Post by Jacob Ryder on Aug 25, 2011 14:55:31 GMT -5
What makes you special? Do you play sports better than anyone else? Do you draw well? Can you spit a lougie 15 feet? There is always a skill that defines you. Everyone has something special about them. Well, if that's true, what makes me special?
"Jacob," Mr. Richardson repeated. I was daydreaming again. I was resting my head on my arm on the desk of Mr. Richardson, the friendly, African American social worker. I got up right away. "Yes, I'm sorry, I was just-"
"I know."
"Know what?"
"You were day dreaming."
"What were you doing?"
"What?"
"Huh?"
Mr. R stood up and rubbed his eyes. He was tired and frustrated. "You have to stop that."
"Stop what?" I asked.
"There you go again stalling!" He was desperate. "But that's not why we're here. You have a problem. You've been through so many adoptive parents. You can't stay at just one home? If you stay on this track, you'll have to stay at this place forever. I know it's a..." He thought of a word teens might use. "Bummer. But not everyone needs to adopt."
"Mr. and Mr. Becker do," I corrected.
Mr. Richardson gave me a look. "My point is these people are being very generous. And they're all great people. But you run away from all of them. I thought you wanted a new home."
I snapped. "No! I don't! I don’t want a new home! I want my old home! I want my... father and sister." I fell into my chair and slumped down. "You don't know how this feels." I said quietly.
Mr. R sat down too. "I do," he said. I shot him a look. "Did I ever tell you that I'm an orphan too?" I shook my head. "Well I am. It happened when I was 5. I was a lot like you. I was with my 2 little brothers. I was taken out of school with them and we were told our parents had been in a car accident. After the first week of being with my adoptive parents, I ran away from them and every home I was sent to. It was horrible. I actually thought I was going to break a record." He chuckled. "But no such luck. I only had 12. You're on your 19th." He turned serious. "But this is no game. And this is no way to live."
"My sister?" I asked. I knew the answer.
"I'm sorry, Jacob, but you're 14. I've told you a thousand times," Mr. Richardson said. "She went back to St. Genevieve’s in Florida. We can't control anything."
Mikayla. I love her. My sister is the only living family member I have left. But I haven't seen her in 6 years. The last time I saw her, she had little brown pig tails and a tooth missing. I miss her so much. She never knew that she was adopted until Dad died. She was really angry when she found out. She was sent back to the orphanage in Florida where our dad adopted her.
"I know," was all I could say. I looked at the room. Tan colored, peaceful. Filled with books. A single desk and a shag carpet beneath it. So simple. So familiar. Mr. R put his hand on my shoulder. "It'll be fine." He smiled.
"Thanks," I said. I got up. "I'll be seeing you then."
It'll be fine. Oh, please. It's all going to be alright? I doubt it. The phone started ringing and Mr. R sighed. "Bye," I said, before he picked up the phone.
I closed the door and walked down the cold, wood floor. A light flickered. A phone rang 14 doors back. Amazing what you can notice when your mind is blank. I heard footsteps approximately 20 feet behind me.
"Hey Jacob!" a voice called. Huh? Those footsteps belonged to Rudi. I looked him down. Short, red hair, red nose, and around a thousand red freckles. I forgot what Rudi stood for, but we all called him Rudolph because he's allergic to everything, giving him a bright red nose. "Guess what?" he said, sounding like he won the lottery.
"What?" I asked, trying to sound as excited as him.
"I'm getting adopted!"
“That’s great!” I said. Rudi wasn’t a parent’s first choice. He wasn’t athletic, or anything that they were looking for. “Who is it? I knew you’d find someone!”
Rudi smiled, apparently pleased. “Thanks!” he said. “As a matter of fact it’s actually a boarding school. They were accepting kids who don’t have homes to stay there. Some sort of program, like… A Roof For All or… Whatever! It sounds great!”
Well it wasn’t a home, but Rudi was happy. So that made me happy too.
About an hour later, Rudi and I were walking through the forest behind Matson Home Orphanage. It was dark out, and we were laughing and sharing jokes until there was a rustle in the bushes. We gasped and backed up.
“What is it?” whispered Rudi.
“I don’t know!”
“Well what do we do?”
“I don’t know!”
