Table of Contents
Reviews
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
About Deanna Frances
Reviews
“Definitely a first novel to be proud of. I would not be surprised to find Deanna Frances snuggly placed among the more popular young literary voices currently publishing.”
– Diana Zwinak, Executive Director of
Teen Writers and Artists Project
“Taking Chances shares a message of hope and proves that with courage and faith one can reach the light at the end of the tunnel.”
– Amy Gee, educator, Illinois
“Frances’s work is truly something special.”
– Heather Croyl, social work student,
Millikin University, Illinois
“This teen novel about the horror of family abuse leaves readers hanging on for a happy ending—one that just might include true love.”
– Mrs. Jennifer Miller, educator
“Deanna has written one amazing book.”
– Eli Vainowski, student, Northern Illinois University
“I couldn’t put it down!”
– Shelby Kroeschel, student,
Indian Creek High School, Illinois
“Taking Chances, is a young woman’s journey of new life in a small town. Through physical, mental and emotional pain, she survives it all with admirable strength.”
– Nikki Tolentino, student, Northern Illinois University
“Truly inspiring.”
– Ashley Gauger, student,
Waubonsee Community College, Illinois
Title Page
Taking Chances
by
Deanna Frances
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences are either a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual organizations and persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.
“Taking Chances” © 2007 by Epic Records
Written by Kara DioGuardi and David A. Stewart
A New Leaf Book
Published by
WigWam Publishing Co.
P.O. Box 6992 Villa Park, IL 60181
http://www.newleafbooks.net
Copyright © 2013 by Deanna Frances
Cover Photography © 2012 by Stephanie Hulthen Photography
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without expressed written permission from the publisher. For more information contact: WigWam Publishing Co., P.O. Box 6992, Villa Park, IL 60181.
This book is dedicated to all of the dreamers.
Never stop taking chances.
Acknowledgements
Writing a novel is not just sitting down and writing for hours on end. It takes a lot of support and a lot of help. There are so many people I would like to thank for their help on this five-year journey.
First I would like to thank Mrs. Jennifer Miller, my eigth-grade English teacher, who told me I should write a novel at age thirteen. Without her encouragement and support, I would have never even thought about writing this book. I would also like to thank Diana Zwinak, and her non-profit organization, Teen Writers and Artists Project, for getting me involved in the Adopt-An-Author program, and for supporting my writing. I’d like to thank J.D. Gordon for mentoring me for so many years and for helping me re-create this novel to be what it is today. Jim, my day is finally here. I’d also like to thank Teresa Basile and New Leaf Books for publishing this novel. I’d like to thank my friends and family who have supported me throughout this process. I’d like to thank Tim Tausch, my best friend and partner for over two years, who has supported every dream I’ve had, no matter how farfetched they may be. It’s not every day that a young girl from my small, rural town writes and publishes a book. You wouldn’t believe how many people thought I was going crazy. I’d like to thank Heather Croyl, my big sister, who has never doubted me or my dreams. She also reads everything I give to her, no matter how long it is. I am so grateful to have a friend like her who is always there when I need support or guidance. Finally, I would like to thank all of the readers who will pick up this book. Thank you for giving me someone to share my work with.
Chapter 1
TAKING CHANCES
Helping others had always been a passion of mine.
When I was little, people would ask me “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I’d say, “I want to help people.” I wanted to make the world a better place for others.
As I grew older, I knew I wanted to be a school counselor or study child and family counseling to help kids and their families who were having trouble with things like divorce, poverty, and mostly above all, abuse. When I wasn’t working, I spent time at a local family center helping kids gain self-confidence. Whenever I did something nice for someone else growing up, it made me feel good to know that I’d made an impact on someone’s life. Although, the impact some people made on my life was not always good.
I’d had some pretty bad days in my life, but my seventeenth birthday was turning out to be the worst so far. That morning, our landlord, Mr. Jackson showed up on the small doorstep of our south side Chicago apartment followed by two tall men in dark blue uniforms and gold badges. Policemen.
“Hello Sydney, are your parents home?” Mr. Jackson asked me, anger in his sharp voice.
“I’m sorry, no.” I shook my head.
“Sydney, I am sorry to lay this all on you, but if your family is not out of here in one week, we are changing the locks on the doors, and all of your belongings will be out on the front lawn!” He looked at me with his dark eyes and the threat seemed even more frightening.
Mr. Jackson turned around, and the policemen followed as they all got into their cars and drove away into the bright sunlight.
I knew exactly how that had happened, because it wasn’t the first time. My stepdad, Michael, had just lost his job after receiving his third DUI in the past two months, and my mother, Maddie, couldn’t hold down a job either. I guess she didn’t get the fact that if you don’t show up for work, you get fired. They both depended on alcohol to get them through every day.
