Just Alex

Shirley Temple

So whooptidoo. The heck with parental guidance! What’s it about besides training infants while dangling Willy wonka candies? I can't see why I have no right to take care of myself.

Is what I should say to Ms. Shirley temple.

“I can’t see why I have no right to take care of myself.” Oops. Said it. 

“Sigh. Alexandria—“

“Alex’s fine, thank you very much.” I snapped at her with 10% more of my usual sarcasm amplified by 90% bitchiness.

“Yes, yes, you teenagers and ‘cool’ nicknames, but you do realize what’s happening Alexandria, don’t you?” Shirley prickhole looked at me with gooey eyes she meant to look as: I want to help you; but It passed as: Come on you little brat, I want to drink booze and lie on my sofa and possibly get laid. It’s Saturday for crying out loud!

“Well, I hear yah…” I meant for it to stay inside my head, but my mouth is pretty smart for my brain.

“Pardon?”

“Yeah, I get it. I have to pack my bags and move into a mini-room, squished together with five other orphans like a can of sardins, so the government would think they’re doing their job protecting unfortunate citizens, right?

Don't worry--They're already doing a crappy job at it so doesn't matter. You could go back to your place and get drunk all day. I don't want to inconvenience you with my difficultness." I waved my hand in dismissal.

There was a moment of silence. Too long for it to actually be a moment, so I smile prettily at Shirely Temple (a drunken name that’s forever engraved in my mind) whose face is now a delicious shade of Tomato.

The door slammed open and possibly irreparable-- and in came a pixie sized teen-ager with tamed shoulder length black hair.

“We’re here! We’re here! Where’s the old hag you texted me about?” Jenny whipped her head in search for an old hag. Unbeknownst to her, the old hag is looking right at her with eyebrows raised saying: you-called-me-what-brat?

“We came as soon as we’ve heard! There’s—“ Peter arched his eyebrows and swayed towards old ha—I mean, Shirley Temple, in a way he thought was sexy. To the rest of us in the room, it looked like a union of walking drunk guy and frigid principal.

“Why hello there, my little sister’s bestfriend here seems to have been tied up in something. If you know what I mean. *wink.”

Her hand shot right up, creating an imaginary barrier between his face and hers.

“Sir, I do not know what you’re talking about, but Alexandria and I—"

“Just Alex.” The three of us echoed in unison.

“Fine.” She huffed. “Alex-- and I, have important matters that needs sorted by the end of the day.”

“By the end of the day? Are you freakin’ nuts or you just can’t wait for Peter to screw you?”

Miss Shirley was taken-a-back so much that she wanted to cut me off.

“A normal sane person would give me a month to sort this thing out!

---or at least a week. I can’t leave here by the end of the day!” Okay, Alex. Calm down. You can’t go all Rambo with her unless you want to end up in jail instead of an orphanage. Calm down girl, deeeeeep breathes. Yes… that’s it.

“E-ehem.” She clears her throat and motioned her assistant in shades to bring her the papers. She flipped some pages and examined them quickly. She looked at me with the eyes of an adult talking to another adult as she flicked the last page in place.

She smiled sickeningly sweet and bent down a few inches for us to see eye to eye. Literally.

Gahd, her yellow-red striped scarf is so awful, it’s like I’m seeing McDonalds in real person smiling down at me with plump red-ish nose and huge mouth murdered with red lipstick. Ew. Her teeth looks yellow and… is that a smudge of raisins I’m seeing?

I cringed. She seemed satisfied at my reaction. Oh god, if she only knew why.

“You’re a minor, dearie. And it says here that you have to stay at an orphanage until you’re of legal age, well, given your predicament. You’re mom’s dead now, sweetheart. She’s left you alone with no other viable guardian.” Her words smelled like spoiled milk, and yes it’s partly because of her breath, but mainly because I’ve never heard those words before.

My mom’s dead and I read it in some local newspaper. She wasn’t a good mom, I didn’t even live with her. She rarely gives me money, but at least she kept me out of the orphanage.

I didn't hate her… until now. The last strike was appearing headline on last week’s local newspaper:

SALE’S CLERK RUSHES OUT ON HIGHWAY—ROAD KILL.

“Well, if a guardian is what she needs, why don’t I just take care of her? I mean, I have Jenny anyway so another teenager wouldn’t be a problem for me.” Peter looked at Jenny who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Exactly why you can’t be both their legal guardian. If I’m not mistaken, you’re only 26 with an unstable job and a 16-year-old sister to take care of. Quite a handful, if you ask me.”

I clenched my fist and fought the urge to just run away from everything.

Peter and Jenny argued with the old hag, but I can’t hear them anymore. They look all mushy and blurry.

I clenched my fist tighter. I can't cry. Not in front of them, not in front of anyone. I’m not weak. Alexandrie Jones isn't weak. Sandra Jones's daughter isn't weak.

“What if I marry her?” a deep voice came from behind the door. A guy who looked like he’s 17 entered the room and we all looked up—it’s John.