as I lifted his chin so that he was looking up at me.

  There was fear is his dark brown eyes, fat teardrops steady filling the lower lids and spilling as he shook his head no, once.

  “We don’t lie to each other Thomas…remember?” I prompted, lowering my voice even further. “If they did something to you, I need to know…” I paused as his face changed, his eyes widening suddenly as he began pushing my hands away from him. “I won’t tell!” I rushed on, holding him on my lap now, squeezing him more tightly than I wanted to.

  He finally stopped moving, and for a moment silence hung between us, as I let him decide whether or not to tell me what had happened.

  “She beat me,” he finally mumbled, his head falling against my chest with a thump, the weight of it knocking a whoosh of air from my lungs.

  I figured that much, but I let him continue talking as I slowly pulled the back of his shirt up so that it was around his neck.

  “We went to get the eggs, like always. I wasn’t running, I swear Lana,” Thomas sniffled, his head shaking now as he glanced up at me. “I never run,” he whispered pitifully, his hair falling over his eyes as he settled his head back against my chest. “I tripped. There was a stick in the yard, and I tripped. I didn’t mean to break the eggs, I really didn’t.”

  “She did this to you,” I whispered, my eyes now downcast as my gaze swept his bare back, my fingers grazing the angry red whelps that blossomed from his skin in a design so intricate that I couldn’t even tell how many times she’d hit him.

  “He’s going to kill me Lana, I know he is. After dinner… She said he’s going to beat me too! I broke the eggs!” Thomas cried now, his words muffled in my sweater as he gripped me tightly.

  “He’s not going to beat you I promise. I’ll take you away from here tonight if he even tries,” I promised, anger slamming through me as I held his shaking body.

  None of us had done anything to deserve this life. Roman and I were old enough to defend ourselves if it came down to it, but Shelly and Thomas were only six. Ranger, the baby hadn’t even begun walking yet, and at ten months old, he would have a hell of a life if someone didn’t get him out of here. I’d somehow taken on the mothering role of all three of them, and it pissed me off every time one of them was hurt this badly.

  “Did you eat?” I asked, moving Thomas from my lap and laying him on my pillow.

  My gut wrenched, when he shook his head no, my own hunger pangs threatening to eat me alive if I didn’t get something in my belly.

  “I’ll bring you half of mine,” I promised, pulling the sheet over him before kissing his cheek. “Stop crying,” I whispered into his hair, pulling him into one more hug. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I have to go in there, but I’ll be back, okay?” I asked, hating the doubt that etched his innocent features as I stood from the narrow cot.

  I was already in trouble for coming home late, so I had no problem saying something to the Pernickles’ about Thomas’ condition. I would be out of here in a few months, and another beating at the hands of Martin Pernickle would only strengthen my hatred for them, making me even more determined to not stay here any longer than the state required.

  “Ninety Eight days,” I whispered to myself as I made my way back to the kitchen, my feet padding softly on the cracked linoleum.

  They heard me coming, but only Roman looked up, his mouth pulling into a quick smile before adjusting his eyes back to the untouched food on his plate. I took the chair across from him, picking up the fork that had been left for me before I finally opened my mouth to speak.

  “You could have broken something, or even killed him,” I said, my eyes on Jo Pernickle as she shot me an annoyed glance.

  “Eat your food Alana, you already have the same coming to you. Don’t make it worse,” she answered, snatching a bit of t-bone from her fork and chewing loudly.

  “I don’t care if you beat me. You can beat me now if you want,” I replied boldly, my stomach flip flopping as Martin Pernickle’s eyes came to rest of my face. “Thomas is hurt, and he’s hungry. I’m going to bandage him up this time, but there isn’t going to be a next time…”

  “Or what…?” Martin Pernickle asked gruffly, baring his stained yellow teeth as his lips turned upward in a snarl.

  Defiance rose within me, and I ignored the kick under the table I received from Roman, his eyes pleading with me not to push the issue. These challenges never ended well, and I was the only one that knew the real reason why Roman had spent eight weeks with his arm in a cast last summer. Martin Penickle had broken it after Roman refused to skin a deer he’d shot that day. It wasn’t going to end well for me, and we both knew it, but I suddenly didn’t care. I’d been quiet long enough.