We lived on welfare in our small apartment, along with money I earned from working my three jobs. Michael and Maddie would take almost every paycheck I had to spend on their latest bottle of beer bought down at the corner liquor store that they should have been paying for the apartment with. Maddie always said Michael had so much money, so I didn't understand why the rent wasn't being paid. Well, that explained why we were getting evicted.
My real father, Andrew Baker, left us right after I was born, leaving my half-sister Violet, my half- brother Clayton and me to our mom who could barely care for us by herself. We were not even sure who Violet and Clayton’s fathers were, and the only memory of mine was a crumpled up picture of him and Maddie on a big, black Harley in Vegas after their honeymoon. We struggled after my dad left, and Maddie found Michael soon enough. She thought a new stepfather would be nice for us, and that he’d have money to get us on our feet.
They were married right after my fifth birthday, and I noticed a change in Maddie. She was always tired and I didn’t really know what was going on. Michael would slap her acro
ss the face and throw bottles and chairs at her, and then, as he saw her crying and bleeding on the floor, he’d say how sorry he was, and that he didn’t mean it. Then, he’d take her upstairs to get cleaned up, and they’d come back down with nice clothes, and Michael would take her out for the night as an apology. Although, as Maddie walked out of the house, she would tremble and fall, as if her legs were too weak to carry her.
The next morning, she would be tired, and wouldn’t act like herself. She continued to get mentally and physically weak, and then she started drinking more. Violet said that she drank because it helped her ignore the pain. I asked Violet what was going on, and she told me that Michael drank too much, and got angry, and that was why my mom was getting hurt. Only a few days later, she and Clayton were the victims. I didn’t know what to do. Michael had never hurt us before, and Maddie just stood and watched them get hurt. He would yell and scream at Violet, and when she tried to yell back, he’d take her by her long hair and throw her against the wall. When Clayton tried to defend Violet, he’d get pushed against a table or wall.
After Violet turned eighteen, she left and Clayton and I were the ones being hurt. Michael did the same things to me as he had done to Violet. Clayton left just three months before I turned seventeen, leaving me alone to care for Lillian and Rebecca, who are Maddie and Michael’s two biological children. Someone had to be the parent. We all had to stick together. If I ran away then, they would probably be living in a cardboard box on the street begging for food money because I knew that Michael and Maddie wouldn’t care for them. I knew I had to help my sisters, and the only way how was to take any abuse Michael gave me until I turned eighteen; when I could leave and take them with me.
As for Clayton and Violet, Clayton started selling illegal drugs down in the alley behind our apartment, and Violet worked at a nightclub in the bad part of the neighborhood. To get away from the pain and torture of my everyday life, I wrote poems and short stories to escape. If I didn’t write, I would probably be depressed enough to work at the nightclub with Violet.
Well, that was my life I guess. Sydney Baker, the mother figure, the hard-working student, the abused child, and the determined young woman who wanted to make a difference in the world. With everything I had to worry about, getting evicted from the home I paid for was just another reason to be afraid of what was ahead.
Chapter 2
SHABBONA
The next day after my shift at a local diner, I received a phone call that gave me much needed hope.
“Sydney, it's Aunt Megan.”
“Hi,” I replied excitedly. Aunt Megan was Maddie’s younger sister. She called at least once every week to keep in touch.
“I have some bad news,” she said sadly. “Grandma died yesterday.” I froze. Grandma couldn’t die. She couldn’t leave me.
I was on the verge of tears when Aunt Megan said, “We read her will this morning, and she’s asked me to take the family farm and move you and your Mom, Lillian, Rebecca, Violet and Clayton out here to Shabbona. I’ve talked to Maddie, and she says that she wants to leave Michael, but she’s not ready yet. Maybe this will give her that chance.”
My grandma was my strength, my rock. She was forever trying to make our lives better. She was my inspiration for helping people. She was always the first one I'd call if I needed help or advice.
Grandma lived in a small town called Shabbona. It lies about two hours west of Chicago. I used to love going to her country farm. Big cities had always been too much of a hassle for me. I had been dying—literally—to live in a small town since I was a little girl.
My grandma and Aunt Megan were the only ones I could trust. They cared for us, and I think they knew that Michael and Maddie were alcoholics, but I highly doubt they knew about the abuse. After Maddie married Michael, we didn’t have as much contact with them as we’d wanted. Grandma would call and talk to Maddie until Michael yelled at her for talking to “them.” Grandma hated Michael for taking us away from her.
“The funeral is next week, and I think it’s best if you guys move in then,” Aunt Megan said, bringing me back to reality.
“Wait, I can live in Shabbona?” I asked excitedly, having realized just what she’d said.