The bushes moved some more, so I reached into my pocket slowly, grasping for my Swiss Army knife. I yanked it out, and accidentally pulled open the corkscrew. I yelped and fumbled with it some more until the knife was out. Twigs snapped and a deep growl sounded. Rudi yelped and walked backwards, tripping.
“Who’s there?” I asked out. I held up the knife. “I have a… weapon?”
The thing growled again, and I saw its eyes. Before I could react, the beast leaped.
The “beast” was a dog.
“Iris!” I yelled. “Iris! Get off!” I couldn’t help but laugh as she licked my face clean. Rudi was cracking up.
“That wasn’t funny!” I said as she climbed off of my chest. The dog was an American Eagle. A combination of an American Eskimo and a Beagle. She was medium sized and had a colorful bandana tied around her neck. Rudi, River (You’ll meet him soon), and I found him in the forest a couple years ago as a puppy. She followed us back to the home, so we decided we’d keep her as a pet. We kept her outside, as pets weren’t aloud.
“You should have seen your face!” said Rudi, cracking up.
“My face?” I said laughing. “You looked like you saw Michael Jackson back from the dead!”
We ended up laughing a bit more until the window to our room opened. River was leaning outside beckoning us over. We sprinted over to the window.
“Guys!” he said. “Mrs. Psyches is checking all the rooms for curfew! Get in!”
I leaned down on one knee, and cupped my hands. Rudi stepped on them, and I pushed him up, River helping him in. River grabbed Rudi’s feet, and lowered him down. He grabbed my hands and pulled me in. As we scrambled to get in our beds, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Before I knew it, it was tomorrow. Or today. Whatever. It was a boring day, and I did nothing but study, and eat. But at around 3:00 P.M., I was called into the office.
Mr. Richardson stood there with a man in his 40’s. He had blonde hair that reached his shoulders, and was starting to grow a beard. He looked kind of like a hippie.
“Jacob,” said Mr. Richardson. “This is Mr. Cider. Did Rudi tell you about that program? Roofs Cover All… Whatever. I don’t know what it’s called.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Good. Because you, Rudi, and River are all going there together. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
Mr. Cider smiled. “Indeed,” he said. “You sure will.”
His teeth were pretty sharp.
"Jacob," Mr. Richardson repeated. I was daydreaming again. I was resting my head on my arm on the desk of Mr. Richardson, the friendly, African American social worker. I got up right away. "Yes, I'm sorry, I was just-"
"I know."
"Know what?"
"You were day dreaming."
"What were you doing?"
"What?"
"Huh?"
Mr. R stood up and rubbed his eyes. He was tired and frustrated. "You have to stop that."
"Stop what?" I asked.
"There you go again stalling!" He was desperate. "But that's not why we're here. You have a problem. You've been through so many adoptive parents. You can't stay at just one home? If you stay on this track, you'll have to stay at this place forever. I know it's a..." He thought of a word teens might use. "Bummer. But not everyone needs to adopt."
"Mr. and Mr. Becker do," I corrected.
Mr. Richardson gave me a look. "My point is these people are being very generous. And they're all great people. But you run away from all of them. I thought you wanted a new home."
I snapped. "No! I don't! I don’t want a new home! I want my old home! I want my... father and sister." I fell into my chair and slumped down. "You don't know how this feels." I said quietly.
Mr. R sat down too. "I do," he said. I shot him a look. "Did I ever tell you that I'm an orphan too?" I shook my head. "Well I am. It happened when I was 5. I was a lot like you. I was with my 2 little brothers. I was taken out of school with them and we were told our parents had been in a car accident. After the first week of being with my adoptive parents, I ran away from them and every home I was sent to. It was horrible. I actually thought I was going to break a record." He chuckled. "But no such luck. I only had 12. You're on your 19th." He turned serious. "But this is no game. And this is no way to live."
"My sister?" I asked. I knew the answer.
"I'm sorry, Jacob, but you're 14. I've told you a thousand times," Mr. Richardson said. "She went back to St. Genevieve’s in Florida. We can't control anything."
Mikayla. I love her. My sister is the only living family member I have left. But I haven't seen her in 6 years. The last time I saw her, she had little brown pig tails and a tooth missing. I miss her so much. She never knew that she was adopted until Dad died. She was really angry when she found out. She was sent back to the orphanage in Florida where our dad adopted her.
