27. Arya

I still don't understand why time slows down to a painful pace when you're waiting for something to happen. It almost feels as if time is mocking me. I'm sitting at work, tapping my pencil against my notepad and biting down on my thumbnail. Sam's words repeat in my head and I try to decode the meaning behind his nervousness. He rarely gets nervous but when he does, it's usually about something serious. How could he tell me that he has something to say right before my shift and then not tell me what it is? That's just pure torture!

A customer enters the store and immediately heads towards the notepads. It's a girl. She's about my age and slim but still a little curvy. Her hair is a hazelnut color with blonde highlights. I can't help but envy her as she picks up the different notebooks and eyes them curiously. She even looks beautiful doing the simplest of tasks. How is this fair? I would probably just look clumsy...

The girl suddenly looks over at me and I put my pencil down, stand up and greet her, putting a fake smile on my face. Mel has taught me well.

"Do you have any more leather-bound notebooks? I've been looking for one for ages. I've been told that you might have some."

I nod patiently and explain that we might have some in storage. She smiles, showing off her extremely white teeth that have probably been bleached professionally more than once. It's that kind of unnatural white that you would see in a Crest commercial. That kind of white that my teeth will never achieve.

Lazily I sort through our notebooks until I find a stack of beautiful leather-bound ones, handmade by a local artist. I pick out one that I find particularly beautiful. I also know that this one is particularly expensive. Making my way back into the main area, I feel a smug smile pulling at my lips.

"Hey, so I found this but..." I say as I return and hold out the notebook to her.

"It's perfect!" She grabs the notebook and twists it around in her hands. "Oh, wow, I love this. Are those gold details real?"

"Yes, it is. It's a limited edition with real leather. It's $65..." The smile on her face never fades and she whips out her credit card, slapping it onto the counter. I try very hard not to roll my eyes. Of course she's rich as well. 

"I'll take it. It's absolutely beautiful!"

I slide her credit card through the card reader and hand it back to her. The girl is gone almost as quickly as she came in. She barely said anything let alone looked at me. Something about her seems awfully strange. I furrow my brow at the door but the girl is quickly forgotten and my thoughts go back to Sam. Obviously I can't help but think it's something about Seth. What if he's back? The past few weeks I have been imagining the moment when Seth comes back but now I feel more unprepared than ever.

I sit back down in front of my notepad. My fingers automatically find the one page that I've been dreading to look at. My eyes fall upon the drawing in front of me and I am filled with regret at the sight of it. Heat rushes through my veins and my head is spinning as I grab my pencil and start adding even more detail to the meticulously drawn portrait. The eyes that are looking in the distance are the most detailed part about the drawing. I have to swallow hard bite down on my lower lip. The face looks almost like the man in my dreams... Not because they have the same features but because their eyes tell a similar story.

A buzzing noise and a vibration against my thigh tell me that I'm getting a phone call. I jump a little and release my lip from my teeth, pulling the phone from my pocket. Sam.

"What's up?" I say into the phone, clearing my throat.

"How long till your shift's over?"

"Sam, can't you just tell me what's going on? I'm dying over here!" I realize how panicked I sound and try to calm myself down by taking deep breaths.

"I will tell you when you get home but..."

"Is it Seth? Is he back?" I interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. My hands get clammy. Sam sighs on the other end. I imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes. That's what he usually does when I mention Seth's name.

"No." My heart stops and I feel like I can't breath. Of course he isn't back. Of course not.

"My shift ends in thirty minutes." I manage to choke out but tears are already running down my face. As I end the call, I angrily wipe the tears off my face. I need to stop being such a cry baby!

With my hands on the armrests of the chair, I push myself up and start pacing. Why do I feel so... disappointed? I didn't want to see him. That's what I told him and myself. But now... Now I realize how much I've actually missed him. How much I need to see him. Of course I want him to get better but how can I make sure that he's actually taking the right steps? How do I make sure that he doesn't forget about me?