“Yes, and when you turn eighteen, you inherit the farm. Grandma knew how much you liked it here. She loved having you over to visit.”
“When do we need to come?” I asked.
“Well, actually, I sent a truck to your house. You’ll be moved in here in time for the funeral.”
“Thank you so much Aunt Megan!” I exclaimed.
“It’s no problem, sweetie. Grandma and I wanted you out of that messy city.”
“Thank you!”
“No problem, well, I have to go, but I’ll be there on Tuesday, okay?” she asked.
“Alright. Thank you.” I hung up. I was getting out of Chicago. I wouldn’t be getting away from the abuse, but it was a start.
* * *
Michael didn’t like the idea of moving, especially to a place as small as Shabbona. When I tried talking to Maddie about it, Michael stormed inside.
“What are you two talking about?” he asked in a drunken tone. I sighed.
“We’re talking about my mother,” Maddie said softly to him, as if to try and calm him down.
“Oh, her. Well, she’s dead now. There’s no need to talk about her,” Michael said.
“Well, my mother has given us her home down where I grew up, and I think it would be a good idea if we—”
“Oh, Maddie, don’t bring up that shit again. We’re not moving.”
“We can barely afford the rent here,” she argued quietly.
“The landlord came over again the other day,” I murmured under my breath. “He said that if we don’t pay the rent soon, we’re being evicted.”
“What did you say?!” Michael yelled angrily as he came towards me.
I took in a deep breath and held it.
“Michael, I think we should go,” Maddie said.
“I don’t care what you think!” He screamed as he slapped her across the face. She fell to the ground and held her hand over her bruised face. I closed my eyes and stood still, hoping he wouldn’t hurt me, too. I opened them slightly after a minute of silence and saw Michael looking down at Maddie in anger.
“Dammit, Maddie!” he said. “How can I take you out like this? Your face looks like shit!”
Anger filled my veins as he spoke, but I stayed silent. I didn’t want to look anymore like Maddie than I already did. Michael seemed more careful about where he hit me, though, because I was out in public more than my mom.
“Why can’t we?” Maddie said quietly. “It’s the one thing I want…”
“To move to that place?” he asked her, a little quieter than before.
“Yes.” She looked up at him and he sighed.
“Fine, fine. We’ll move, but I don’t want to hear another word from your stupid daughter about it.” He glared over at me and then went up the stairs. I sighed and smiled.
We moved in the next week, and I couldn’t even believe it. I had acquired a few more cuts and bruises from Michael after my mom had left that night, but I got the family to Shabbona. Well, everyone except Violet and Clayton. They said they weren’t going no matter what. As for me, I couldn’t believe that I was brought straight to my own personal heaven.
Aunt Megan had registered Lillian, Rebecca, and me for the Indian Creek School District in Shabbona. Lillian would be at the high school with me as an incoming freshman, where I would be a junior because of my late birthday. I would be one of the oldest in my class. My birthday was right on the cutoff date for kindergarten back in Chicago. Rebecca would be at the middle school in seventh grade.
The town’s population was a mere nine hundred and fifty people, leaving only about two hundred and ninety in my new school. We would start school with the rest of the students the next day, Monday, August tenth.
Grandma’s funeral was difficult to attend. I
cried throughout the ceremony, and held hands with Aunt Megan as we watched the burial of the woman I admired more than anything. And I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d said “hi” to her....
I continued to cry as I settled into my new room. I emptied all of the cardboard boxes of my clothes into my grandma’s old dresser and wished my grandma was there with us. After I unloaded my favorite novels onto the bookshelf, I set my alarm clock so I would have time to get ready for school, and show up early. I fell asleep, hopeful.
While I drove to school in my old silver Toyota Corolla, I thought of what was to come that day. Grandma had bought me the car when I turned sixteen so I could come and visit more often, but that had never happened. Michael would never let me go. She would also send me gas money so I could get to work and school, and I had a feeling now that she was gone, I wouldn’t be going very far. I’d just filled up my gas tank with the last envelope of money she’d sent me. It would probably only last a week or so, if I was lucky and didn’t go many places. I would have to see how much money I’d collected in the jar under my bed that I always kept to try and scavenge a few dollars of my tips from the diner.
I had showed up at the school a little earlier in order to find my way around without having to embarrass myself by asking for help. Lillian said she wanted to ride the bus with Rebecca instead of riding with me, so I was alone.
When I got to the school, I looked at it briefly. It was a small school covered in red brick and surrounded by grass and trees. There was a baseball and softball diamond to the side, but nothing else was really there. It was a lot different than Chicago. Back there, there were metal detectors and security guards and police cars all around, waiting for trouble. I noticed that there were no students in the parking lot with me, just some vacant cars. I was about to step out of my car when I noticed that there was another student in the parking lot.
Taking Chances Page 1