unREASONable by Arya Matthews
Track 8
Alexandra
In the morning, I come downstairs to a cheerful clamor of dishes in the kitchen and several voices singing along with the peppy pop song streaming through the speakers. Fiona, Charlie, Juliette, and Elise sit around the table crowded with cardboard containers, plates, and a pitcher of orange juice.
“Good morning.” Fiona hands Charlie one of the containers, who then passes it to Elise. “We get together like this a lot and thought you might like to join us. I hope it’s okay we intruded on you like this.”
“I don’t mind.” I sit with them at the table and stare at the containers filled with all kinds of breakfast foods: hash brown patties and sausages, mini Danishes, and fruit salad. I don’t mind the girls inviting themselves over at all. For one thing, the Vipers are strictly prohibited from eating the foods strewn across the table in front of me, apart from the fruit salad. Healthy diet and nutritionist and all. For another, no one here has included me in anything yet. Everyone’s busy and already has their friends. Being considered one of the group without actually doing anything to earn it feels good enough to make my eyes sting.
“You should try some of the Danishes.” Charlie picks up a tiny pastry topped with gooey cherries and drops it on a plate in front of me. Her usual high-strung attitude is completely gone, and a pleasant smile dances on her lips, so different from what she shows around Marshall. That guy’s amazing at bringing out the worst in people.
“Thanks.” I take a bite and almost groan. My mouth is full of pure bliss—flaky, buttery pastry and tender, sweet fruit. I’ve not eaten anything of the sort for weeks at this point. “More, please!”
The girls laugh and eat and ask me mountains of questions. About Russia, about my family, about how I like being in the States. I do my best to dodge anything that brings on painful memories or redirect their attention to different topics. They don’t need to know about my grief. I’m not here for compassion. They can’t help me anyway. They don’t know me. I don’t know them. It’s complicated, and I know I’m the one to blame for making it so, but for now it’s easier this way.
I still have a fantastic time with the girls. It’s easy to share their jokes and gossip even though I haven’t known them for long. I even lower my guard enough to ask, “Is it true then that Shane, Graham, CJ, and Marshall are orphans?”
“Not orphans,” Juliette says. “They don’t have families, and it’s a bit of a mess. How do I explain it well?”
Fiona helps her. “Zach, as you know, has a full family, and all’s well there. The O’Neals only landed in foster care after their dad completely went off the rails with drugs when Graham was thirteen and Shane was eleven. CJ was also thirteen when his parents lost their parental rights. We don’t actually know the full story there. And Marshall’s been tossed about in the system since he was three or so. Even though he was really young, he didn’t get lucky. No one adopted him.”
I’m dying to keep talking about this. I don’t fully understand how foster care works. Back in Russia, there isn’t a reasonable equivalent. Or if there is, not many people enroll in it. At least I don’t know anybody who did this. But I’ll have to look into it later on my own. I don’t want to bog down everyone else’s easy morning with my questions about the American culture. The Internet is my best friend, and talking about this particular side of the guys’ lives suddenly doesn’t feel right. If I want to know something this personal about them, I’d better ask them myself.
Still, as we finish our breakfast, I can’t stop thinking about the guys’ parentless pasts, especially Marshall’s. He’s been an orphan most of his life. No mama to tuck him in at night. No papa to watch TV with him and take him out for treats. Maybe he’s not my enemy. Maybe he’s just protective of the family he has made for himself with the guys. Maybe he’s just a lonely kid who simply needs a hug.
He’s not going to get it from me. I’m a lonely kid who needs a hug too, but I don’t terrorize others just because they play with my friends.