Page 7 of Mistaken Magic

"Exceptturn it into a jungle!"Mrs.Sparkswailed. "Youcall him right now,John, orIwill.Andhe won't like whatIhave to say!"

"Fine,"Mr.Sparksagreed. "Nowcalm down before the other kids get worried.I'llhandle it."

Iheard her feet thump toward the stairs.Amoment later,Mr.Spark'svoice came back. "Hi,Liam.Yeah,Ithink we have a problem.Justhad a flock of crows move in and one broke into the house.Yep, the new one.Mhm.Well,Nancy'snot willing to take any chances.Youknow what those other boys did to her."Therewas a long pause. "IthinkIcan convince her to wait until tomorrow, but she'd prefer tonight.Iunderstand,Liam, but can you blame us?Thesethingshave no place in our home!So, if you won't deal with her,I'lldrive her back to the state home myself."Anotherpause. "Soundsgood.She'llstay in her room until then."

Untilwhen?Iwanted to ask.Nevermind thisLiamguy.Whothe hell was he?Ididn't have to wait long to find out.Bythe timeI'dkicked my shoes off,Mr.Sparkswas back.Mybedroom door burst open without even a polite tap, and the man was just there, glaring at me as ifIwas some kind of monster.

"IthoughtIwas trying to help,"Isaid, doing my best to explain.

"Yourkind don't know how," he grumbled, turning back to my door.

Thatwas whenIrealized he was holding something.Twosomethings, because one was a screwdriver.Mr.Sparksused that to begin working on my door knob.Thething came apart rather quickly, which was whenIrealized the other thing was another knob.Wasthe asshole going to lock me in here?Ihadn't done anythingwrong!

"DoIat least get to know how longI'mgrounded?"Iasked.

Heturned to glare at me. "Grounded?Doyou think this is a joke?Youwill stay in this room until you see your caseworker!"

Ok, soLiamwas my caseworker?Goodto know.Ihadn't met the guy for this area yet.Maybehe'd even listen to me, because this?Verymuch not ok.

"WhatifIhave to pee?"Iasked.

"Thenyou can knock on the door and hope someone hears you," he snapped.

"Iwas just trying to get the bird outside,"Igroaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Wehad a sparrow in the house once, and the foster momIhad at the time tossed a towel over it, but we all had to be still so it would land.That'sit!Ididn't bring it in.Youdid!"

"Don'tplay coy with me," he grumbled.

Yep, insane.Completebasket cases.Maybeit was best thatI'dget to talk to my caseworker.Clearly, the state home would be better than this!Howthe hell was a wild bird my fault?Besides, it was a crow.Theywere supposed to be very smart and could hold grudges.I'dread about that too.

Butit wasn't worth arguing,I'dfigured that much out.So, whileMr.Sparksworked on my door,Ifound my suitcase and rummaged in it untilIhad my book.Oneof my previous families had given me copies ofTheOutsidersandPrideandPrejudice.Classics,I'dbeen told.Rightnow,Iwent forPrideandPrejudice,just because it was bigger.

Bythe timeIwas settled on my bed with the book on my lap,Mr.Sparkswas done.Heclosed the door - hard - to test it, then opened it again.Theslamming made me look over, to find him simply waiting.

"Thedoorknob is iron.Thinkhard before you grab it."Thenhe left, slamming it one more time.

Strangely,Ididn't hear a lock click.Iwas dying to test it, butIwasn't stupid.Mr.Sparkswas probably waiting on the other side, hopingIwould do something wrong so he could beat the shit out of me.Instead,Ilost myself in the story.ItwasWednesdaynight.ThatmeantIhad four more days beforeIcould escape to school - unlessImanaged to get myself moved.

Theirony of that made me chuckle.I'dnever imaginedI'dthink of going to school as an escape.Thenagain, this was a pretty good incentive to make sure we made good grades.Themore extracurricular stuff we did, the more time we could spend out of the house, and the less time theSparkshad to deal with us.

Thewhole thing sucked, though.Itwasn't my fault my mother had killed my father.Intruth, it wasn't her fault either.Theman had left her no other choice.Ihad a feeling the seven other kids here would say just about the same thing.Itfelt like we were paying for the sins of our parents, and nothing we could do would change that.

Icouldn't remember the last timeI'dhad a place that felt like home.Theidea of stability was foreign to me.I'dmastered the art of packing my things quickly and moving without complaint.Unfortunately, that wasn't a skillIcould make look good on a resume.

Nevermind my options onceIaged out of this place.IfIwas lucky,I'dget accepted to college, live on grants and student loans untilIgot my degree, and then be able to get a good job.IfIcouldn't manage that,Imight get a stipend to help cover my housing whileIfound a job.

Themore likely option wasI'dhave to figure it out on my own, butIwould.I'dbeen a foster kid long enough thatIknew how to plan ahead, work hard, and ignore the shit that sucked.Mostly, it was becauseeverythingsucked in the foster system.Atschool,I'dget picked on for being a foster kid.Athome, it appearedIwas going to be slave labor.

Thehours ticked by, and no one said a thing.Therewas no lecture, no threats, and thankfully, no beatings.Finally, someone knocked on the door, waiting untilIsaid they couldcome in to open it.Onthe other side stoodStephanie, holding out a plate of food.

"I'llbring breakfast up in the morning too," she said.

Igot up to take it. "Thanks.DoIget a hint of what's going on?"

"They'rea little superstitious," she whispered. "I'msorry.Ididn't even think to say anything!"

"AllIdid was get the stupid bird out of the house,"Iinsisted.

Shenodded, taking a step back to make it clear she couldn't stay. "Iknow.Soundslike you have to talk to your caseworker afterMr.Sparksgets home tomorrow."Thenshe grimaced. "Ireally am sorry."

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