My principal, Mr. Moorman, otherwise known as Napoleon, the name of a pig from a book called animal farm. He had a few straggly bits of grey hair that were plastered to his head by sweat. He had beady, watery blue eyes, a snub nose and chubby round cheeks. He had six fat, sausage-like fingers that he drummed on his round stomach constantly. His smooth, sweat slick skin was stretched too tightly. And of course the feature that led to his nickname was the colour of his skin. It was a undeniable pink. As I looked at him now, his resemblance to the animal was obvious. He was sitting too close to his desk and it cut into his bulging stomach. It didn't look comfortable but he didn't seem to notice, he was sucking something off his fingers. He didn't seem to notice me either. I coughed but he was distracted by the gross slurping noise and my nose wrinkled in disgust. I coughed again, louder this time and his eyes swivelled in my direction. I felt uncomfortable under his gaze. It was different to Flame's smouldering stare. Napoleon looked at me as if I was food.
"Ah Ebony, I was looking for you,"
He moved the half eaten chocolate box to the side with one hand and he held the other out to me. I shook it reluctantly, his handshake was warm and sticky, and I resisted the urge to not immediately wipe it on my jeans.
"Yep," I said trying to sound upbeat but it came out shaky and my voice changed octaves halfway through.
"You seem a little tense, relax, you're not in any trouble." This did nothing to calm my nerves but I forced a smile anyway.
"You're dad is the one in trouble," he said giving a chuckle.
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
"What?"
"Your father landed himself in a spot of bother, the police will explain more I expect,"
The police?
"W-what?" I stuttered.
"Yes, they contacted me to bring you to them, but as I have more important matters to attend to-" I saw him eyeing the box of chocolates. "My assistant will escort you,"
He clears his voice.
"Amy!"
An attractive, young, blond woman appeared out of the adjoined room.
The woman motioned for me to follow her and I did. I heard chocolate wrappers crinkling as I closed the door.
My escort directed me to her car, a pretty, red thing. When I got in I was hit with a strong perfume. So strong, my eyes started to water. Amy hummed to herself as she started the car. I fidgeted in my seat. I wasn't used to cars, my dad didn't own one. I can't remember if my mum did, all my memories of her were a blur. A colourful, cheerful blur. She left when I was eight and I blocked out most thoughts about her. I was still confused about my feeling towards her. I convinced most of myself that I hate her. She left me to deal with my mess of a father and never even visited me. But there's still that tiny piece of me that misses her. Me and that piece disagree a lot.
My thoughts turned to my father. My drunk, violent father.
What did he do this time?
The car ride was relatively silent, aside from Amy's humming that got on my nerves roughly three seconds after it began. She didn't seem like much of a talker, which I was very grateful for, I needed some time to sort out my thoughts. I had to comfort myself. My dad had committed minor crimes before, shoplifting mainly. This was normal in Marybrook, where everyone had a few petty crimes to their name.
The gravel crunched as a greeting when we rolled up to the police station. The squat grey building looked daunting. It had dark marks that stained the stone under the windows, giving the impression that the building was crying.
Amy clicked her tongue and shook her head then beckoned me.
The reception room had mustard colored walls and grey plastic chairs that were lined against a wall. There was a desk against the other wall. A young woman with frizzy brown hair and freckles dotted across her face sat there, sorting through a box of files.
Amy walked over and rapped her nails on the wooden surface.
"I'm here to drop off this one," she jerked her head towards me.
It was the first time I heard her speak and she had a surprisingly low, dry voice.
The woman gave me a bored glance. "Name?"
Since Amy didn't seem inclined to speak again unless it was absolutely necessary, I spoke up.
"Ebony Whister,"
The woman tapped a few keys on her computer and nodded slowly.
"Yes, I see, you can go through that door. She pointed to one of the battered doors that led off this room.
"Go to room number seven," She said before turning back to the box of files.
I turned to Amy, but it seemed as if her duties ended here. She gave me a single curt nod and left.
I found myself chewing on the inside of my cheek when I found a door with the number seven on it. I hesitantly knocked and was rewarded with an immediate answer.
"Come in," a deep voice called.
I stepped inside.
It was a small, stuffy room crammed with filing cabinets and cupboards. There was barely enough room to squeeze in a desk, but they somehow did. It was a small wooden thing that had paper stuffed under one of the legs. The surface was a mess of paper, stationary and folders.