The next thirty minutes I spent pacing around the store. I am going crazy inside my mind and the clock mockingly slows down to the slowest pace possible. When my shift finally ends, I lock up and get ready to go home. I'm afraid of what's to come, yet I am itching to find out. 

Humid air heats up my whole body as I walk back home. It doesn't matter that my feet start hurting halfway there or that I'm drenched in sweat, I keep my legs moving. They keep carrying me towards home until I reach it and never stop once. 

"Arya!" Sam calls through the opened kitchen window from inside the house. I can hear his feet pound the ground as he's jogging towards the front door and when he pulls it open, I can see that he has been crying.

Now I'm alert. Sam never cries.

"Tell me. Now!" I order, pushing past him and kick off my shoes. 

Sam follows me into the living room and when I turn, he's a picture of anxiety and fear. 

He stares at me for a few seconds, his eyes shiny with suppressed tears. His lips tremble for a mere second before he blows out a long shuddering breath. From where I'm standing, I can tell that his hands are shaking by his sides. Whatever this is, it's bad. 

I take a couple steps towards him and put a hand on his upper arm.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, Sam. It'll be fine."

Sam steps around me and sits down on the couch, dropping his face into his palms. Another deep breath blown out, he runs his fingers through his messy hair. "This won't be fine, Arya. Not this time."

I sit down across from him, giving him his space. My own fingers start to tremble now, my breathing going irregular. 

"You're scaring me."

"They want to take you away from me." A sob rips through his body and once again he puts his face into his hands. "Our social worker called this morning."

"What?! Why?" Is all I can manage to shout. This can't be happening! Not again. Not now! "Sam, I want to stay here. I'm not going back. I'm not!"

"It doesn't matter. They're saying I'm not equipped to support you. I'm not enough of a parent to you. They say you shouldn't have been allowed to stay with me in the first place. Arya, I don't get it." Sam's tears make my heart ache but my own anger overwhelms me. "They're going to put you back into the system. Arya, I won't let this happen. I can't!"He leans back in his chair, still sobbing, trying to get the tears off of his face.

I take a shaky breath and stand up. Slowly, I walk towards him and kneel down in front of him. I force myself to choke down my anger. My anger at the system, the people trying to take me away from the one place that has been good to me despite everything that has happened. No matter how much bullying I would endure here, no matter how many Leena's I'd have to deal with - this is home! 

"It's going to be alright." I say but my voice sounds strangely unfamiliar. Fake. "It'll only be two years – then I'm 18 and I'll come back to you. We'll be fine. Don't worry." Sam looks up at me, his eyes are bloodshot. He shakes his head.

Two years. Two years. Two years. My words repeat over and over in my head. 

"You don't know what it's like, Arya. People like us don't get put into happy families. We don't get to live with doctors and architects. Do you know what happens in the foster families that we end up in? Because I do and I don't want you to..." His voice breaks and I remember the stories he has told me about his fostering experience. I imagine the stories he hasn't told me.

Since I've never been put in a simple foster home, just group homes, neglect is the worst thing I've experienced so far. Back then, I wanted nothing more than be on my own and learned to survive. Now, I can't imagine going back there.

"Sam, you know me. I'll be fine. I'll fight. Don't forget, I have done this before as well."

"I can't let this happen... Please, God... No."

"Sam... shhh..." I wrap my arms around him. "We're family. I'm here now so everything is fine."

"I'll tell you everything tomorrow." He hiccups. "I'll explain it better... I just... need to think everything through."

I brush my hand against his cheek and kiss it before going upstairs. As I have my back turned towards him, I feel myself being rushed with a mixture of emotions. They are numbing and icy cold, chilling me from the inside out.

When I fall into bed and my head hits the pillow, I let a few silent tears roll down my cheeks but for once I'm not feeling like I'm going to break apart. I try to remember the words that I used to comfort my cousin and force myself to believe them. I close my eyes and wrap my arms around myself. Fortunately my mind is quiet now and I slowly drift off to sleep, still fully dressed.

