WORKSHOP DRAFT
Quinnly Raducha
Professor J. Miller
WRT 212
“What about me?”
“Bye” I say to my dad hoping out of the old toyota, My dad ignores me and speeds off.
“Alrighty” I say to myself and walk into school, Second week of junior year and have 1 friend, But I don’t mind it, some people aren’t even lucky enough to have one. Sometimes I feel If invisibility was real I would be the one to prove it because of how unnoticed I feel in school.But in the world I live in invisibility was my safety. I walk through the halls nobody smiles, or nods their head to say hello. Nobody noticed when I came in with a black eye last week. Nobody, except Wes, he noticed and he knows how I got it.
My first class is with Wes today and it’s a great feeling when he notices me walking into class and proves me wrong about actually being invisible.
“Hey” he says, as I plop my bag down and sit.
“Hey, what are you up to?” I squint my eyes and look at what he’s working on.
“ I. Hate. Stats” He says banging his head on the desk dramatically., I giggle at him as he lifts his head up and smiles at me.
Class starts and we don’t speak till the end of it to hopefully debrief what we just learned. But before I am able to grab my bag and follow Wes out of the room, Mr, Evans pulls me aside.
“Claire, can you hang back a second?” confusion forms on my face, I didn’t even know he knew my name.
“Yeah, yeah sure” I nod my head at him, still confused about what he is going to talk to me about.
The classroom clears out, and Wes tells me he will wait in the hall for me. I walk up to Mr. Evan’s desk and he pulls out a piece of paper. I know that piece of paper. It’s my poem I wrote for our last assignment. He holds up the paper.
“This poem you wrote, was any of it true?” My breath catches in my throat and I suddenly can’t breathe, the color drains from my face. Mr. Evan’s stares at me waiting for an answer I’m not willing to give him, to give anyone.
“Um” Is all I can get out. He nods his head and puts the paper back on the desk. I get out of that room as fast as I can breathing heavily as I catch up with Jules. She looks at me with curiosity.
“What happened?” He asks, concern covers his face, rightfully so I feel like a mess so I’m sure I’m looking like one, with tears building in my eyes.
“He knows.” Is all I can get out at the moment as I stare at Wes wide eyed. I turn around and walk away, not registering the fact Wes is calling my name at the end of the hall.
I ended up walking home because for the 100th time this month my dad forgot to pick me up. So, I made the 3 mile trek home with my backpack and my thoughts.
“I’m home!” I yell, kicking off my shoes and setting my backpack down. But when I look up I see my father with an expression I know all too well. I did something that bothered him, and that was never a good sign.
“Where were you?” he states with that stern voice. A tremor of panic rolls down my spine.
“ I..I had to walk home, because nobody picked me up.” I turn to walk away, he follows.
“You get home promptly at 5, not a minute later.” He points a finger at me as we stop in the kitchen. I grab a glass for water and close the cupboard a little to loudly
“I would have if I had a ride,but you’re too stupid to remember” I snapped. I look up from filling my cup and stare wide eyed at the window in front of the sink realizing what I just said.
“What did you just say to me?” He grabs my arm tightly and pulls me to the living room, which is basically the kitchen considering how small our house is.
“I.. I..I’m sorry I didn’t mean it” I brace myself for what is about to happen and I clutch the glass in my hand, as water spills from my cup.
“You have always been rude, and I am sick of it” He says through his teeth.
“Let me go, you’re hurting me!” I scream “I’ll tell mom what you’re doing, and what you have been, i’m sick of it” the last thing I see is a hand near my face and I throw the glass of water in my hand as my vision fades to black.
I sink into my warm bed seeking the comfort I never get outside of it. I’m just so tired. I’m tired of it all. But as I wake my head pounds as if I’ve been hit by a truck. With my hand against my head I look around the room that’s become the only place of safety and security in a house that feels haunted. I wonder how I got here. The only thing I remember is my head hitting the living room floor and my father standing above me. I walk to the bathroom and bravely look in the mirror to see someone that isn’t me looking back. She isn’t Claire, Claire is supposed to be strong and have it all together. The Claire I’m looking at is one I know all too well. The Claire that is scared, The Claire is a crier and not a shouter. I don’t know how much longer I can stay in this house.
