The rain dripped down Harry’s hair, trickling into her eyes and then blinked down to her cheeks. She had been waiting to be picked up from school for over an hour. Glancing back towards the school from her perch on the steps, now dark, Harry heaved a sigh and prepared to walk home.
“God,” she thought, “the least they could do is pick me up on time.” She then immediately shook herself mentally. If she started thinking like that the bitterness and anger would ruin the rest of her night. Taking a deep breathe she forced herself to get off the steps and start the long walk to her house. Well, the French’s house.
Five years ago Harriet had been plucked from her cupboard at her Aunt and Uncles after several anonymous complaints had been sent to Social Services. The social workers and police had watched the house for days and interviewed Harriet’s teachers, building a case against the Dursley’s. Thankfully, their hard work had paid off and Harriet had been removed from their “care”.
For several weeks the then 5 year old Harriet had stayed in a specialized treatment facility, eating whatever she wanted and delighting the nursing staff. Harriet was so hopeful, so gloriously happy. The social workers had said she’d get a new family, one that would keep her safe and take care of her. Harriet spent hours and days imagining it. She had been so optimistic back then…
Harry tripped, distracted by her thoughts and the past, and hissed at the pain in her stubbed foot. Hopping and grimacing, she waited until the pain had eased to continue walking. It was three miles to the French’s home, and she was already soaked through to her underwear. The rain dripping in her eyes made her feel like she was wading through a rushing river rather than walking along in a quiet suburban neighborhood.
The Frenchs’ would be upset she had walked home without permission, but there wasn’t anything for it. Her stomach cramped up and she laughed inwardly, as she always did, at people calling that sick feeling of anxiety “butterflies”.
“More like jet planes, or poison dart frogs, or nuclear waste bubbling up…” Harriet allowed her imagination full reign as she sought to distance herself from what the future held when she got home. It was always the same, the accusations and blame for anything that went wrong, the screaming and yelling until Harriet was a blubbering mess, the threats of being returned to Social Services, and the unfair punishments, the physical labor that was her foster parent’s substitute for not being able to legally beat her.
Soon, too soon, Harriet found herself at the door to her home. It was a nice, upper middle class home. The Frenchs were moderately wealthy, extremely religious, and all together awful. When they had first taken in Harriet years before, she thought it was the beginning of all her dreams coming true. Here was a Mom and Dad to replace her own, the ones who had died in a fiery crash when she was just a year old. Here were two little brothers to take the place of her awful cousin. There was even a dog, and a pool, and she had her own room! It was heaven on earth.
Unfortunately, the honeymoon period was short lived. Nothing Harriet did pleased her foster mother, Cathy. She wasn’t girly enough, she made too many messes, she had too many accidents… everyday it was something new. To her friends and at church, Cathy was a saint who had taken in this wayward, disobedient, damaged child who didn’t appreciate what the Frenchs had done for her. At home, Cathy raged and screamed at Harriet for any small thing. She told her constantly how she had to be perfect in order to be loved by someone who wasn’t “her blood”. She blatantly favored her real children, who began treating Harriet as more of a servant than a sister. Many times Harriet had thought of running away or requesting a new placement, but where would she go? And, deep inside, Harriet wanted to stay. She wanted to prove to them she was worthy of their love, worthy of a family. The Frenchs’ were her last chance at a family, no one wants to adopt a ten year old.
“Besides, the grass isn’t always greener,” she thought.
Harriet took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside. It was quiet, too quiet, inside the house. She stripped off her wet boots before she made a mess, and started to quietly walk towards the stairs.
“Maybe, just maybe,” Harriet thought, “I can get upstairs and go to sleep and put off the yelling until tomorrow”.
“Harriet!” Cathy’s voice boomed from the kitchen, “is that you? Come in here!” Cathy sounded odd, using her “on the phone voice” and not her hateful, Harriet-specific voice. Harriet walked quickly towards the kitchen, feeling her anxiety ratchet up. Her body was suddenly ice cold and her breathing almost nonexistent. She tried to suppress it, using her considerable will to shove it inside. She imagined taking a giant block of lead and shoving it on top of her feelings, weighing them down, forcing them under.
Harriet entered their kitchen and was immediately confused. A tall, long haired man in a strange set of clothes stood at the table across from a seated Cathy. His hair was an inky black, framing a severe face. His clothes were off, out of fashion maybe? Harriet couldn’t put her finger out what was off about him. Fashion wasn’t her strong suit. He held a drink but did not seem to have actually drank anything. Cathy had a strained, fake-happy look on her face.
“Harriet sweetie, this man has amazing news!” Cathy reported, smiling too wide. “It seems you’ve done so well at school that you’ve earned a scholarship to a special boarding school!”
Harriet started at Cathy, then moved her eyes towards the man. He stared at her unblinkingly. She felt a strange sensation behind her eyes, and had to blink rapidly and turn away, back to Cathy.
“What? Really?” Harriet asked, still confused. And wet. “I don’t understand, what’s the school for? I mean my scores are good and all but…” The man finally spoke.
“This school is for students gifted in a variety of arts and sciences and possessing special qualities that the school values. Your determination and will and power,” he looked at her with a strangely intense look at the word power, “have more than qualified you, far more than your ‘scores’ ever could.” Harriet thought this all still sounded crazy, but if it meant getting out of this place…
Cathy suddenly spoke up, “Well I’m not sure she can go. You see, she’s often disobedient here at home, and she lies about all sorts of things,” Cathy looked at Harriet with a knowing look, and then back at the man. “I’m not sure I can trust her to go to some special school on her own, and even worse to be rewarded like that when she doesn’t truly deserve it!” Cathy said this in her typical, triumphant way. Like it was her duty in life to see that Harriet was punished for every sin, real and imagined. Harriet felt a pit open in her stomach and frantically fought against the urge to scream and rage and break anything in reach. The man’s gaze suddenly shot to her, again with that strangely intense look in his eye. She was so distracted by this odd behavior that she calmed slightly, forgetting her anxiety as she tried to figure this man out.
“I’m sorry, madam…” the man drawled, Harriet still had no idea what his name was, “ but I’ve already spoken with her true legal guardian, the social worker Melinda Bones, and have gotten approval for the change. I will be taking Harriet to the school tomorrow. Please make sure she is packed and ready by noon.” He eyed Harriet one more time as he turned to leave. “I do NOT tolerate lateness.” With that, he walked away and out the door. The door shut and Harriet and Cathy stood in a strained and awkward silence for several moments.
Finally Cathy spoke. “I bet you’re thinking this is great. You get to go out there to your special school,” Cathy's voice was sharp and quiet and laced with cruelty, ”But I know the truth.”
Cathy poked her finger into Harriet’s chest viciously, leaving what Harriet knew would be a small round bruise. “Your parents are dead, and your poor Aunt and Uncle tried to take care of you, and what did you do? Acted like you were abused!”
Cathy was louder now, this was one of her favorite topics. “You’re an ungrateful little sinner, and no one will ever love you. I’ve tried! And all you do is disrespect me and my husband and lie! Well I’ve had it! I’m glad you’re leaving. I’ll be letting your social worker know that you won’t be welcome back.”
With that, Cathy stalked away towards the stairs. Harriet stood frozen. Cathy stomped up the stairs and then stopped at the top, where she shouted down, “And don’t even think of taking a single thing that WE bought you. Those belong to OUR family.” Cathy slammed her bedroom door closed, and the house descended into silence.
Chapter 1: News