**

The next morning my phone wakes me up. Surprisingly my face doesn't feel puffy and my eyes aren't nearly as swollen as they usually are after having cried. I find it easier to get out of bed and get dressed. For once I don't criticize myself as much when I look into the mirror. I don't quite know when that change happened but I'm glad it did. 

Having spent so much time, worrying about what I look like, feels like such a waste of time now. 

I shake my head to myself and tie my hair up into a high ponytail.

When I get downstairs, Sam is sitting at the breakfast table, a cereal bar and a glass of milk in front of him but he isn't eating. Instead he is on the phone with someone. The deep wrinkles on his forehead show his concentration and irritation so I decide to remain standing outside the kitchen and listen in to his conversation despite my better judgement.

"I'm not quite sure. The social workers have most of her papers..." He pauses and I listen to the strong, male voice on the other end but can't make out what the man is saying. "I don't know, I'm sorry. That's why I called you for help. I need it, I really do."

"Morning." I say before this goes any further and sit down next to Sam. His eyes widen, he apologizes to the man on the other line and hangs up. "Who was that?"

"No one..." Sam avoids eye contact. I narrow my eyes at him but change the subject. I'd rather be around secretive Sam than the emotional wreck that he was last night. I need to trust him right now. 

"Look, I'm not sure what happened last night." I start. "But I'm not scared and I don't know why exactly. I just don't think it's going to be as bad for me as it was for you. Maybe I'll get lucky, live with a nice family for a year and then come back to you." I smile and take Sam's cereal bar for him to lighten my mood.

"Sure." Sam stares at his phone and starts dialing again. "I can't drive you to school today but I'll see you when you get home, okay?" He disappears upstairs and I'm left behind, wide-eyed. What the heck was that?

Taking another bite of Sam's cereal bar, I walk towards the front door and put my shoes on. If Sam is not going to drive me, I'll have to either take the bus or walk and I'm not about to start walking to school. For some reason, whenever I decide to walk somewhere, something bad happens.

The bus is crowded and possibly my worst nightmare. Kids between the ages of ten and eighteen are screaming, bouncing around the bus and of course eyeing me as I make my way towards a free seat. I half expect the teenager next to the free seat to put their school bag on the seat before I can sit down but then realize that I'm not really stuck in a 90's high school movie.

Fortunately the bus ride is uneventful and I get to school in the matter of fifteen minutes. When I get there, the parking lot is filled with students and I can't help but let out a dramatic sigh. This student body doesn't exactly make me feel welcome. But I have more important things to worry about, more important things to occupy my mind. So, I make my way towards the school, ignoring the fact that it feels like everyone's staring at me. It's almost like they'll never get bored of making comments or giving me strange looks. How can people get this much pleasure out of making someone feel uncomfortable? I'll never understand that. I have been raised to treat people with kindness and no matter how awful people have been to me and my family, I had never bullied anyone.

As I walk through the halls, I try to gather as much strength as possible to keep my head up high. I shouldn't give these bullies the satisfaction of getting me down. No matter how bad I feel, I won't let them see it because that is all they want.

First period is as boring as ever and in the blink of an eye, it's lunch time. I haven't said a word to anyone yet. Ethan hasn't shown his face and even Leena passed me in the hallway without saying anything. Not that I mind that. God, I love that!

The lunch lady greets me with a lopsided smile and slaps some macaroni and cheese on a paper plate. Gratefully, I take the plate and a bottle of coca cola and start looking around school for a quiet place to eat. I find myself in the library. I know I'm not supposed to eat in here but nobody is in here to tell me off, so I hide in the very back behind some bookshelves and start digging in.

I listen carefully and am always alert, in case someone comes in here. I have actually picked out a book to cover up the plate on my lap... just in case. But nobody comes in here at lunch time anyway, so I finish my food and drink and throw away the plate, plastic fork and can.

"You know, you're not supposed to eat in here, right?"