Wishing For Someday Soon

by Tiffany King

  www.authortiffanyjking.blogspot.com

  Copyright 2012 by Tiffany King

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  To my amazing family, who support me unconditionally. And to my friends and fellow authors, I am inspired by each and every one of you. Finally, to Hollie Westring, thank you for your help in editing the book.

  Chapter 1

  When I was younger, I always thought of life like chapters in a book. I never knew what each turn of the page would bring, but always hoped for something better and happier. I regarded my younger brother and myself as characters that were meant to persevere, no matter what obstacles were thrown our way. Of course, our life was far from the paranormal worlds that I loved reading about. Not that you could call our life normal—not in the least, but we definitely didn’t have any cool supernatural powers or anything like that. Still, fantasizing about it helped pass the endless miles down highways that look the same no matter where you are at. If I were a paranormal character, I would be an illusionist. I had made it an art form to never let anyone know how I was really feeling. We never knew what kind of mood my mom would be in from one day to the next, so most days I was the emotional catalyst of the family, always trying to appear happy and cheerful, when inside I was screaming. My brother, on the other hand, would be a special character. Kevin is a unique soul, caring and selfless. He definitely doesn’t deserve this life—neither of us do, but at least we have each other, and I would die to protect him.

  We arrived in Four Corners, Montana, in late September, over a full month after the school year had already started, but my little brother and I were used to that by now. The town definitely lived up to its name. Four adjacent corners with lonely looking establishments perched on each one. We observed the Higgins Grocers, which sounded vaguely familiar on the south corner and a small mom and pop restaurant called Sunny-Side Up on the corner directly across from it. Withers, a gas station that had seen better days, sat on the third corner opposite from the restaurant, which left the last corner to the run-down trailer park called Shady Lane that would be our new home.

  As Jim, my “step-dork” as we liked to call him, pulled our beat-up car into the dirt-packed path, my brother Kevin and me exchanged horrified looks. We weren’t freaked out we would be living in a trailer, since it was a humongo step-up from some of the dumps we had lived in over the years. Just the idea of having a roof over our heads was an absolute godsend. It was more the size of the town that made Kevin and I exchange uneasy glances. Even at nine, Kevin understood how our mom thought, and we both knew there was absolutely no way Lucinda would make it in a town this size.

  Like always though, I kept my face impassive, not letting my disappointment show. It had taken most of the morning for Lucinda to sign all the housing papers the woman at the welfare office in Bozeman handed over. During that time, I’d allowed myself to daydream about the stability our lives would have, for at least a few months anyway, and after two weeks in a shelter, I was ready for a little space.

  Living in a shelter was always tough on Kevin and me. The accommodations were always tight with no privacy to speak of with food that you ate just for the sake of eating. If I never drank another glass of powdered milk again, I would die a happy person.

  This last shelter had been more bearable than most of the others we had lived in over the years. Instead of separating men and women into different spaces crammed with cots, they had family rooms that were roughly sixteen feet by sixteen feet where entire families could stay. The rooms had two double beds, which meant Kevin and I were forced to share. At seventeen, I should have bucked at the idea of sharing a room, let alone a bed with my brother, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way, he was all I had, and I’ve spent my entire life trying to protect him.

  Already knowing that we would most likely only be living in our new home for a short while was always a hard pill to swallow, no matter how many times we’d been through this. It had taken us two weeks in the car to get to Montana from California since we had to make several pit stops to earn money for gas. Kevin and I were both equally sick of the car and didn’t relish another move when Lucinda decided yet again that the grass was greener somewhere else.

  Step-dork, Jim slowly drove past a string of mobile homes that varied in size and appearance. We’d stayed in our share of projects, dumpy motels and run-down apartments, but never a trailer park. I was surprised that some of them were actually relatively nice with extra built-on storm rooms and utility rooms. Small bushes and fake flowers bordered the majority of the homes, making it clear that the current owners took pride in the little plot of land they inhabited. I couldn’t help but smile a little at the dozens of god-awful looking garden gnomes peeking out behind several of the bushes surrounding one of the trailers.

  It all seemed so very normal, which only further proved our new home was doomed from the get-go. We definitely didn’t exist in the realm of normal.

  Jim pulled into a narrow drive and stopped in front of what was to be our new home. The overgrowth of weeds and unkempt bushes surrounding the trailer gave the indication that it had been sitting empty for quite a while. The exterior of the trailer was covered in faded metal paneling, but looked to be in decent enough shape. There were no broken windows as far as I could tell and as long as there were no holes in the floor or roof, it might actually be tolerable. Lucinda and Jim piled out of the vehicle, leaving Kevin and me behind in their typical parental-lacking fashion.

