Dichotomy

Charlotte watched the lush green trees flash by as she gazed out of the window of the sedan. It had been a while since they passed any sort of civilization. The winding roads just seemed to go up and up; deeper and further into the mountains and forest. "Beautiful, isn't it? I think you'll be very happy here." The caseworker stated cheerfully. He was trying to make her feel better about the move, but his overly jovial tone came off a little forced. "Mhmm" Charlotte murmured in agreement, hoping it would be enough to satisfy the man. Her whole life was once again being uprooted. She wasn't in the mood for small talk. Fortunately, he appeared to take the hint and they fell into an awkward silence that she much preferred to the mindless chatter. Charlotte turned her head once more to the window, fiddling with the string on the trash bag that contained her meager collection of clothes and the scarce other possessions she owned. She hadn't had much time to pack. Her last foster mom died of a heart attack on Christmas day of all days. The woman had always been rather robust in weight, so perhaps it was the glazed ham that finally sent her over the edge. Still, Charlotte felt it was rather sad; her foster mom was only 58. What's more, she was one of the few foster parents that was truly kind. Unlike most of her previous foster parents, Charlotte would miss her very much. The kind-hearted woman had opened her home to those who were most vulnerable and in need. That was something the vast majority of people would never do, too afraid of the imposition or inconvenience. It didn't seem fair that the woman's life had ended so soon. The social workers had shown up in force as soon as they learned of her death, descending like vultures to usher the children away. Cold and uncaring, the metal cogs of a broken system. Charlotte's eyes began to get misty as she recalled not being able to give the younger ones a proper goodbye. Charlotte had been in the foster care system for 14 years now, so she was used to being uprooted abruptly. The little ones weren't. It was always harder on them. Thinking of their teary little faces looking back at her as they were dragged into different cars made her stomach churn. "Here we are!" The caseworker announced as the tires spun to a stop on the gravel driveway. What was his name again? Paul? Peter? She supposed it didn't matter, she had a new caseworker every year or so. The turnover was extremely high. Charlotte stepped out of the car, evaluating her new foster home cautiously. The house was small and worn-looking. Its siding was so weathered that you could hardly see what color it had started out as. Only the bits of chipped white paint and blue trim gave it away. The porch was equally as rough. However, the steps leading up to it must have been replaced relatively recently. The color of the wood didn't match the rest of the house. At least the owners were trying to take care of the necessary things. All in all, it wasn't bad. Charlotte had seen worse. "Oh, you must be our new foster!" A tall thin lady squawked as she ran over to Charlotte and hugged her. Charlotte flinched, not expecting the thin spindly woman to touch her. "Such a sweet face! What is her name?" The woman asked, pinching her cheek and looking over her head at the caseworker as if Charlotte couldn't answer for herself. "Erm, it is Charlotte LightningStorm I believe." The caseworker answered awkwardly. He had far too many kids to keep up with, but he was pretty sure that's what it said on her folder. "My what a strange name!" Charlotte rolled her eyes. This lady lived in a town called North North Rochester and she thought her name was strange. "Mr. Rayburn, she's a little older than we expected. We were hoping for a younger child. It says so in our file." The woman stated bluntly. Her claw-like hands were stroking Charlotte's hair, making her feel uneasy. Charlotte got the impression that they were new to fostering from the way the woman was making unreasonably specific demands. The system didn't work that way. "I know but as I told you on the phone, the state prefers not to send younger children to far-off places such as this. They prefer to put youngsters in urban and suburban placements so they can be closer to any remaining family they might have." The caseworker explained uncomfortably. "Charlotte is already 17. She will be 18 in a few months, so this is a short-term placement. It's possible your next placement will be a younger child." He offered, hoping to appease the woman. "I promise I won't be any trouble ma'am," Charlotte added dutifully, trying to reassure her. She knew there was no way the caseworker was going to take her back. There were far too many kids in the system and not enough foster families. He would force them to try to make it work regardless. Charlotte had previously been in the group home for 6 weeks, waiting for a placement, and she knew she was labeled as an MI, a minimum issue