6. Miki

Sunday morning: omelets and pancakes. Not a bad deal if you ask me. I spent the day at Rachel’s place again, helping her mother with clay and sculpting a lopsided vase. Seven o’clock came, and I knew the drill. I headed home alone, while Rachel washed the dinner dishes. I spent the evening playing card games with John, and before I knew it, it was too late to go to the field.

Monday morning, I left as early as I could. I didn’t stop to listen to the flowers; just sprinted to the field. My tent was gone. Great. Somebody had torn through the entire camp. My bag of clothes, my binoculars (hidden under a rock), and a ripped sheet were the only things left.

That’s what I get for being a softie.

Anyway, I headed to Waldo’s, and stopped halfway there. Inspection was always Tuesday and Wednesday, so there was no point in buying a new tent to let it sit around for a couple days. I went to Rachel’s house instead.

***

One thing that I hated about the foster children agents was how they always arrived in a new, shiny, clean, pricy car. As if boasting, “Ha! We have perfect lives and high paying jobs and you’re just a foster kid we could care less about!” At least, that’s how ‘my’ agents were. Maybe somebody in this line of work actually cared. Somebody who didn’t want to be your forty-year old ‘buddy’.

Max and Sarah, or whoever they were, pulled into the driveway of Jessa’s house. Time to look well-adjusted. It was the same old ritual. Look around, talk to Jessa, talk to John, talk to me.

It was about noon when they walked in the door. So much for being on time. Even I was never an hour late.

“Hi Miki!” Sandy (or Sarah) greeted, way too cheerfully. “How are you today?”

Unbelievably annoyed. “I’m fine.”

“Well that’s good,” commented Mark (Max?) “Have you done anything special lately?”

“I met a new friend on Saturday, and Jessa’s taking me to the amusement park on Friday.”

“That’s good, but I’m not sure you should call her by her first name. After all, you are family.” Sarah shot me a you-poor-clueless-girl smile, as if trying to help me out. Ha!

“Sarah, let’s go talk to Ms. Montoya in the kitchen.”

“Okay, Mac. We’ll meet you in your room later, Miki!”

They walked into the kitchen and closed the door. I heard them start talking. “How has Miki been doing in her studies…?”

Sarah and Mac. Well, one out of two’s pretty good.

The rest of the day was way too long. Sarah was overly critical (as always) and Mac could have cared less. One too many stupid questions. I could have screamed. Why do you have to judge me so much? I’m a foster kid, yeah. My dad’s an alcoholic, my mom’s who knows where, and I ran away. So what? Are you gonna blame me for that? He didn’t start drinking because of me! You don’t know anything about me! You stupid ‘normal’ kids are all the same!

Of course they ate dinner with us too, stretching out the misery. Wednesday was an observation day. I had to put on another well-adjusted face, but no more questions. Thank goodness.

The next day I breezed through three French lessons (with tests!), a chapter of math, and half a chapter of science. It was easier working than watching them watch me. At six o’clock, Sarah and Mac left, and with them, any trace of nice weather. It started to pour, and even after playing cards with John, I wanted to scream. I doubted that normal people got cabin fever this quickly.

It rained until noon on Thursday. Another chapter of math, the rest of the chapter in science, another French lesson. If it had continued raining, I’d have been fluent in French by the time it let up. I raced outside when it stopped, breathing in the air.

Time for a new tent.

By the end of the day, I was feeling much better. My new tent was up, my new sleeping bag in place, my supplies (stored extra carefully) ready, and my spot in the flowers was secured. Betcha I’ve never slept better.

The weeks came and went. I kinda divided my time between Rachel’s place, the field, and sometimes even Jessa’s. Everything was good except for the headaches I got when the flowers grew silent. I didn’t understand it. Were they not talking, or was I losing my gift? Every time there was silence I was afraid that they wouldn’t start again. And when they did, I could take a deep breath. The gaps started ruling my life. I dove into my tent every time there was a long silence. The worst lasted for two days. It happened on a Saturday when I was in the park with Rachel.

We walked by some trees, and then a patch of daffodils. Rachel smiled at the flowers, then me, and asked, “So what are these flowers saying, Miki?”

Everything fell silent. I grabbed a bench to steady myself. I didn’t want to faint. “Nothing,” I gasped sickly. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Miki…” she started. “Are you…”

After that, I don’t remember anything. I woke up in the guest room at Rachel’s house with a wet cloth on my head. I could hardly breathe. I heard voices, and I thought I heard Rachel’s mother say something about how brave Rachel had been. My head was pounding though. I groaned, turned over, and went to sleep. It was easier than having a headache.

***

“New York!” I screamed to Jessa. “Can you believe it?”

She smiled. “Miki, you’ve got yourself a great friend.” She gestured to the door, where Rachel waited outside.

I looked at Jessa. “So I can go right?” I was so eager that I was practically running in circles.

Jessa laughed quietly. “A couple of things first. She thinks I’m your mother, doesn’t she?”

“Um… yeah. Why?”

“Which means that she doesn’t know that you’re a foster kid. Or that you live alone in a field.”

“That’s right…” I didn’t like what she was getting at.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Miki, you can’t lie forever. You know that very well. She’s going to find out whether you want her to or not.”

I didn’t say anything. Jessa was right and I couldn’t do anything about it. I hated when that happened.

“And another thing. I know you have your own money, but you took some of mine; for supplies I don’t doubt. But, Miki, that’s stealing. You need to talk to me first. Imagine me confused when one hundred dollars goes missing- or however much you took. You are a foster kid. I treat you differently than John. But don’t think you can go and get away with things like that.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“And so it doesn’t happen again, bring your stuff in from the field. Tents are too expensive for you to get a new one every week.”

“So that’s a yes?” I asked, my mood turning upwards.

“Yes.” Jessa smiled. “Love you, kid.”

I grinned wider than ever before in my life. “Thanks Jessa!” And flew out of the house.

I slept over at Rachel’s house (and felt right at home). We left first thing in the morning. I was too excited to be sleepy, Laura had been awake for at least an hour already, and Rachel was the only one groggy. She rubbed her eyes and glared at me as I squealed in delight from the backseat.

“I’d throw you out of the car if it wasn’t so early.”

“Not a morning person,” I laughed.

“Not a three a.m. person,” she growled.

“We’ll get there earlier, though,” Laura interrupted.

I squealed again. “I can’t wait!”

“I’m going to sleep,” Rachel grumbled, reclining her seat. “Be quiet.”

Luckily, Rachel was in a better mood by the time we reached the airport. Not for our sake, but for the security guard’s. I thought that if the metal detector had rung on her, she would have bitten off their heads.

She dozed off again on the plane next to me. I’d claimed a window seat. As we took off, I squeaked joyfully. Everything below us got so small, disappearing. I knew instantly that I loved to fly. There was no better sensation in the entire world.