  Kevin used his insignificant body weight to try to push the heavy car door open. The door cracked open slowly, sticking at half-mast on its rusty hinges. I twisted around on my seat and used my feet to push it open the rest of the way before sliding out after him. It would have made more sense for me to sit by the only door that opened in the back seat, but the rusted-out hole that took up the majority of the floorboard on my side of the car freaked Kevin out. He was scared he was going to fall through the floor, so I had taken the less desirable position for the remainder of the trip. Being older, I didn’t want to admit to him that the hole sort of freaked me out too, especially at night when we were sleeping in the car. My mind would run wild, conjuring up images of every insect imaginable creeping up through the hole in the pitch-black night and crawling all over us. During the day, I would drape my bare feet out the open window, daydreaming about being somewhere else, anywhere else. This method worked through California and most of Nevada, but once we got into the mountain ranges, the temperature dropped drastically, making it impossible to keep the window open. Kevin and I stayed huddled together under the thin blanket we shared at night, shivering in our thin California apparel that didn’t serve us well in the chillier temperatures we were driving through. Where the hole in the floor really sucked though was when the sleet and snow on the road splashed up from underneath the car. Kevin had a meltdown watching the snow spewing up through the hole, scared it wouldn’t stop and would bury us alive in the backseat. My hands froze as I scooped it back up and made a game of throwing it back down in the hole. Kevin perked up at the makeshift game and admitted he even kind of missed it once we made our way down the mountain.

  “So, should we go check out our new home?” I asked, using all my weight to close the stubborn car door behind me.

  “I guess,” he said grumpily.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, using my hip to nu
dge him teasingly.

  “Come on, look at this place, Katelyn. You know there’s no way she’s going to make it here,” he muttered, kicking at a small pebble on the ground, making the dust swirl up and cover the toes of his worn-out sneakers.

  “Hey, you never know. What do we always say?”

  “That we’re glass-half-full kind of people. It’s not like I really know what that means,” he said, still sulking.

  “Yes you do. It means we believe in someday soon, right? Someday soon this crazy life will be behind us and we will hardly even remember any of this bad-crazy-messed-up stuff, okay?” I asked, pulling him in for a one-armed hug.

  “Okay,” he agreed, sliding one of his narrow arms around my waist as we headed up the metal stairs to our new home.

  I pulled the door open and gasped when it opened easily making me take a steadying step backwards. I barely kept my balance, but poor Kevin who was standing directly behind me and weighs forty-five pounds soaking wet was knocked backwards, landing on his butt at the bottom of the stairs.

  I couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled up my throat at his shocked expression. It had happened so fast, one minute he was standing behind me, and the next he was on his backside.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, trying to control my giggles as he dusted off his backside.

  “Yeah, but sheesh, keep your butt to yourself next time!” He said, racing up the three steps in front of me.

  I followed behind him and together we stopped in the small living room, taking in our surroundings. I was pleasantly surprised that for something so small on the outside, it was somewhat spacious inside, but I guess anything would seem spacious after two weeks in a cramped shelter and another two camping out in a car.

  The kitchen was at one end of the trailer and looked clean enough upon my inspection. The windows that lined the small kitchen space were covered with faded yellow curtains that could be closed at night for privacy. Underneath them stood a small oak table with two chairs which suited Kevin and my needs fine since Lucinda and Jim rarely ate with us.

  The living room held a surprise that made Kevin squeal when he saw it. The television sitting on the rickety old stand was small in size and nothing like the HD TVs everyone had now, but going without television for months made us both appreciate having one, despite its lackluster appearance. The shelter we vacated that morning had a large flat screen in the common room that someone had donated, but since most of the other residents were women, talk shows and soap operas were pretty much on 24/7. Kevin had been missing his favorite cartoons for a while, but was careful not to mention it around Lucinda or Jim since they adamantly felt only babies watched cartoons.

  Kevin flipped on the television quietly and settled down on the worn carpet in front of it. I smiled at him and continued to peruse the rest of the trailer. A small narrow hallway led out of the living room on the opposite side of the kitchen. Three doorways lined the hall and a fourth one stood at the end. Opening up the first door and glancing inside, I was pleased to see a small bedroom complete with a twin bed and a tall narrow dresser. Moving on to the next doorway, I discovered another small bedroom that mirrored the first one. Temporary or not, I couldn’t help but feel giddy about having my own space in I don’t know how long.

  I continued my exploration through the rest of the trailer, finding a microscopic bathroom that at least had all the necessities, including a bathtub. I sighed with pleasure at the sudden luxuries we had.

  Turning back around, I headed down the hallway, avoiding the room at the far end where Lucinda and Jim had disappeared to. By the grunting and moaning I had heard while I was inspecting the bathroom, I knew Mom and Jim would be busy for a while. Walking back into the first room I’d inspected, I decided to claim it as my own to further distance myself from the room on the end. I took time to inspect the dresser, opening each drawer in hopes that the last occupants had left something behind. I was mildly disappointed when I found them all empty with no hidden treasures. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little pleased as I sank onto the narrow bed, taking in my surroundings.