The desks occupant was an unremarkable middle-aged man with stubbly hair that was a light grey. He wore a boring brown suit and had oval glasses with thick lenses.
He gave a fake smile and invited me to sit down.
The chair he motioned to gave a sad squeak when I sat down.
"So Bonnie how are you doing today?"
"It's Ebony," I corrected him quietly.
"Oh sorry," He didn't sound sorry at all. He sifted through the messy piles of paper on his desk and seemed to find what he was looking. He started to flick through thick folder and gave a sigh.
"You're father has quite a long history," he said in a tired voice.
I felt compelled to apologise.
"But this tops it... Armed robbery, assault and illegal possession of a firearm,"
"What?" He was making no sense, nobody was...
He shot me a sympathetic look.
"Look honey," I fought off the urge to shudder at this nickname. "Your try to steal from a bank,"
I blinked at him.
"He fortunately didn't make it out of the bank with any money, the police apprehended him very quickly."
I was speechless.
He waited patiently for a few minutes before my lips started to form words.
"Did he hurt anyone?"
He peered under his glasses at the file.
"Only three were injured in the incident, still a very serious crime,"
I nodded silently.
"So serious, it warrants at least a two year sentence." He looked at me closely as I registered his words.
"But where will I stay?"
"That's exactly why we brought you here,"
My stomach squeezed painfully and my throat grew tight when I realised what that meant.
"Care home?" My voice came out distorted and thick with unshed tears. There was only one care home in Marybrook, it was crowded and full of troubled children. Everyone who went there came out a different person, it was rough and you had to be good at fighting if you wanted to survive.
"No, you still have a living guardian," His words caught me by surprise and I jerked up my head looking directly into his eyes.
"No I don't," I said slowly.
His thick eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he checked the file again.
"Tatianna Kune. 34 years old. Lives on Marybarrow Lane house 34?"
He looked up at me wanting some sort of confirmation. I closed my eyes. Hearing that name brought on an aching pain that I had not felt since the months after my mum left. That beautiful exotic name. She goes by Anna but passed an unusual name onto me, saying it was a family tradition. Ebony. I often wished that she didn't name me such a strange thing. It made people think I'm one of the freaks that lives past Marybarrow lane they are all called weird names.
My eyes sprang open.
Marybarrow lane!
"Could you repeat that address?" I said trying to keep my voice steady.
"Marybarrow Lane house number 34," He looked at me, puzzled.
All this time, she been living a few blocks away from me?
My confusion turned to anger.
She lived five minutes away, she could have visited so easily! But no, she left her eight year old with a drunk.
I gripped the ends of my chair.
Not only that but she lives with the freaks?!
The man looked even more confused at my angry face.
"She's not my mother," I said each word clearly.
Understanding spread across his face.
"Oh I see, she left you. Well that is a bummer but seeing as she is your only living relation we have no other options,"
"I'll take the care home!" I spat, there was no way I could face the woman who abandoned her child only to move five minutes away.
"We will not waste spaces in the care home for cases that have suitable guardians," He started to pack up the folder and he seemed done with me.
But I wasn't done.
"You can't!" I raised my voice.
He looked at my sharply.
"We can and we will, please leave the office and go to reception."
"She's not a suitable guardian! She left me!" I started to turn hysterical and I heard the door open behind me, I felt arms pull me out. I kicked and fought but it made no difference.
Five minutes later I was glaring at the receptionist as she told me what was was going to happen.
Ten minutes later I was leaving the police station.
Twenty minutes later I was packing up my few personal belongings at my house.
Thirty minutes later I was standing in front of the house I was supposed to live in for the next few years.
I felt like crying as I stared at the small red-bricked house that was identical to the thousands of houses that surrounded me. Ivy clung to the wall and the garden was full of colorful flowers. The windows were open and a nice smell was wafting through the air. I closed my eyes and tried to calm my heartbeat and steady my shaking hands. Was I really in Spanish class just a few hours earlier? It seemed like a million years ago.
The women who dropped me off cleared her throat. I opened my eyes and realised my vision was blurry.
"We have to go now," she hesitated and added. "Good luck kiddo," and she slammed the car door shut and drove off.
I was going to need that luck.
Woah this was a long chapter! Anyway hope you enjoyed it!