by G. Bailey
As much as I try to forget my living situation, I can’t, because every day is a reminder. I’ve lived with Fred and Vivian since I was fifteen. It’s been a nightmare from day one. Sure, they act all lovely and great when social services are around, but, in reality, they use me to clean the house. I just try to stay out of their way. I have six more months till I’m eighteen then I can leave. I’m not sure where, but honestly, anywhere would be better. I have no living family and no money, so I don’t have many options other than to find a job quickly and a room to rent. I walk into school thirty minutes later, a little hot from the warm weather we have been having. I glance around at the grammar school which I have to attend. It’s this or college, supposedly the grammar school is good for my grades. But, I have always felt it’s more like the better of two evils.
The day progresses as I would usually expect it to, filled with art and history classes all day. I took a double-A level in art and one in history, which is surprisingly not that boring. Later that day, as I sit at lunch alone like every day, I think of my best friend Tilly. She moved to France two months ago and was the only reason I could deal with this crazy-ass school. It’s full of posh idiots whose parents paid to get them in, not like me and Tilly, who actually got straight A's. Tilly really didn’t need to study hard like I did, but she did, anyway, and that’s why I like her.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by the intercom, “Would Elizabeth Turner come to the main office?”
When it clicks off, I look up to see everyone staring at me. I shrug as I try not to blush. I hate being the centre of attention. I walk to the office on the other side of the building after getting my things. I keep thinking of what the hell I’ve done or if Fred has called to say there is another family emergency at home. Which is usually code for ‘I have friends coming to get drunk, and I need the house clean again and didn’t notice you had already cleaned’. I roll my eyes and soon I’m at the office, where I’m told to go straight in by the snooty receptionist.
I walk in the room to see my head teacher behind the desk and the back of a tall man with dark-brown hair tied in a loose knot at the back of his head.
“Come and sit, Elizabeth, there has been some news, and this man has come to talk to you,” says my head teacher, but I ignore him and watch as the dark-haired man turns to me.
“It's nice to meet you. You wouldn't believe how long I have looked for you, and it’s a little bit of shock to finally meet my sister,” the stranger says to me in a deep voice. Wait sister?
I turn and look at my head teacher, hoping he will help, but he ignores me and looks out the window. I guess this is as awkward for him as it is for me. I look back at the man, taking in his head of dark-brown hair and massive, muscular build to his expensive looking pressed suit. I finally look in his eyes and see the same bright-green eyes I have, looking back at me. I gasp and start to back away into a seat on the couch. I look down at the floor as I try to collect my thoughts. My mother never told me anything about my father, just that I wouldn't want to meet him and left it at that. She passed away a few years ago, four days after my fifteenth birthday. I guessed she would have told me about him when I was older, but who knows? She never got the chance.
“Look, I know this is strange, but I am your half-brother, and I have custody of you until you turn eighteen. I’ve come to take you back home with me,” he says like it’s an everyday fact. I’m getting the impression not a lot bothers him, and I’ve only just met him.
I half listen as I’m still trying to take all of this in. A brother, if that isn’t enough to deal with. I’ve then got him adding on the fact that I’m moving. I should panic and run. Who knows what he wants or if he is even my brother, but, then again, it can’t be worse than where I live now.
“Elizabeth, look at me,” my brother says as he picks up on my internal war.
I look up into those familiar, green eyes that show me some kindness. I try to think of more reasons to run, but it seems pointless. Well, I think I’m going to have to trust him.
“It's Izzy, my friends call me Izzy. What’s your name?” I ask him.
I’m still looking at his face, trying to see the truth behind his words. I get the feeling he is a closed book as far as emotions go, but I can see some kindness, and that's enough for me to try and relax.
“I’m Harley King, nice to meet you Izzy.” He smiles, and it takes me a minute to realise he kind of looks like I do in pictures when I smile.
I stand up quickly, putting some distance between us. “What did you mean when you said you would take me back with you and custody?” I try to ask calmly and kind of fail when my voice is high-pitched.
“That you’re coming to live with me as you have no other blood relatives as far as I know, so I got custody of you. I have custody of my three younger brothers too. Well, your brothers too,” he scratches his head with a huff. I watch as he sits down on the sofa and straightens his suit jacket before saying, “I know this is hard for you to believe, and trust me, this whole situation is difficult. Our father is dead. I took over when he died. I was twenty, and the twins, Sebastian and Elliot, were fifteen. Luke was fourteen. It was difficult, but I made it work. I later found out–from a letter from dad’s will–about you. It had the results of a DNA test done when you were a baby, and an old address and number of yours. Of course, it's taken me two years to find you due to all the moves you, and your mother, had taken. I'm sorry for your loss by the way.”
I nod and sit next to him, taking it all in. I have four brothers. I guess he is right about us moving when I think about it. My mother just liked to see new places, and I was taken along for the ride. Yesterday, I had no one, now I have a family, and I am moving away from my crazy, foster family. This shit seems unbelievable.