  “Do you like the checks you’ve been getting from the state each month? We sit here and eat this…this…Sh…. MESS…” I corrected myself as Shelly’s eyes widened at the word that had almost slipped from my mouth. “And yet, you punish us. You beat them like they’re grown men, and then you expect us to not say anything. I have the right to visit my parent’s graves whenever I want, and even so, I only go once a month. I’m not going to stand for you hurting the little ones anymore. You lay a finger on Thomas tonight, and you’ll have to kill me to keep me from going to the police,” I threatened, my words sounding a lot less menacing out loud than they did in my head.

  “Don’t ask for something you know you don’t want,” Martin Pernickle’s words came cold and hard, causing my heart to almost jump right out of my chest.

  My eyes met his, and I gritted my teeth, raising my chin to let him know that I wasn’t scared of him. No one could see that my legs were shaking under the table, and I was sure only Roman noticed how tightly I was gripping the fork now to keep from dropping it. I wasn’t sure who this girl was that dared challenge either of the Pernickle’s. Something had finally snapped inside of me, and I knew that he saw it in my eyes, his knife lowering slowly to rest beside his plate before he grabbed my wrist in a vice like grip.

  “OUT!” Martin Pernickle shouted, bits of food flying from his mouth across the table ahead of his sweeping gaze.

  Shelly didn’t have to be told twice, her chair hit the floor with a bang as she scampered from the table and down the hall, our bedroom door slamming shut behind her. I jerked once, trying to free my arm to no avail, my eyes still holding Martin Pernickle’s evil stare. The bones in my wrist felt as it they would snap at any moment, but I didn’t cry out from the pain. That’s exactly what he wanted.

  “Didn’t you hear me boy? I said get out!” Martin Pernickle warned Roman now, his other fist slamming on the table in anger.

  “Roman please…” I tried, but my voice was too shaky to continue.

  There she was, the scared little girl that I’d been for the last five years, threatening to break through the newly birthed version of me. I felt the tears coming, and I swallowed hard, my eyes shifting to Roman’s worried face for a moment. If a look could have said it all, then Martin Pernickle would have known that Roman would kill him before he let anything happen to me. I almost smiled as I caught the hardened expression Roman now wore, his own fork gripped between his slim fingers, ready to use in my defense. His voice was steady, and my gaze shifted back to Martin Pernickle as the words sunk in.

  “I’m not leaving…”

  Simply put, but epic to watch as the soft spoken statement settled b
etween the four of us. For once, Jo Pernickle had nothing to say, her words caught somewhere, no doubt, in the choking gasp she exhaled on. My fingers flexed as Martin Pernickle’s grip lessened on my wrist, a smirk now etched in the aging lines of his face as his gaze finally fell from mine. It was a small victory, and one I would probably never see again, but I rejoiced inside, the new me taking root as I shot a daring look at Jo Pernickle.

  Her dull brown eyes immediately fell to her plate, her matching mousy brown hair covering most of her face as she refused to look at me. I wanted to think that my newly shown streak of defiance had caused the sudden turn around with the Pernickles, but something just wasn’t right. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the head shake from Martin Pernickle, and the nervous look he gave his wife when her mouth opened and then closed. There was a reason that the next world war hadn’t just broken out in the kitchen, and my eyes narrowed in suspicion now, my gaze sweeping around the room for a clue.

  “That’s mine,” I stated bluntly, not bothering to point out the out of place Louis Vuitton luggage set that sat in the corner by the back door.

  There was nothing luxurious about this old farmhouse, and I doubted Jo Pernickle even knew how to pronounce the name the designer the bags were named after. They’d been a gift from my parents for my thirteenth birthday, something I would have used on my trip to the Hampton’s, but I’d never gotten to go. A mother, daughter retreat is what they’d called it, my mom’s way of spending a few more precious moments with her little girl. I hadn’t seen the luggage since the day I moved in, and had assumed that they’d sold it off at the local pawn shop, but there they were, stacked according to size in a neat little row.

  I suddenly understood now why Martin Pernickle had backed down so suddenly. They were putting me out! And there was no way they would send me anywhere with bruises all over me. My relief was short lived as my eyes fell on Roman’s, his face confused now as he looked from me to the bags.

  “I’m…borrowing them,” Jo Pernickle finally answered, her explanation less than forthcoming.

  “Wait…so I’m not…leaving then…?” I managed, disappointment shooting through me, despite the shift in Roman’s expression.

  “You have three more months until you’re eighteen honey, and by then we’ll be…”

  “Jo,” Martin Pernickle’s tone cut her sarcasm short, her eyes rolling as she jumped up from the table, leaving her unfinished plate of food.

