The New Kid, part 3

Oops, with all my Thanksgiving preparations I totally forgot to update the blog. My humble apology. Well, here it is, the next installment. Enjoy!!!! Have a happy, wonderful, joyful, thankful, Thanksgiving!

 “Listen, you’re gonna tell me what I need to know. Or else!”

“Or else, what?”

“Or else. I’ll stick your head in the toilet. I’ll wash your mouth out with soap and I’ll stuff you in your locker.”

“Ha-ha! All those things have already been done to me. You’re too late. You need to be more original. I thought they were sending their best after me.”

“Listen kid, I need that information something bad.” I took a step forward and clinched my fist at my side.

“You’re a kid too now!”

“Regardless, I’ll break an arm or a leg. Don’t allow my stature to make you complacent. I can still do my job. Now give me what I want, and I’ll go away.”

“Am I really supposed to believe that? You know its kind’a hard to take you seriously with that yellow bow in your hair and that yellow and white sunflower dress. Didn’t someone tell your mommy that you were in the sixth grade and not elementary. That outfit is really babyish.”

“Do you really think I care what you think about my outfit? Are you an idiot or something? I said, I’d let you go. Just give the thing to me already!”

 “You’ll simply let me live out my life here? You’ll just go away.”

“That’s right. You can trust me. I’ll let you go.” I held my breath with anticipation.

“Right. I should trust you. It seems you’ve forgotten the time in Paris that you shot me. Or, the time we got married in Costa Rica and you poisoned me. Or the time we were sailing the Caribbean and you threw me overboard to the sharks, right after you stabbed me in the leg. Or the time - ”

“Okay! Okay! I get it. You have…trust issues. Hey, it’s my job, don’t take it personal.”

“Right. Issues, major issues,” he said. He backed away from me and my intrusive stance.

He stared at me. I stared back. He wasn’t budging and neither was I.

National Adoption Day

I interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to bring you this important announcement:  November 21 is National Adoption Day. Please enjoy the post below as my tribute to the day. Your regularly scheduled blog continuation of "The New Kid" will be next Wedesday.


I’m in the room very impatiently waiting. Today was a huge day! I glanced at the clock on the night stand - they were late.

Today was special because I was receiving the best present a girl could get. No, it wasn’t money or a car - which both came in at a very close number two. It was even better than both of those.

What do you ask could be better than those? Not much, I’ll be the first to admit. But, wait for it…I’m getting a new sister!

Okay, honestly this enthusiasm is new. Seriously, when Mom and Dad sat me and my dork-fest brother down to tell us, enthusiastic wasn’t the word to describe how we felt.

The dork-meister, a mere three years younger than me, never agreed with anything I said or felt, until now. “No way. I don’t need two of them walking around. Do you know how uncool she already is and now you want to give me another one. Have you people lost it. Listen, if you want I’ll put on a wig and some of that cherry lip stuff and come and cuddle with you twice a month. You can buy me presents - only guy stuff though. That should get this out of your system,” he whined.

“Wow, can you get any weirder,” I said. I rolled my eyes at the thought of him with a wig on. “Mom, Dad, listen to me. You don’t need another kid to validate you. You did a wonderful job with me. It’s not your fault the dorkster’s such an embarrassment. All kids stray. We don’t need another kid in here mixing things up. I’m willing to give up some of my social activity to spend some time with you. And I’m willing to allow you to lavish me with presents. For my unselfishness, I only want one thing…no more siblings please.”

Of course my parents didn’t quite see it the way me and the dork-guru did. They marched us into the family room and turned on the computer. They showed us a video about the kids that are waiting in foster care to be adopted.

It was surreal. We saw this one kid, a girl, who lived in a group home. She could have easily been me. It was shocking. She seemed completely normal. We had similar interest, like sports and make-up. She also said she “loved math” but I think the adoption agency told her to say that because every girl I knew hated math. Aside from this one white lie (and come on people we’ve all been there) she seemed legit.

I guess I sort of thought only weirdoes and delinquents were the only ones needing to be adopted. I didn’t need the stress of some kid coming here, stealing my things, burning down our house and killing my parents and the dork. A little dramatic right. I’ve watched too many Lifetime movies.

I was so wrong though! By the end of the video I was convinced. Not totally thrilled about the idea but I was willing to try. I even thought I saw the dork-authority with a tear in his eye.

I was proud of my parents for making a decision like this. There were so many kids on that site that needed a home. I felt awful for them. I couldn’t imagine not having a family or being separated from mine - even the dork-master.

So I promised my parents I would try really hard to make her feel like apart of our family. She was the dorkster’s age, which was cool. I could help her to fit in…be a real big sister. The kid would probably follow me around, like a mini-me or a clone. I didn’t even mind.