“Alright, I’m going to be honest with you. I’ve done everything I can to leave my crazy, foster parents. So, this could work for me. I mean moving to your place, and then we can see how things go. I guess I would like to meet the rest of you and learn about you. How old are my brothers now?” I ask looking at Harley, who looks around twenty-three. So, they can’t be that old.
“The twins are seventeen like you and Luke is sixteen. I'm so glad you’ll come. I thought I'd have a massive fight on my hands with getting you to come with me,” he says with a grin, which makes me smile too. He stands up, claps his hands together, getting the attention of my head teacher, and starts talking to him about sending my paper work over and the school switch. I notice he makes a very a large payment to the school to help hurry up my paper work. I look at him now in his perfect suit and frown. I glance down at my baggy hoodie and shabby jeans then finally to my worn trainers that I have had for at least two years. I'm not going to fit into their world.
As we head to my house in his massive, black SUV–that's shinier than most of the cars in my small town–I sit wondering what Harley will think of my foster parents or their home.
30
-
Izzy
“Izzy, we need to go soon, but I understand if you want to wait until tomorrow to pack and say your goodbyes,” Harley says while pulling the car into the parking space next to the house. I sit back and glance around at the house. The lawn hasn't been done since the last social services inspection six months ago, and it’s clear nothing has been done. It has long grass that’s mostly weeds, covering the small, front lawn and cracked pavement leading to the door. The house, itself, hasn’t been worked on for years, and it’s clear from the outside. My lazy and possibly crazy, foster parents wouldn't bother leaving the house to do any work on it. Well, they didn’t care enough to make me mow it or risk neighbours seeing me working my ass off for them. It’s a nice neighbourhood with decent people living here, and they need to keep up some kind of appearance.
“No. I only have a bag or so of things. So, it will only take me half an hour to pack. Do you want to wait?” I ask, hoping he will stay. I secretly don't want to be alone with them when they find out I'm leaving. They hav
e never hurt me, but throwing things near me and screaming at me is normal for them. I frown, thinking of times when it’s worse if they have been drinking, which I’m guessing they have by now. It is midday.
“Yes. I need to tell them about you leaving with me,” he tells me and then frowns. “Well, your foster parents should have received a phone call or letter explaining anyway,” he hesitates before continuing as he stares at the house. “Why have you only got one bag? What about your clothes and, well, girl stuff?” he asks while pulling out the car keys.
I nearly sigh in relief that he's not leaving me here, and I say quietly, “I don't have many clothes or other things,”
I try to get out of the car, not wanting to discuss this anymore, but a large hand on my upper arm gently stops me. He huffs, gaining my attention back to him as he moves his hand.
“Seb is going to love spoiling you with my credit card,” he laughs loudly and gets out of the car, too.
I frown at his statement, but my nerves get the best of me and don’t let me think about it anymore as I stare up at the home I’ve lived in for the last few years. So many memories are bad here, but also, in some ways, this place made me stronger. I straighten up and walk into the house with Harley following me. We walk into the living room, where my foster dad is passed out face-down on the sofa with a bottle of vodka in his hand. I’m guessing Vivian is at one of her friends,’ as she is nowhere to be seen.
“I wouldn't wake him up if I was you. I’ll go and pack,” I say in a whisper and shrug at Harley as he glares at Fred on the sofa. I notice how he looks around the room in disgust before smiling at me, but I can see the pity in his eyes.
As I walk past him, he says to hurry up. I suppress a smile at that and run up to my room. I throw my three pairs of jeans, four tops, and my leggings in a bag. I get all my underwear and my necklace from my mother. It’s the only thing that my foster parents haven't sold of mine. The memory of my mother comes rushing at me as I hold the necklace.
I know I shouldn’t be looking in mum’s jewellery box, but everything is so pretty. I’m only seven, so mum won’t be too mad. I open the worn, wooden box, and inside are pretty, little earrings I’ve seen my mom wear, and, in the middle, is a very pretty, purple necklace I’ve never seen. I pull it out holding it up in the air as it sparkles in the light from the window, making me giggle.
“Elizabeth,” the angry voice of my mother makes me jump and turn to see her standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Her white-blonde hair is up in a messy bun from cleaning, and she is wearing a pretty, red dress. Her face softens slightly after a second before she lets out a long breath and comes over to me. She kneels in front of the stool I’m sitting on and takes the necklace out of my hand gently.
“It’s real pretty, mummy,” I say, frowning at my mummy’s sad face.
“It is, isn’t it? I haven’t looked at this in years. It’s called a sapphire,” she tells me.
“Who gave you it, mummy?” I ask as she stares at the necklace in her hand. The sapphire is about the size of her thumb and shines like my mummy’s blue eyes.
“The man who still holds my heart, baby. I just can’t let this go,” She whispers the end part to herself, then she stands up, putting the necklace back in her box and holds her hand out to me.