I head down the stairs, which lead to the loud everyday life of my father.
“You have to stop this!” My mother shouts, as I lean on the banister to hear better.
“You do not tell me what to do!” My father shouts back. I hear the beer bottle shatter on the kitchen floor, making me flinch. I hear my 6-year-old brother Sean come down the stairs. I turn my head around as he rubs the sleep from his eyes to be awoken by our parents. His Spiderman pjs make me smile to myself, reminding me of the innocence of a 5-year-old boy. I grab his hand and we walk down the stairs hand in hand. He doesn’t know it but he’s why I’ve stayed in this house for so long. I didn’t have anyone to protect me. So I would rather die than leave him in this house unprotected. But I just don’t know how much more I can take.
“Good Morning!” My mother says turning to see me and Sean in the doorway of the kitchen. She plasters on that fake “everything is okay” smile that I’ve seen many times.
“Morning” I say tight lipped. I look between my mother and father hoping they can just read my mind and pretend everything is okay for Sean.
“Sean has Dad and Donuts today for kindergarten” I remind my parents. Sean lights up at my side with hope that our father will actually go. He won’t though. He never has.
“Yeah, I don’t think I will be able to go anymore Seany boy” My father says, grabbing the pack of cigarettes he keeps in the same spot on the counter near the sink. He pops one into his mouth.
“But you promised you would go,” Sean says, chin wobbling. My heart cracks clean in my chest.
“Yeah well not anymore” My father lights the cigarette and heads outside as the screen door slams back. I look directly at my mother. Her head down knowing she should have said something. But she never does. She chooses him every time. I squat down to Sean’s height.
“Hey go head back upstairs and get ready for school, I will help tie your shoes when you come down” He nods in response and heads upstairs.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked my mother. She turns to the sink and puts her hands on either side of it.
“Because me saying something, is not gonna change his mind.” I fume inside.
“That doesn’t matter, you should have stood up for Sean, even if it wasn’t gonna work, he would feel like he has his mom in his corner. But he doesn’t, and I never did ethier.” I turn on my heel and walk back up the stairs. There’s nothing she could say that would stop the frustration going on in my head. As I hit the top of the staircase I remember. She didn’t even notice my black eye. She didn’t care. She knows how I got it too.
I walked to school this morning, I couldn’t be in the car with my dad. As I walk, the cold air nipping at my cheeks reddening them. I can’t help but look inside the houses, actually not houses, homes. I look inside and try to imagine what it would be like to go home to a house where the front porch light is always on, where you look at the house and find it warm and inviting, where it is quiet. A warm glow shines through the houses as the morning sun peaks over the clouds. I turn towards the sun wanting all the warmth I can get. I catch a glimpse of a dad and what looks like a toddler going to daycare hand in hand walking down the steps of their house. I can’t help but feel jealous of the little girl. I wonder what I did to deserve this. How could you hurt a kid? I continue to walk and I play a little game in my head. Well, it’s not really a game, But I compare what my life is now to what I want it to be when I’m older. I think about the white picket fence house I want. The husband that comes home and gives me a forehead kiss, the husband that goes to the daddy daughter dances and doesn’t cancel the night of. It might be a cruel game to play in my head. But It gives me hope, and that is all I need right now. I remind myself of what my grandmother said that one night when we were sitting at the dining room table eating the one thing she was good at cooking: Lasagna. She tells me that “ hope is the only thing stronger than fear.” As I took a big piece of lasagna into my mouth. I tend to remind myself that when I’m scared.
Walking into school will never fail to make my anxiety worsen. It might be the loudness or the amount of people but whatever it is never fails to make me aware of everything going. I try to hide the black eye from last night by keeping my head low – Which i usually do anyway – and keeping my hood up. I just don’t feel like answering questions today about it. I’m tired of them. I’m tired of lying. I’m just tired.
P me and put his back to the lockers next to mine as I grabbed a book out.
“Hey Claire-bear” I jumped not knowing someone was next to me. I turn to see Wes with his back against the locker next to mine with a smile that covers his whole face. Sometimes I look at him and notice how perfect he actually is. With brown curly hair and dark eyes.