A car door slammed and I jumped. I guess she's here, I thought. I took a deep breath and crossed the room. I spun around one final time. I wanted to ensure everything was perfect and in its proper place. Mom had requested for me to decorate her room. It was black and fuchsia leopard print. I was positive she would love it.

I turned the knob and walked out the room. Nervousness gone, a sense of pride lingered. I’m going to do all I can to make this kid feel wanted and part of our family. But first thing…I’ve got to meet her. Gulp!
　
　
Every year thousands of kids are placed in foster care. These kids need loving and supportive homes too. However, too often they are left to wait in the system. Can you imagine not having a family? Feeling like you don’t belong anywhere… Well, these children can relate to those feelings.

If your parents open your home to a child, be a good brother or sister. Aspire to make them truly feel like part of the family. It’s difficult emotionally for children (especially older kids) to be placed in foster care or adopted. They have the lingering feelings from their birth parents and/or siblings. This is a big adjustment for them also.

So, don’t open your doors without first opening your heart.

The New Kid, part 2

Okay, you've waited patiently all week so here is the latest part of the story. You'll have to wait till next week to get the rest...Ha Ha Ha!!! Love it!

Looking up at the brown brick building, I nearly vomited. Schools had always had that affect on me. I recalled the last time I had been inserted into a child; it was over 30 years ago. I couldn’t believe they were wasting my talent on this trivial nonsense.

Stepping inside the building, I was greeted by dull fluorescent lights overhead and the smell of bubblelicious bubble gum. Paper was strewn about. Kids raced and yelled back and forth. My head instantly began to throb. No one looked at me or bothered to ask if I needed anything.

I spotted the ultra geek positioned at his locker. I didn’t make eye contact with him or anyone else, for fear he would run. I really didn’t feel like chasing anyone. I knew from past experiences, however, they all ran. Fittingly, I had worn tennis shoes.

I slithered past the other students in the hall, until I stood directly behind him. The idiot didn’t even notice me standing there. How absurd, seeing that I was invading his most personal space.

The halls began to unclutter. Students slowly trickled into their classrooms. I waited patiently behind the biggest dofuss I’d ever seen. With my patience worn as thin as this kid’s social ability, I finally spoke up. “Excuse me. It’s my first day. I’m looking for the girls’ gym. Do you know where it is?”

He jumped, startled to find me there, glaring at him. He sauntered to the left then to the right, trying to catch his balance. It took him a minute. I was thoroughly vexed by his level of dorkiness. He adjusted his glasses to his tiny nose then smiled slyly at me. “Um, yes, I could show you where it is. But then, I would be late for my class. That’s just not acceptable. I don’t get tardies.”

“Okay, well, can you at least walk me half-way to the class.” He refused to make this easy. I should have known.

He ignored my second request for another question of his own. “How long have you been here…I mean in town? I haven’t seen you before. It’s a pretty small town and new people stick out like a 60 year old operative in a yellow and white froufrou dress.”

Neither of us spoke, clarity rendering me speechless for a moment. How’d he figure me out so quickly?

The New Kid

Okay, this week I am trying something new. This is not young adult fiction, which is what I usually write. It is more a work of middle grade fiction. It was so exciting to write! I am happy and eager to share with everyone. This is the beginning of the story; I will post the next part on the following Wednesday. Not sure right now how many parts there will be, but I will let my character decide her fate. Enjoy!

Sarah’s my first name. I’m not sure about my last. I was born early Sunday morning in August 1946. This was my first birth, but not my last. I was born fully adult. I’ve been a kid before and hated it. Now, I only play adult roles, they’re easier for me.

I sat up groggy and wide eyed, always unsure of my new surroundings. This particular insertion had gone smoothly, nothing like the last two.

I searched my mind for this new location. My memory always a bit hazy upon entry was soon flashing images of this new assignment with ease. I had to obtain a copy of a new processor created by a loser I had chased and killed a number of times. He was like a cockroach, he refused to die. And, he would not give up the processor without a fight.

I pushed past the abundance of character information. It was not important. I had my own ideas about how to play the character. But, because I was a female, I was not trusted with execution. I complained to my superiors for months at my last insertion station. I was their top agent; I should be treated with more respect.

Threatening to foul the next insertion was my final attempt to get their attention. On many occasions I had had to bail my male counterparts out of the messes they managed to create. Not once have I ever been written up, or had a cleaner have to sweep my characters or the surroundings.

No, I was an excellent agent and I knew it. They knew it also but they continually treated me as if I were not part of the team. After 50 years with these guys. This was for sure my final job. After this I was going to retire. The thought of retiring at the early age of 64 was almost heartbreaking, however, but it was what I had to do.

I had to get started right away. My contact was just in the lobby waiting for me to exit. I kicked my legs over the side of the metal table I was seated on. Suddenly, gripped by fear, I cast my eyes down until they rested on my feet.

They dangled.

They inserted me in a child. Oh, I fumed! How heads would roll for this, I thought.