  “I’m going to finish packing,” She retorted, her bony hips bumping the high chair that still sat in the middle of the floor.

  Her stomps were enough to shake the table, and I moved to rescue a sleeping Ranger from the now rocking high chair, before it could tip over with him in it. No one spoke as I busied myself with fixing him a bottle, his wails only quieting once I’d cradled him in my arms and began the pace back and forth in front of the sink. He was dirty, and in need of a bath, but my mind was more focused on the Pernickle’s impending trip.

  “We’ve got some business to take care of …out of town,” Martin Pernickle chose his words carefully, his hand rising as my mouth opened to protest.

  “Don’t think you got away with anything here tonight. Only because we’re leaving in the next hour or so am I’m letting it go for now. You will get just what I promised if you don’t do as I say while we’re gone. The state checks your school attendance, so that’s where you’ll be. Alana, you know the rules, and you will take care of this house. I want the kids on their chores, and I want my dogs fed. I got a big hunt coming up when I get back,” Martin Pernickle explained, already rising from his chair. “We won’t be gone more than a week, and this…” He paused, pointing at the luggage in the corner. “…Stays between us.”

  “Or…what…? What’s to stop us from walking out that door right behind you?” Roman asked, rising as well so that he was almost eye level with Martin Pernickle.

  I felt the testosterone flowing between the two of them, and I knew that we’d pushed the boundaries enough for one night. I’d always thought there was evil in Martin Pernickle’s dark eyes, and I didn’t like the way they now fell to the discarded steak knife as he answered slowly.

  “If you value your life, you won’t run.”

  Straight and to the point. My hand on Roman’s arm wasn’t needed, he knew when to let something go, and this was one of those times. I followed him out of the kitchen and down the hall, not daring to look back at the man whose eyes were still on my back. We were only a paycheck to him, and I knew he meant what he’d said. I wanted to reach out and touch Roman’s silky brown locks as he tossed one last look over his shoulder at me, but I didn’t. He disappeared into his room, and I went into mine, closing the door behind me.

  I didn’t know how they expected to me to go to school, and take care of the baby. Martin Pernickle hadn’t said. During the day Jo worked, and I knew there was a babysitter, but how would I contact her? Would she expect payment, or had they handled that already? The questions tumbled around in my head, but there was no making sense of it. The Pernickle’s had never taken a trip before, and I certainly never expected them to leave us here on our own. I knew without looking that there wasn’t much food in the refrigerator, not that they ever fed us much anyway. Something just wasn’t right; I felt it in my gut.

  “Mom, Dad… I need you. I don’t know what to do…” I whispered out loud, settling myself on the cot opposite the sleeping twins.

  Ranger jumped as I laid him on top of me, my arms curling over his tiny body to keep him from rolling off. I couldn’t feel their presence here, like I did in the graveyard, but I hoped…especially after today… I listened for something, anything that would qualify as a sign from either of them, but the only sounds that reached me was Jo Pernickle’s hushed whispers. They were arguing about something, but I only caught pieces of the conversation.

  “She can’t know…”

  “I wasn’t going…”

  “You need to keep it together…”

  “If it doesn’t happen now, then we’re…”

  Their voices faded as they moved from their bedroom and back into the kitchen. I heard keys jingling, and then the sound of Martin Pernickle’s truck being started. I wanted to wish them dead…wish that they wrecked in the snow, or wish that they never returned, but I couldn’t… I wanted to believe that they were family to someone, and I would never want that someone to feel the hurt I lived with every day.

  The noise outside had alerted the dogs, and I could hear them all barking at once now, the sound even more ferocious than usual. I’d never known anyone to hunt with pit bulls, but Martin did, starving them for days before a hunt so that they were blood thirsty. Why he’d instructed me to feed them now was beyond me. He knew I never even went into the backyard, much less near the kennel, and with them barking like that, I wouldn’t start now. I listened for what felt like another hour, before I finally heard the back door slam shut, the truck pulling slowly out of the yard shortly after that.

  Roman must have been listening too because I heard his door creak open almost immediately, a silent pause, and then the unmistakable whine of the floorboards as he tipped from his room into mine. I smiled to myself as his eyes fell on my cot first, his face alarmed until he spotted the twins tangled together in a mass under my pillow and sheet. The baby didn’t wake this time when I moved him, laying him on the cot before rising to a stand.