placement, meaning she wouldn't cause much trouble in a foster home environment. "OK, we'll see how it goes. As long as the girl is on her best behavior, I don't think we will have any problems, but if not, we may have to return her." The woman responded. The social worker gave her a pained smile, thinking the same thing Charlotte was... Foster children weren't shoes you could just return to the store for a new size or style. And even if the woman believed they were, she could at least refrain from saying it. "Well dear, I am Elaine, and this is my husband, Walter. We will show you to your new room. Walter will help you with your.... things" she said, finally turning to address Charlotte, glancing at the trash bag in her hands with poorly concealed judgment. Walter grunted unhappily before snatching the trash bag from her and throwing it over his broad shoulder. "Well, I'll let you get settled in your new home. I'll be back in a few days to make sure everything is going ok." The caseworker said over his shoulder as he hurried off before they could change their minds. Charlotte took a deep breath to steady herself before following her new foster parents into the house. Walter stomped through the small house until he reached an almost hidden door just past the kitchen. It didn't seem like he was going to be giving Charlotte a grand tour of her new home. Although she was used to not having the welcoming mat thrown out for her and she doubted there was much to see in the small house anyway. The inside of the home looked just as worn as the outside had. As they approached the door, Charlotte noted the five locks that studded the outside. Three were broken, but the other two looked new. Surely this wasn't where they expected her to stay while she was there, she thought, chewing her lip nervously. It looked like a door that would lead to the basement. She wanted to ask about the locks at least, but she was apprehensive. Elaine had disappeared as soon as they walked into the house and Walter hadn't said a word to her yet. In fact, she was pretty sure the man hadn't spoken at all since she had arrived. She was having trouble reading him, so it was best to play it safe for now. Charlotte was pulled out of her thoughts when Walter jerked the door open. Before she had time to react, the man proceeded to carelessly toss her bag into the darkness, her bag which contained all of her worldly possessions.... the only things she owned. Charlotte's jaw dropped in shock. She winced, hearing her glass ballerina shatter as it landed on the concrete floor. "Listen here you little brat" he sneered, "You're going to stay down there. I don't want to see or hear you any more than necessary. You are to remain in your room unless we say otherwise. Got it?" Charlotte gulped, nodding, her golden-brown eyes wide with surprise. This wasn't her first rodeo. She'd been through some rough foster homes before, but she was still caught off guard. Walter was intimidating. The man was built like a brick house. The last thing she wanted to do was to piss him off. He could easily pummel her into the ground. Walter grabbed her thin shoulder roughly and gave her a shove toward the door. Charlotte took the hint and started down the steps. It was dark in the basement, so she tried to feel her way down using both the wall and handrail as a guide. It became even harder to see after Walter grunted and then unceremoniously slammed the door closed behind her. The only light now was coming from the small basement windows. Thankfully, she didn't hear any locks click behind her, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness as she made her way to the bottom. It was small, much like the rest of the house. Metal shelves full of boxes and old junk took up most of the space. There was a bulkhead entrance with a 4 x 4 stretched out across it, apparently to keep it closed. The basement smelled as most basements do, wet and musky. There was no bed, just a small mattress laid out in the middle of the floor. It was covered in clean sheets, pillows, and a thin quilt, Charlotte noted with relief. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. Charlotte had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the string. She was only 5'3 so it was a stretch, but she managed to reach it. The bulb came on, flickering for just a moment. She began pulling her clothes out of the bag under the glow of the yellow light. A couple of jeans and a few shirts. At the bottom of the bag, she found a picture of her parents and her tiny glass ballerina. The ballerina's legs were broken and one of its arms had been shattered in the fall. Charlotte carefully picked up the pieces, holding them in her hands. Closing her eyes, she let her magic flow through her body, focusing it into her hands. Her skin started to tingle. The glass began to heat up in her palms. She scrunched her brow, concentrating on the image she pictured in her mind of the ballerina whole. When she opened her eyes, the