That smile doesn’t last long when I close the locker to my door and he takes a look at my face. His shoulders fall and concern covers his face.
“When?” Is all he says
“Last night” I responded quietly, not wanting to draw attention to us in the hallway.
“Why?” I respond with a shrug.
“Claire, you need to get out of that house.” His voice was laced with concern. He’s said this to me more times than I can count.
“I can’t, What will happen to Sean? You know what happens to kids in foster care. They get separated and I can’t risk it. I don’t wanna risk it.” I release a breath. Wes’ face turns to face sympathy. An expression I am all too used to from him. We walk into Mr. Evan’s class and take our seats, pulling my hood down. I look up to see Mr. Evans making eye contact with me. He knows, and I am afraid of what he will do.
The class goes by quicker than usual, maybe because I was too busy thinking of excuses to tell Mr Evans when he asks me to stay after class, Because I know he will. Everyone starts packing up and Mr. Evans does exactly what I thought he would.
“Claire hang back a second.” I nod in response. I grab my bag and swallow the lump in my throat as I approach Mr. Evans desk. Kids file out of the classroom, Wes gives me a thumbs up and I return one as he leaves the room, leaving just me and Mr Evans.
“Claire, how did you get that?” He asks, pointing at my eye.
“I fell down the stairs” I shrug as if it’s no big deal, hoping he will buy it. He shakes his head.
“No you didn’t, I have seen you come in to my class with a black eye 3 times this semester”
“I guess I am just clumsy.” I half laugh.
“Other than the black eyes, I have seen you come in with bruises covering your arms, bumps on your head and bruises on your neck, that’s not normal” He finishes and I fall silent, I have nothing to say.
“I have to report this, I’m sorry” He says pity covering his face. My face falls.
“No, no, no, you can’t, my brother” I can’t even get the words out. Do not cry. Do not cry. Be a yeller not a crier, I remind myself.
“I have to,” Mr Evan’s shakes his head. I know there is nothing I can say or do to change his mind. So I ran. I run out of the classroom, out of the school not caring if people are wondering why there are tears covering my face along with a black eye. I just need to get out. I run out into the hallway. As I turn the corner I run right into someone and fall right on my butt.
“Hey,hey,hey, are you ok?” Wes asks reach out to grab me
“Yeah” I sniffled, holding back a sob. Wes’ hands are on my shoulders.
“Mr. Evan’s knows and said he is gonna report it” i barely get the words out and my head falls into Wes’ chest. My tears are probably soaking his shirt but I simply don’t care.
“Hey, it’s ok, I’ll come home with you just in case?” He asks, but he knows the answer. I lift my head up and shake my head.
“ No you can’t, it will make everything worse, I just need to go home” I say and Wes nods.
With nobody to pick me up and me not wanting Wes to cut school early I ran home. I need to be there, before everything turns to shit.
I march up the front steps but quickly come to a halt when my hand touches the handle on the front door. I hear my parents yelling. He already made the call. It’s too late. I’m too late. I whip open the front door and throw my bag down near the door. I follow the yelling into the kitchen and stop. My parents look away from each other and at me. My father points at me.
“You!” He yells stomping towards me. I move back, hitting a wall. “You told someone, didn’t you?” he sneers.
“I didn’t, I swear!” I say trying to convince him, even though I know it won’t. He grabs my wrist tightly, causing me to wince from pain.
“Then why did I get a call from CPS?” He roars in my face.
“I..I Don’t know!” Slap. My head flies sideways. I put a hand against my cheek as I turned to look at my mother. Tears fill her eyes. She does nothing but leaves the room. My father has tortured us, mentally and physically, and she has chosen him every time. I need to leave this house. I can’t stay here anymore. I rip my wrist away from my father, that’s when I hear Sean’s footsteps coming down the stairs. I walk towards him and my father follows.
I lean down to Sean’s height, “Sean I have to go” I spit the words out. His bottom lip starts to wobble knowing what I mean. I take his hands in mine.
“Claire don’t go, What about me?” He shakes his head, tears slipping from his eyes. I stand up, as he grabs my sleeve to stop me“What about me?” I say softly “What about me?”