"I know," was all I could say. I looked at the room. Tan colored, peaceful. Filled with books. A single desk and a shag carpet beneath it. So simple. So familiar. Mr. R put his hand on my shoulder. "It'll be fine." He smiled.
"Thanks," I said. I got up. "I'll be seeing you then."
It'll be fine. Oh, please. It's all going to be alright? I doubt it. The phone started ringing and Mr. R sighed. "Bye," I said, before he picked up the phone.
I closed the door and walked down the cold, wood floor. A light flickered. A phone rang 14 doors back. Amazing what you can notice when your mind is blank. I heard footsteps approximately 20 feet behind me.
"Hey Jacob!" a voice called. Huh? Those footsteps belonged to Rudi. I looked him down. Short, red hair, red nose, and around a thousand red freckles. I forgot what Rudi stood for, but we all called him Rudolph because he's allergic to everything, giving him a bright red nose. "Guess what?" he said, sounding like he won the lottery.
"What?" I asked, trying to sound as excited as him.
"I'm getting adopted!"
“That’s great!” I said. Rudi wasn’t a parent’s first choice. He wasn’t athletic, or anything that they were looking for. “Who is it? I knew you’d find someone!”
Rudi smiled, apparently pleased. “Thanks!” he said. “As a matter of fact it’s actually a boarding school. They were accepting kids who don’t have homes to stay there. Some sort of program, like… A Roof For All or… Whatever! It sounds great!”
Well it wasn’t a home, but Rudi was happy. So that made me happy too.
About an hour later, Rudi and I were walking through the forest behind Matson Home Orphanage. It was dark out, and we were laughing and sharing jokes until there was a rustle in the bushes. We gasped and backed up.
“What is it?” whispered Rudi.
“I don’t know!”
“Well what do we do?”
“I don’t know!”
The bushes moved some more, so I reached into my pocket slowly, grasping for my Swiss Army knife. I yanked it out, and accidentally pulled open the corkscrew. I yelped and fumbled with it some more until the knife was out. Twigs snapped and a deep growl sounded. Rudi yelped and walked backwards, tripping.
“Who’s there?” I asked out. I held up the knife. “I have a… weapon?”
The thing growled again, and I saw its eyes. Before I could react, the beast leaped.
The “beast” was a dog.
“Iris!” I yelled. “Iris! Get off!” I couldn’t help but laugh as she licked my face clean. Rudi was cracking up.
“That wasn’t funny!” I said as she climbed off of my chest. The dog was an American Eagle. A combination of an American Eskimo and a Beagle. She was medium sized and had a colorful bandana tied around her neck. Rudi, River (You’ll meet him soon), and I found him in the forest a couple years ago as a puppy. She followed us back to the home, so we decided we’d keep her as a pet. We kept her outside, as pets weren’t aloud.
“You should have seen your face!” said Rudi, cracking up.
“My face?” I said laughing. “You looked like you saw Michael Jackson back from the dead!”
We ended up laughing a bit more until the window to our room opened. River was leaning outside beckoning us over. We sprinted over to the window.
“Guys!” he said. “Mrs. Psyches is checking all the rooms for curfew! Get in!”
I leaned down on one knee, and cupped my hands. Rudi stepped on them, and I pushed him up, River helping him in. River grabbed Rudi’s feet, and lowered him down. He grabbed my hands and pulled me in. As we scrambled to get in our beds, I couldn’t help but laugh.
Before I knew it, it was tomorrow. Or today. Whatever. It was a boring day, and I did nothing but study, and eat. But at around 3:00 P.M., I was called into the office.
Mr. Richardson stood there with a man in his 40’s. He had blonde hair that reached his shoulders, and was starting to grow a beard. He looked kind of like a hippie.
“Jacob,” said Mr. Richardson. “This is Mr. Cider. Did Rudi tell you about that program? Roofs Cover All… Whatever. I don’t know what it’s called.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Good. Because you, Rudi, and River are all going there together. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
Mr. Cider smiled. “Indeed,” he said. “You sure will.”
His teeth were pretty sharp.