“Do you want to go and get ice cream? Mummy could use some chocolate ice cream,” she smiles, making me laugh.
“Yes, mummy,” I squeal jumping up and down.
The memory of her fades, leaving only the sadness that she is gone. I kept it hidden well enough because of that memory. I guess I had always hoped it was my dad who gave it to her, but who knows? It looks expensive, but my mum never dated anyone that I saw growing up, so it could be. I could ask Harley. I put it in my bag and then go into the bathroom to collect my shampoos, soap, razors, and hairbrush. I chuck those into the bag and look at myself in the full-length mirror. My long, almost white-blond hair is nearly at my waist. Even in a plait like it is now. I have those bright-green eyes, like my brother, and a layer of freckles I’m not a fan of. I’m quite pale, as I don’t get out much, but I have a good body. As my best friend would tell me anyway. I’m looking at my eyes wondering about my father, when I hear a thump and a man cry out. I race down the stairs finding Harley holding Fred by his neck up against a wall, and Harley’s face is close to Fred’s.
“Don't speak about my sister like that ever again, or I’ll end you. Do you understand me?” he asks.
Fred mumbles a shaken, “Yes.”
Harley lets him drop to the floor. He looks back to me with a smile and starts brushing down his suit before asking, “You ready?” I nod, and he turns back to Fred with a scary amount of hate on his face.
“We’re going now and don't contact my sister or I’ll find you.”
With that, he gestures for me to walk out, and I do with my head held high. I say goodbye to my old life and head out into the new.
31
-
Izzy
We drive for around seven hours towards the Lake District, away from my old life. Harley tells me that we’ll be living in a small village called Kendean, where they are all from. Harley continues, telling me that I will be joining the twins in their last year at the local grammar school. The school does the same courses that I am doing now, and I can continue them for the few remaining months I have left. We talk about what I study, I tell him about my love of art and history. I also tell Harley that I want to work with my art when I'm older. I’m surprised when he thinks this is a great idea and can't wait to see my work.
“So, what work do you do?” I ask.
“I own the local gym in the village. It’s the only one for miles, so we do good business. Plus, it helps that we all had a very good inheritance.” He glances at me before looking back at the road.
“That’s why you’re all buff then,” I joke, and he grins at me.
“Yes, and so are your brothers. You can come any time to build some muscles if you want,” he smiles.
“No, I don’t do exercise.” I laugh at his shocked face. “I’m serious. I can run if I want to, but I get all red and sweaty. Well, I’m lazy.”
“You’re joking, right? Don’t you eat? Because you’re quite thin and small,” his tone is now serious.
I can understand why, seeing where I came from, but I’m just lucky that I have a good body despite not doing much exercise. My friend Tilly always used to moan about that. “I just have good genes I guess. I have a bad addiction to Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.”
I laugh with Harley when he answers, “It’s good that Luke likes that stuff, and it’s always in the freezer, then.”
“I may like Luke already,” I say.
“Do you drive? We live in the middle of nowhere, and without a car, it will be difficult to get around,” he says, and I sigh thinking back to Tilly’s father who bought me a crash course for my seventeenth birthday from all of them. It was the sweetest thing, even if I could never afford a car and insurance. I passed straight away out of pure luck, I believe, and a few late nights practising in my foster parents’ car.
“Yeah, I have a licence,” I answer.
“That’s great, all the boys have cars, so one of us will be able to drive you anywhere until Seb or I can buy you a new car,” he tells me.
“That’s too much money,” I frown.
Harley laughs at that and we carry on the drive in a comfortable silence. As we pull into the village, we cross over a beautiful, old bridge with a large river running through the town. As we drive further, I notice the small mountains in the background. The town is beautiful even at night-time. It’s now close to midnight, I see as I glance at the clock, and I'm hoping to go straight to bed when we get there. I’m glad we stopped off for some food on the road.
We pass more country roads and eventually pull into a small road with heavy, black gates which are open. I can see a long road behind them with massive trees on both sides, and it’s lit up with large, street la
mps.
Harley mutters something about the gates being open when they weren’t meant to be and drives up the path. Slowly, the biggest house I’ve ever seen comes into view. It's beautiful, grey stone even in dim lighting, but when I see all the cars parked in front and hear the loud music blasting from inside it distracts me from the house. I wonder if this is normal. I briefly think I have no chance of sleeping until morning as I look at the garage built on the side of the house and then the people flittering around outside. I can’t see much in the dark, but it seems to have big windows lining the front of the house.
“For fuck’s sake, I leave them for three days and come back to a massive party,” Harley says as he jumps out of the car and slams the door.
I go to follow, and he gestures for me to stay behind him. I really don’t want to be my brothers right now. Harley looks scary as hell. He slams the massive, wooden doors open and pushes drunken people out of the way as I follow him. I can't see or hear much over the amount of people and noise from some loudspeakers that make my ears feel like they are bleeding. I have never been to many parties because I just didn’t have the clothes or the time to go to them.