Page 3 of Gluttony

What I’m most looking forward to about aging out is having my own house. My own car—one of those really fancy ones where the roof comes down. I want my own things. Things nobody else can touch, break, or take away from me because they’re mine.

“He’s here! Kids, smiles on and best behavior or there will be consequences.” Linda rushes down the steps and toward the old brown-colored car parking in front of the house. Her tone is as it always is, firm and quiet, a hidden threat, just for us, but her smile is for our new arrival and the social worker.

The back door of the car swings open, and out jumps a small boy with messy blonde hair. Or maybe it’s brown. He stands there, assessing the house, Linda, Seth, Emma, and finally me. His eyes are narrowed and his lips tight, but I can see the uncertainty in the twitch of his hands.

Linda shakes hands with the social worker before she’s officially introduced to the new boy, then they all turn and head in our direction.

“Kids, this is Mickey. He’s nine, and he’ll be staying with us for a while. Will you show him to his room?” The sickly-sweet smile from Linda doesn’t fool me, but it always fools the social workers.

“I’ll do it, since I’m the oldest.” Seth stands. “This here is my little sister, Emma. And the one over there is Bowie.” He purposely mispronounces my name, trying to get a rise out of me, but I just roll my eyes. “Come on, Mickey.”

The new kid shrugs his shoulders, his scowl lightening a little as he looks at me. “You comin’ too?”

Nodding, I stand and we all head into the house with Linda and the social worker behind us.

We each have our own room, although I’d call it more of a box to sleep in because they barely meet the requirements—I only know this because I like to read a lot—but Mom told me to always be grateful for whatever I have so I don’t complain. Not openly anyway. All of our rooms are on the second floor of the house, first Emma’s, then Seth’s, then there’s an empty one before mine. I guess that’s now Mickey’s room.

Seth continues to lead us up the stairs while the adults make their way into the kitchen, probably for a coffee and some of the cake Linda always bakes when they visit.

“First door is Emma, then me, then you.” Looking around behind us, Seth makes sure we’re alone, the adults no longer in earshot before his face scrunches up like an evil cartoon character. “If you snore and wake me up, I’ll bash your face in. If you’re noisy and disturb me, I’ll break your legs. If you rat me out for anything, and I mean anything, I’ll make your life a living fucking Hell. Got it, new kid?” Seth now has Mickey pinned up against his new bedroom door by his arms.

Mickey nods, his eyes wide as Seth towers over him like the lord of the land.

“Good.”

I know what’s coming next, he did it to me when I arrived, and to the kid that only lasted three weeks after that. The way Seth breathes in, the grating noise made from the back of his throat…

So I shove him. “Don’t be so gross, Seth. He gets the picture. Go away now, please.” I know the shoving isn’t exactly ignoring him or killing him with kindness, but I said please, and I don’t like seeing Mickey’s sad face. I certainly don’t want to see it after Seth has loogied all over him, because that was the horrible throaty sound…I know it.

“Getting brave now we have another newb, are you, Bowie?” He mispronounces my name…again…and I want to use the curse words I know, but I’m saving those. We’re not allowed to rat on Seth, but he has no problem doing it to me.

“The social worker is downstairs, Seth. If you want to leave here, just say the word and I’ll happily run down the stairs and tell her you punched me in the face and made me bleed.” The social worker is the one person he’s actually afraid of. I know he doesn’t want to be split apart from Emma, and I don’t really want to be responsible for splitting them up, either. She’s super shy and rarely talks, and if I had a big brother, I’d want to stay together too.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Seth’s eyes narrow on me.

“I would.” Turning to the new kid, I sigh. “Sorry it’s crazy on day one, but if I have to do this…would you punch me in the face? I promise I won’t tell on you. I’ll blame it all on Seth.”

Mickey’s face turns from a deep frown into shock as he looks from me to Seth several times, probably trying to decide which one of us is crazier. I’d say Seth because I’m secretly hoping I don’t have to get punched in the face to prove my point, but I’ll do it.

Clearing his throat, Mickey’s bright blue eyes settle on me. “Yeah. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Yes!” I fist-pump the air, smug that our newest foster brother is officially on my side as I turn to Seth. “So, you gonna leave us alone or are you going on a trip with the social worker?”

His scowling expression hasn’t moved, and if looks could kill I think Mickey and I would both be done for, but they can’t, so my smirk remains.

“For now.” Seth looks down to Emma, who has been silent this whole time—she always is, so no surprise there. “Come on, Sis. Let’s leave these losers alone.”

They both trail off into Seth’s room, softly closing the door behind them. I know it would have usually been a slam, but…social worker.

“My name’s Bowie, by the way, like the singer, not the way he said it.” I hold out my hand for him to shake, because it’s supposed to be polite.

“Thanks, Bowie. ‘Preciate the save. I dunno who the singer is, though.” He clears his throat again after shaking my hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you. He’s the best.” I give him a big wink, just like Mom used to do when she would have a new song for me to listen to.

“So…” He scuffs his foot against the carpet, his hands in his pockets. “We gonna stick together then?” He looks unsure, but I quickly grin because I’ve never actually had someone to ‘stick together’ with.

“Yup. It’s you and me now, Mickey.”

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