  “All of this space is mine,” I said quietly to myself. “I can close the door….” My private party was interrupted when I saw that my room had no door. Dismayed, I stood up to inspect it and grinned in delight when I discovered it was a pocket door. I pulled the small brass tab with my fingers and watched as the door slid out of the panel in the wall. “Sweet,” I mumbled to myself, heading back toward the living room.

  “Kevin, I’m going to go unload the car. Do you wanna help?” I asked my brother who was now lying across the sofa.

  “Not really,” he said meekly.

  “You okay?” I asked, reaching up to brush my hand across his forehead.

  “Yeah, just a little dizzy.”

  “It’s probably because you’re hungry. It’s been hours since we ate breakfast at the shelter. Maybe if Mom comes out soon she’ll give me the food stamp card she got this morning from that welfare lady. I’ll go get some sandwich stuff at the grocery store,” I said to him before I headed out to the car.

  I opened up the trunk of the car with the keys, swearing under my breath at Lucinda. Skipping meals was a normal part of our life, but she swore she would try harder once the doctor at the clinic told her Kevin was failing to thrive. In layman’s terms, it meant he wasn’t gaining weight. The doctor had given her guidelines on the foods Kevin should be eating to help alleviate the problem, and Mom sat there, nodding her head in agreement, putting up a good front for the doctor, but as usual, her promises meant nothing. Why can’t she just try to make a freak’n effort for once, I thought bitterly as I reached into the trunk and grabbed the duffle bag stacked on top. I grunted from its weight as I adjusted the strap around my narrow shoulder. Gripping the two handles together with my left hand, I tried to take some of the strain off my shoulder as I staggered toward the trailer. The bag was Lucinda’s and was twice the size of all the other bags, making it a brute to carry.

  “Hey, that looks heavy,” a snarky voice said behind me.

  Turning around, I saw that I was being studied intently by a girl that looked roughly to be around my age, but taller with flat brown hair that looked like it hadn’t seen shampoo in days. She had high cheek bones that I would kill for, but her complexion was splotchy and greasy. Her dingy, baggy overalls, which I hadn’t seen anyone wear in years, made her legs appear endless all the way down to her old dirty cowboy boots. I swept my eyes over her, seeing myself reflected back if not for the illusion I cloaked myself in.

  She was poor like us and didn’t care who knew it.

  I was the exact opposite of her.

  I had spent years perfecting the art of disguise. No one in the last ten or so schools I had attended over the past couple of years ever suspected by my appearance that most nights I slept in the car with my family, and that the majority of those nights we went to bed without dinner. I always washed carefully in the gas station restrooms each morning, taking care to make sure my hair was combed nicely and pulled back in a neat ponytail. I would tell myself that how we lived was no one’s business and didn’t matter, but I still kept my secret.

  “Nah, it’s not too bad,” I said, adjusting the strap again, hoping she wouldn’t volunteer to help.

  “So, what grade are you in?” She asked in the same snotty tone as before.

  “Um, I’m a senior. How about you?”

  “Me too. I was supposed to graduate, but they held me back last year. Said they didn’t think I was ready for that yet. I don’t care much though, I wasn’t looking forward to graduating yet anyways. My brother’s been held back two years, so he’ll be in our class too.”

  I cringed at the thought. He’d been held back two years? Each year it was a struggle for me to start midyear at a new school and try to keep up, but I somehow always managed to squeak by with passing grades by the end.

  “Well, that’s if we all get in the same class,” I said, silently praying against the ide
a.

  “Sure we will. There’s only sixteen seniors in the whole school. Well, seventeen now with you.”

  “SEVENTEEN?” I asked shocked.

  She laughed mockingly at my surprise. “Well, there’s only fifteen ninth graders, so we got them beat. The second-grade class is the most this year though, they got nineteen.”

  “You mean the high school isn’t separate?” I asked, feeling a little nauseous. The woman at the welfare office did mention that I would be going to a small school, but I hadn’t given her words much thought, assuming that it would just be a smaller high school than I was used to. I never once considered this.

  “Heck no, they group us all together like a herd of cattle. I’ve been going to Munford with the same group of people my whole life,” she said with an edge in her voice that made it clear she held animosity against someone.

  “Ugh, so it goes all the way down to kindergarten?” I asked, shuddering at the idea. The last school I attended in California was a regular high school, so being juniors, we had been part of the bigger fish group in the pond with the guppy freshmen and sophomores beneath us. I had secretly been looking forward to being at the top of the food chain this year, but it was a little much to think there would be tiny baby guppies swimming amongst us.

  “Yep, and we ain't had a new student start since Shirley McJones moved here with her family six years ago. Course, she had no problem fitting in since her father made millions in oil,” she said with the same bite in her voice.

  “There’s no other school in this area?” I asked, searching for a lifeline.

  “Nope, the closest schools are forty-five minutes away in Bozeman. With all the money some of the folks around here have, they could have bused us there, but noooo, they like the small feel of Munford and treat it more like a private school than a regular school. Of course, they still allow us peasants to attend,” she said snidely.