  “I didn’t see you over there,” Roman commented, his gaze moving back to the twins.

  “They were sleep, I didn’t want to move them,” I explained, motioning to my cot.

  “So…tonight…”

  “Was…”

  “Crazy…?”

  “Unexpected…?” I offered at the same time he did, shaking my head at the events of the last two hours.

  “Something’s not right,” Roman shook his head too, his silky brown locks dancing across his dark brown eyes as he looked at me again.

  “I was thinking the same thi
ng, but what? How am I supposed to take care of the kids? How am I supposed to go to school? There is no food…” I whispered now, the frustration of it all causing tears to gather at the corner of my eyes. “I just want out,” I breathed, my shoulders sagging now as Roman reached for me.

  It wasn’t the first time that he consoled me, but it was usually an awkward pat on the back, or a tug on my hair. I couldn’t stop the tears when he pulled me to him gently, his hand cradling my head against his chest as if I were a baby myself. His heart seemed to be thumping a million miles a minute, but he didn’t seem scared. His solid frame more than held my drooping one, rocking me from side to side for a minute before he pecked the top of my head awkwardly with a kiss.

  “You shouldn’t have said that tonight you know?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips as I shot a look of disbelief up at him.

  I saw in his eyes that he was only kidding, and was actually proud of me for finally standing up to them.

  “I just wish it had been me… Sooner than this…” he added, his head ducking now so that his hair hid his eyes from my view.

  I wanted, as I’d wanted so many times before, to push it out of his face so that I could fully see his features, but I didn’t move. I knew that his brow had probably knitted together, his expression etched into that boyish scowl of his. His lips, I could plainly see, pressed together over straight even teeth in disappointment.

  “You stood up for me; you stayed…” I whispered, releasing the hold I had on his waist as he took a step back.

  “You didn’t think I would let him hurt you did you?” Roman asked, his eyes showing the hurt he felt as he took in my words.

  He immediately thought that I’d doubted him, when that had never been the case.

  “No… I know we don’t talk much, but…” I blushed now, my words halting as I scrambled for something that was less sappy than I love you.

  “You knew…”

  “Yeah…I knew you wouldn’t,” I agreed, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.

  “So what do we do now?” Roman asked, breaking the moment that had swelled into unfamiliar territory between us.

  I shrugged in response, following him as he stepped back out into the hallway.

  “We could always search their room,” he suggested, a mischievous smile touching his lips as he started towards the door at the end.

  “Have you ever been in there? They would know! We can’t!” I protested, grabbing his arm as he turned the knob, a soft click sounding from within. “It’s probably booby trapped or something…”

  “Alana…really? They aren’t that smart,” Roman shook his head, digging in his pockets now. “I need something…sharp…”

  I didn’t want to go in their room. They had warned us before leaving, and I wasn’t taking that warning lightly. I couldn’t help but look behind me towards the kitchen, almost expecting them to walk back through the door at any moment. The thought of Jo Pernickle flossing around with my Louis Vuitton luggage was enough to change my mind.

  “Will this work?” I asked, tapping the safety pin that was holding my ripped belt loop in place on my jeans.

  “Perfect!” he whispered, smiling as I unhooked and handed him the pin.

  I wanted to ask if he had even done this before…broken into someone’s room or house, but instead I pressed my lips tightly together, holding back the protest that threatened to spill free as the lock clicked again. The knob turned smoothly this time, and I shook my head as Roman gave me a look over his shoulder before pushing the door all the way open. Since moving here, I’d only caught a glimpse of the Pernickle’s bedroom, and it was always the same: stained brown carpeting, the edge of a king size bed, and an old mirror that hung just above it. I didn’t realize that my eyes were shut until I heard Roman’s voice call to me.

  “You coming…?”

  I jumped forward, my eyes going to my own bedroom door, before taking a step into the Pernickle’s bedroom. If Shelly were to wake up now, she would surely spill the beans that we’d broken in. The thought was lost as I surveyed my surroundings, my nose turning upward as my gaze met Roman’s. It was a mess, just like the rest of the house. Dirty clothes, trash, and dishes covered every available surface, including the top of the small television they had sitting on a dresser against the wall. My skin crawled at the thought of touching anything in here, judging from the foul odor that something had to be growing in the carpet.

  “Where in the world do we start?” I wondered out loud, tip toeing around an overturned plate of molding food that was stuck to the floor.

