Twenty-Seven
____________
Monday's Child
The weekend came and went faster
than a long awaited birthday party for an eight year old. Jenny spent Sunday
reading both the books of Lamentations and Ecclesiastes; she also looked
through the Proverbs of Solomon, Thirty-one
chapters means I could read one chapter of Proverbs a day for most months.
Jenny remained plagued by her
dreams during what little time she actually had slept Saturday night, but she
slept straight through Sunday’s night until a waking knock at her bedroom
door announced the dawn of Monday. Maybe
I need an alarm clock for the first time in my life, Jenny’s happy
thoughts comforted her.
Once Jenny arrived at school she
entered and walked down its crowded locker-lined corridor. Some tough looking
girl asked her snootily,
“What’s it like turnin’ tricks
for drugs?” but Jenny ignored her, a principle of action she obtained from her
life on the streets.
Jenny enthusiastically enjoyed
her art class, learning some basics of conceptual and compositional pencil
sketches, painting live models, time allotment for live model painting
during block-in sessions and follow-up sessions, stretching a canvas and
techniques used by various artists for charcoal drawings.
So much to learn, but this I
like, Jenny relished in her thoughts. I could stay busy… I mean active
doing artwork like this.
Other classes proved to be
challenging and at the same time enjoyable to Jenny. For some reason Jenny
could figure out verbal mathematic questioned presented by her math teacher
much faster than the other students in her class. I bet this will make me even more
popular, Jenny sarcastically thought.
One girl, a bit shy it appeared
to Jenny based upon observing her mannerisms, sat alone during the lunch break,
so Jenny approached her and asked if she could join her.
“Might as well,” the girl
replied. “I got nothin’ to lose.”
The cafeteria food was the most
boring thing Jenny encountered that day. Mashed potatoes, mushy green beans and
a piece of some sort of meat adorned the plate alongside a chocolate chip
cookie.
“Great food,” Jenny commented.
“Better than I used to get,” the
girl replied.
“I’m Jenny,” her introduction
felt as awkward as it sounded.
“I know.”
“I just started this school
today,” Jenny continued.
“I know.”
Not knowing exactly where this
conversation was going to end up, Jenny asked, “How about you, how long have
you been here?”
“Not long.”
“You like it here?”
“Yeah, it’s ok.” The two word
responses suddenly turned into a three word response.
“Let’s go for four,” Jenny
joked.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Jenny felt a bit
embarrassed about her comment.
“I saw that girl this morning,”
more words flowed from the girl’s mouth, “the one that made the sarcastic
comment to you.”
Glad that the conversation was
flowing, Jenny took another bite of beans then said, “Yeah, what’s her story
anyway? You know anything?”
“Word says she lives in a foster
home now and that she never knew her dad…” the girl took a bite of her meat and
paused to chew it before continuing, “and her mom was some kind of druggie
and prostitute… supposedly OD’d and died a year or so ago. That’s all I heard,
anyway.”
Jenny felt she understood why
the girl that morning may have made the comment she did to her.
“You know if you are rich
druggie or a celebrity druggie you’re viewed as someone needing help and
assistance in rehab, without any long jail or prison sentence, but…” the
girl took a bite of her mashed potatoes, “if you ain’t rich or a celebrity
you’re just a lowlife junkie.”
“You got that right.”
“Mildred, my name’s Mildred, but
people just call me Millie.”
“Nice to meet you, Millie.”
“Likewise.”
Once the bell rang sounding the
end of lunch the two girls returned to complete their day of school.
Jenny’s final class was a course
in creative writing. She liked this class also, almost as much as she enjoyed
her art class.
When the final bell rang, Jenny
scurried home to tell someone, anyone, about her day. To her surprise, only
Mangas Coloradas was present and washing dishes by hand in the kitchen
sink.
“Where is everybody?”
“Hello, Jenny,” Mangas
responded. “Everybody?”
Jenny thought for a moment and
realized that the only other youth in the home was Amir.
“Sharon McKenzie will be here
soon. She went to pick up Amir.”
“How come Amir doesn’t go to the
same school I do?” inquired Jenny, grabbing a cloth to dry dishes with.
“Thanks for helping. Amir is in
a regular public school taking only the basic courses he needs to graduate. The
rest of the time he’s tied up with the community service work he must do
to complete his sentence.”
“Ok.”
Mangas handed Jenny another
plate to dry, “And when we have so few youth residents in FHG we cut back on
staff a little from time to time.”
“Makes sense.”
“So,” Mr. Coloradas pulled the
drain plug signaling the end of wash time, “how was your first day at school?”
As the two made their way to the
living room, Jenny explained about her various classes and relayed her
excitement about her art and creative writing courses.
Once seated, Mr. Coloradas
encouraged Jenny to practice drawing and writing all she could in her spare
time as well, “Keep a sketch book and a writing journal near you at all
times if possible. That way you’ll always be ready to draw or write the instant
something pops into your mind. Otherwise,” the counselor leaned back in
his chair and stretched, “you might forget and lose an idea you had.”
“Great idea, I’ll do that!”
Amir and Counselor McKenzie
returned home about an hour later and the four worked together in the kitchen
creating a restaurant worthy dinner. Amir had to catch up on his
schoolwork after dinner, so Jenny went to her room to read, or, as she happily
thought, write… or draw,
or… whatever.
The hours passed in silence.
Jenny found that she could not sleep again and spent half of the night sitting
and staring into the darkness of her room. When she finally decided to lie
down, she fell asleep abruptly and dreamed…
“Hey, you… girl,” a dark looming
hooded figure in a side street alley hailed Jenny. “Come here!”
Jenny felt herself floating
toward the individual in the alley. The person looked like the Grim Reaper,
wearing a long black coat with a hood.
At the closest end of the alley
a dark cloudy mist floated ominously. Jenny had the feeling that it was some
type of being. At the far end Jenny saw herself. At least she thought it
was herself. It was as if she was watching herself watch herself, jumping back
and forth between mystical bodies somehow.
Stretching out his hand, Jenny
knew this being was male for some reason, the man said, “Check this stuff out,
babe.”
Looking down into the
long-fingered palm of the man, Jenny saw a pink substance that smelled like
gum.
“It’s the best in town, little
lady… the best.”
Jenny stared at the substance
that was clearly some type of drug. Temptation rose within her and attempted to
overpower her. She could almost taste the substance’s sweet flavor
throughout her body.
Jenny looked away quickly,
observing herself from another view at the end of the alley. She saw herself
looking into the man’s hand as the smell of the substance permeated the
air. ‘Gum’ she thought.
“I know you want it, c’mon,
babe.”
Jenny calmly said to the person,
“I don’t like gum, it’s so juvenile.”
As the black clothed individual
and the dark mist from the close end of the alley faded away, Jenny attempted
to turn to see herself at the far end of the alley, but instead found
herself in a large grassy park watching children playing happily.
The loud knock at the bedroom
door awoke Jenny with a startle. Guess
I do need an alarm clock after all.
Jenny wrote a quick entry in her diary before going
downstairs for breakfast, ‘Weird dream last night. Today is a new day and one
with a new future!’
Next Chapter: Fly-Tipping
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