broken pieces of the figurine had fused together, leaving no mark or indication that it had ever been broken. Smiling, Charlotte gently placed the glass ballerina on a nearby shelf, brushing some old newspapers out of the way. Next, she pulled out the picture of her parents. She was so young when they died that she hardly remembered them. Sometimes she pulled out the picture to study their faces, trying to invoke some sort of feeling towards them. Her father smiled broadly as he stared jokingly at the camera. He held her pregnant mother gently in his arms, her mother was laughing and leaning into him. They seemed like kind people. Were they? Charlotte had a few gentle memories of her mother and sometimes she longed for that mother-daughter relationship. But it had been so long since they passed, and most of the time she didn't feel much of anything. The picture might as well have been a stock photo. Charlotte was suddenly startled by a loud bang in the basement as the door swung open, crashing into the wall behind it. Gasping in surprise, she quickly shoved the picture under her pillow. "Girl, it is time for dinner," Walter growled. His hulking silhouette disappeared from the doorway almost as quickly as it appeared. Charlotte shuffled up the steps after him. She was not about to try his patience. Her new foster parents did not seem fond of her presence. Walter was already sitting at the table when Charlotte made it to the kitchen. To her surprise, a teenage boy was seated next to him. He was wearing a letterman jacket so Charlotte guessed he was either a junior or senior in high school, meaning he was about the same age as her. The boy glared at her as she moved toward the table. "This is the orphan girl? She's hideous." The boy sneered. What a jerk. "Well, F you too." She snapped back, dryly. The teen gapped at her, but his surprise quickly melted into anger. Charlotte gulped, feeling the heat of his glare. Walter slammed his fist down on the table, without speaking, causing the flatware to jump and clatter. Charlotte dropped her head mumbling an apology, suddenly taking an interest in the contours of her empty plate. She knew she should not have said that. Even if it was true. It was almost always better not to fight back. She was an i***t. "Just ignore her Danny. She will be out of our hair soon enough." Elaine chided as she dropped a pile of cooked beans and rice on Charlotte's plate with so much unnecessary force that some of it splattered on her t-shirt. Everyone else had ham or pork on their plates, Charlotte noticed after Elaine finished dishing out the food. Charlotte wasn't about to complain though. She was grateful to even be given food; it was clear she wasn't welcome here. "I'm going to stay over at Kyle's tonight. He wants to throw the ball around a little. Jordan and Alex will be there too," Danny told them, having apparently forgotten his previous anger. "On a Friday night?" Elaine questioned as if there weren't worse things a teenage boy could be up to on a Friday night. "Yeah mom, just for a while. We'll play video games or something after." The boy stated as he shoveled food into his mouth. So, he was their biological son it seemed. Charlotte was a little surprised. Elaine and Walter looked kind of weathered and rough, but she had to admit... their son was nice-looking. He had even features, dark chestnut hair, and light blue eyes. If it wasn't for his bad attitude, Charlotte might have found him attractive. They hadn't even made it halfway through dinner when a loud knock interrupted them. All four of them looked up in surprise. Judging by their reaction, it seemed neither Elaine nor Walter were expecting anyone. "Wonder who that could be. We weren't expecting any visitors." Elaine said, frowning. Walter grunted in response. His chair groaned as he shoved himself away from the table to answer the door. "I've got to get going anyway. I'll see ya later ma." Danny said, tossing his empty plate into the sink. "Oh, hey Jacob, Greg" Charlotte heard Danny greet. There was a muffled reply... "No, I'm just headed out." Danny continued. Walter suddenly reentered the kitchen, looking more serious than usual if that was even possible. "Send the girl to her room." He said to Elaine. Charlotte was surprised to hear a touch of fear in his voice. What could he be so unsettled by? She wondered. Elaine's long boney hands quickly wrapped around Charlotte's arm. She jerked her out of the chair, dragging her back to the basement. "Stay down there, girl." The woman ordered harshly. The door slammed behind her, and this time Charlotte could hear one of the deadlocks slide into place. What in the world was going on? Charlotte wondered. ***GIO*** The sun felt good on his black fur as he ran through the woods. His massive paws dug into the pillows of snow, leaving icy imprints. He howled into the sky as his long legs carried him over the land effortlessly. Several calls answered his. Not as many as there used to be.