  “These all look like bills, letters, and…check stubs,” Roman offered, pulling a stack of papers from a cardboard box that sat on the nightstand.

  “I’ll start there…why don’t you keep looking…?” I suggested, holding out my hand for the cleanest thing in the room.

  “Look for anything dated close to today’s date…A ticket, a hotel reservation…anything…”

  “Well be careful; we don’t want them to know we’ve been snooping,” I warned, just as Roman tripped over a picture frame that was lying in the middle of the floor.

  “Is it…?”

  “It’s not broken,” he sighed, picking up the wooden frame and turning it over. “Home Sweet Home,” he read from the top of the apple drawing, holding it up so that I could see.

  “More like home, NOT so sweet home,” I commented, shaking my head as he placed it carefully back where it had been on the floor.

  “Just keep looking, there’s bound to be something somewhere in here… We just have to find it.”

  Into The Woods

  I knew I was dreaming, but I didn’t want to let go yet. The tiny voice was coming through the fog louder and louder, causing the scene in front of me to blur and scatter into jagged pieces. I could see my parents standing just beyond the patch of grass beneath my feet, but there was now a chasm there, its depths reaching dark and black into nothingness. I tried calling to them, but my voice didn’t come. My mother’s face blurred and then came into focus once again, her smile turning into a frown as she extended her hand to me once more. My father also had his hands outstretched as if he would catch me if I jumped, but fear crept through me as the grass gave way a little more, turning into tiny pebbles that slid downward from under my feet. The air seemed thinner and I breathed deeply as the voice called to me again, a sudden pressure on my shoulder, pulling me backwards away from the hole.

  “No!” I cried, swallowing the lump that had settled in the back of my throat; I wasn’t ready to go.

  There was no running start. I didn’t have time. My fingers reached, a smile touching my lips as the circle of light behind my parents grew brighter. The wind came suddenly, my feet barely passing the middle of the chasm before I was sucked downward, a scream caught in my throat as they disappeared from view. I was falling and they were no longer there to catch me. The pressure on my shoulder was heavier now, jerking me about so that my body turned into a twirling spin. Light! I saw light, and it was coming at me through the dark walls, dots of it illuminating my descent as I fell. The voice was clearer now; and I looked up, my hand shielding my eyes from the bright white flash as I jerked away.

  “Are we going to school today?” Shelly’s voice reached me now, clear and whiny, her cold hand shocking me into taking in a ragged breath.

  “What time is it?!” I bolted upright, confused at my surroundings for a minute.

  I’d fallen asleep in the Pernickle’s room, on the floor. My body ached in protest as I shifted upright, my muscles screaming against the pain as I straightened my legs from the awkward position I’d slept in. The stack of papers I’d been sifting through last night was now crumbled under and around me, some of them stuck to the dirty carpet.

  “Oh my god! Roman!” I called, jumping to a stand, ignoring Shelly as she tugged on my hand.

  He would have looked cute, had he not been curled up on the bottom of the Pernickle’s bed with an envelope stuck to his
cheek. His hair was wild, pushed back off his forehead, and sticking out in every direction. His bottom lip seemed to be turned into a permanent pout, and he grunted softly when I tapped his shoulder, his brow wrinkling in annoyance. My eyes went to Shelly as she looked at me expectantly, her expression giving way to the question I’m sure she was dying to ask.

  “Jo forgot something. They went on a trip,” I tried for a smile, even though Shelly had already begun to shake her head. “She asked Roman and me to come in here and look for a special paper for her. We must have fallen asleep…” I paused as Roman’s eyes opened, his head turning to look at the two of us.

  “Shit!” he whispered groggily, his hand going over his face as he rolled from the bed and to his feet in one motion.

  “Roman! You said a bad word!” Shelly accused, her own hand covering her mouth as she pointed at him now.

  “We are going to school, and we’re going to miss the bus if we don’t hurry,” I directed Shelly now, my hands firmly on her shoulder as I led her out of the room and back into the hallway.

  Relief swept through me when I spotted Ranger, still sleeping exactly where I had laid him the night before on the cot. It was irresponsible of me to have fallen asleep like that, and I was lucky he hadn’t fallen off the bed or worse, gotten tangled in the sheet that now hung down to the floor.

  “I got Thomas, you get Shelly and the baby,” Roman instructed, picking up a still sleeping Thomas from my cot.

  “Thank you,” I murmured gratefully, already pulling out clothes for Shelly and the baby to change into.

  We had fifteen minutes before the bus would be at the end of our driveway, so I dressed Shelly first, leaving the baby to sleep as I went into the kitchen to find something to put in the backpacks for lunch. Dishes lay right where we’d left them last night, the food now hardened and crusted to the plates. There was nothing in the refrigerator, but a block of cheese and two slices of bread, and so I packed that, cutting hunks of the cheese into cubes so that it would be easier for the twins to eat.

  “I’ll find something better for dinner,” I promised as I slipped the food into Thomas’s backpack and then Shelly’s.

  “You’ve got one minute,” Roman announced as he entered the kitchen, his hair now wet and clinging to his head.

  “The baby… I can’t go,” I reminded him, motioning down the hall, towards my bedroom where I’d left the baby sleeping.

  “If you’re not going, I don’t want to go,” Shelly whined now, shaking her head as Roman grabbed her hand.

  “We’ll have to figure something out for tomorrow. If the Pernickle’s find out…”

  ”Well they should have made better plans,” I replied, cutting Roman off as he led the twins out the back door.

  Although I couldn’t see the bus from the back porch, I could hear it coming, its engine chugging and hissing in protest as the driver downshifted to slow down.

  All the newer buses went to Winslow on the east side, and the older ones came here. Even then, it wasn’t enough to transport all of the students; so high school, middle school, and elementary kids were forced to share, making the ride extremely long if you lived on either end of the county. With no heat, and the transmission sounding like it was about to go any day now, I was grateful to not have to endure the forty-five minute trip to school this morning on the big cheese.

  “Hey!” Roman called, walking backwards through the snow just before turning the corner of the house.

  I smiled as his breath caught in the cold morning air, the sun causing the powder around him to sparkle in the light. He caught my smile, and shook his head, a knowing glance passing between us for what we’d done the night before.

  “What are you going to do today?” He asked, shrugging his shoulders as he let the backpack slide from his shoulder, as if to say: “I can stay with you.”

  “Clean!” I announced, my nose wrinkling at the dirt and grime I knew waited behind me.

  “Have fun!” he laughed, jogging now as the bus driver beeped his horn twice to signal that he was leaving if Roman didn’t hurry.

  I laughed too, shaking my head as I closed and locked the door behind me. It felt good not to go to school for once. I hadn’t missed a day since moving here. The Pernickle’s didn’t care if we were sick, hurt, or anything else. They both worked, and we weren’t trusted in the house alone- until now- and the impromptu trip they’d taken, still rubbed me the wrong way. Roman and I had found nothing last night that could be of any use to us in figuring out where the Pernickle’s had gone. Pretty much all the papers were a month old or more, and they were mostly receipts, junk mail, and bills. I’d have plenty of time today to wonder about it, but for now I started making a list in my head of things I wanted to get done today.

  There was no good place to start in this house. Everything was dirty. Jo Pernickle would probably kill me for scrubbing all the grime away, but I didn’t care. She’d always seen me as being uppity and had slapped me once when I commented on the mess that seemed to grow in her living room every day. I found cleaning supplies out in the shed, and a brand new mop, still wrapped in plastic stuck in the corner. The bucket Martin Pernickle used to carry water to the dog was soon brimming with a steaming hot concoction of bleach and two different kinds of soaps I’d found. I almost welcomed the fumes that filled the house, surprised to see that the linoleum was not the yellowish brown color I thought it was, but baby blue.

  The baby played, and I worked through the morning, washing and folding dirty clothes that had been long forgotten, some of them molded beyond repair. I hadn’t yet thought of a way to get food for any of us, and was almost resigned to the fact that the twins might have to drink a little of the baby’s formula to fill their bellies for the night. The chicken eggs were off limits to us. Jo and Martin Pernickle only kept enough to feed themselves, and the rest were usually sold at the farmer’s market each Saturday in town. I resented the fact that we were the ones left hungry, when all the work came from us.

  The farm was pretty much useless these days. From what Roman had told me, Martin Pernickle had inherited it when his father died just before I’d come to live with them. Before moving here, they’d all lived in a two bedroom apartment in town, the conditions worse than what they were here. The Pernickle’s were just as money hungry then as they were now, and had sold off most of the animals, only keeping the dogs, two cows, and the chickens.

  The cows had stopped producing milk a few years ago, and couldn’t be sold. I heard Martin Pernickle threaten just about every day that he was going to shoot one of them, but he never did. They stood neglected, out in the overgrown field from year to year, surviving only on the tufts of grass that stuck through the snow in the winter months. It sickened me to see their ribs showing through their heavy hides; so I avoided going out in the yard as much as possible. The only reason the chickens were still around is because Roman made sure to keep the coop mended, feeding them daily. The twins and I collected and sorted the eggs, packaging them up for the market every afternoon. The dogs, we ignored. They were a vicious bunch, growling and barking if they caught our scent in the wind. Martin Pernickle was the only one I’d ever seen go in the pen, and I laughed at his instructions now for me to feed them. He was insane. They could starve for all I cared.

  The squeal of brakes alerted me to the fact that a car was slowing in front of the house, so I discarded the laundry basket I’d been about to fill with folded clothes and slipped on my still damp tennis shoes I’d left by the front door the night before. A quick look at the clock, and I was shocked to see that it was almost time for the bus to arrive. The mailman waved as he passed, shoving a stack of mail into our leaning mailbox without even coming to a complete stop. I waved back as I made my way down the porch steps, and across the yard, the cold snow stinging my bare ankles as my feet sank into the soft powder. We weren’t suppose to check the mail…ever…but the Pernickle’s hadn’t left instructions on what to do while they were gone, so
I opened the box, looking down the road on either side before pulling out the stack.

  I’d never gotten mail here, and after the first year I’d stopped asking if anything came for me. Once I moved, my old friends had all but forgotten that I existed, and any extended family that I did have probably didn’t even know where I was, so I was surprised to see my name printed in bold block lettering right in the middle of the top envelope.

  “Alana Cassidy, care of Martin & Jo Pernickle… State of Maine Family court…” I read out loud, holding it up to the sun to see if I could decipher what was inside.

  It wasn’t for me, it was for the Pernickles, but they hadn’t mentioned going to court. The last time that I’d even been inside a court room with them was the day the state had made them my legal guardians until I reached the age of eighteen. I’d cried harder than I’d ever cried that day, and I regretted now, not saying anything when the judge asked if there was anything that I wanted to say. I should have told him that they’d beaten me with a braided switch when I couldn’t stop crying my first night here. I should have told them about the living conditions. I should have said something, but I’d didn’t. Anything having to do with my well being I was supposed to be included in, and it angered me now that they had apparently went to court without me when it clearly had something to do with me.

  A rumble in the distance drew my attention away from the letter, long enough for me to catch a glimpse of the top of the school bus turning the curve that led to the Pernickle’s farm. The stack, I tucked under my arm as the bus slowed to a stop. The envelope, I folded and stuck in my back pocket, not sure yet what I planned to do with it. It could be a clue as to where the Pernickle’s went to so suddenly, but it wasn’t mine, and I couldn’t imagine what they would do if they found out I’d gone through their mail.

  “Lana!” Shelly squealed, her arms thrown wide open as she ran across the road and into my arms.

  I kissed her forehead, setting her down to give the same treatment to Thomas as he joined us, his hand over his belly. I knew they both had to be hungry, and I looked to Roman as he joined us, his backpack sliding from his shoulder.

  “Do you know how to cook a chicken?” He asked as I took the bag from him, my eyes widening as he broke into a long stride across the yard.

  “You can’t!” I called, already jogging after him as he pulled the snow covered axe from the rotting stump in the front yard.

  “You’re hungry right? They’re hungry too right?” He fired the questions one after the other, as if what he was about to do was logical.

  I’d worried over stealing one or two eggs to split between the four of us for the night, and he was about to kill a whole chicken!

  “Go inside!” I demanded, waving Shelly and Thomas away from the scattering birds as they squawked and flapped, probably sensing what was about to happen.

  “I’m not condoning this…” I whispered as Roman crouched low, his attention now on catching whichever chicken ran his way first.

  “I didn’t ask you too…”

  “But…”

  “But you can cook a chicken right?” he asked, lunging forward into a roll as he caught one of the hens by the neck.

  I wanted to laugh as his face hit the snow first, the powder covering the rest of him in a thick white layer, but the chicken was thrashing about so wildly now I was afraid that he’d actually get hurt in the process. I knew he wasn’t going to listen to me if I told him to let it go, so I turned and walked towards the house, sure that the twins were watching every second of what was about to be a brutal slaughter. I could cook a chicken, but there was no way I was plucking or skinning it.