Gifted Connections 1

“Why are you already up and what could have possibly happened already,” his tired, disgruntled voice mumbled.

“Nobody invited you to this party, Boy Wonder,” I said a bit snidely. “Sounds like someone’s grumpy in the morning.”

“I don’t know why I continue to allow myself to be verbally abused,” he muttered.

“I don’t know why either, Grump Grump. Maybe you should never come back. I don’t need you.” I sighed, too tired to argue with him. I found it disturbing at times how I regarded him. There were times I was relieved to hear his voice, and I loved the fact that I could tell him anything, well, almost anything. Then there were times like this when I was just plain frustrated to talk to an imaginary figment of my mind.

I didn’t know if he truly existed. I didn’t know if I was truly crazy. Maybe if I took those drugs they forced down my throat at the mental facility his voice would disappear, and I would know I was insane. On the other hand, I felt like I needed him. He helped me in so many ways.

“You don’t mean that, honey,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I’m so grumpy. I’m tired and I have a game today and two tests.”

“I’m sorry too, Mr. All American. I’ve been stressed out lately,” I said sheepishly. I know he means well.

He snorted in amusement. “Want to talk?”

“Go to sleep,” I said with a smile. “We can talk later.”

“Okay, dear,” he yawned. “Have you been practicing?”

“You know I haven’t.” I reminded him.

I pulled up my barrier as Ella came barreling back in the room. “Let’s go!”

“Get dressed first,” I laughed, feeling lighter, knowing he had calmed me once more.

We were walking out the door less than fifteen minutes later. I was dressed in my normal cargo pants, a t-shirt, and a baggy sweatshirt. I took better care of Ella’s appearance; elementary kids could be so cruel. She was dressed in a cute pair of blue leggings, a yellow dress with blue flowers, a white cardigan, and brown knee-high boots. I even parted her long blond hair and gave her two French braids with matching yellow and blue ribbons on the end.

I had packed peanut butter sandwiches and apple slices for our lunch. I even slipped fifty cents into Ella’s lunch box so she could buy chocolate milk at school. I tried to buy food that would keep in our room. On occasion, I even went into fast food joints and purchased the cheapest thing on the menu. Then I would raid their napkin and straw station, taking every condiment I could get my hands on: mayo, jelly, salt, pepper, hot sauce; anything I thought useful to store for a later date.

My mood lifted as she chattered away happily beside me, skipping the whole way to the restaurant. After we picked up a large coffee and a breakfast sandwich for me, and an orange juice and French toast sticks for Ella, we walked to her school.

“I have dance today,” she reminded me around a mouth full of food. “Do you have work today?”

I smiled down at her. “Finish what’s in your mouth first, El,” I reminded her gently. “No work. So, I’ll be here when you get out of dance.”

I was happy that the school offered afterschool programs. I handed them thirty dollars and for twelve weeks my sister got to be involved in an extra-curricular activity. I missed the days when my dad was around. We constantly moved, never staying in one place until he met Heidi. He always had me involved in something; piano lessons, soccer, swim, gymnastics, dance, softball. He believed a busy child didn’t have the energy to misbehave. I was a good child, but prone to mischief, so it had worked.

“Yay!” she cried, breaking into her happy dance.

I laughed as we walked up to the sidewalk leading to her school. “Be good in school today. When I pick you up we can do a little shopping. How does that sound?”

“Can we get fruit snacks?” She looked up hopefully.

“Yes,” I replied with a smile.

Thanks to a bachelor party that came in on Friday I was up two hundred dollars more than my average. I had already dropped the one hundred and twenty-five dollars off at the trailer park office for the upcoming week, so I was ahead. I left fifty dollars on the table for Heidi, deceiving her into believing I had a bad weekend. I set aside one hundred dollars for groceries for the week. Thirty dollars was set aside for the next afterschool activity for Ella, and forty dollars was in an envelope in her backpack for the next two weeks of her before-school-care. I decided that Ella and I would use one hundred dollars at the thrift store for more winter clothing. She had outgrown most of her clothing from last year, and winter would be upon us soon. That left three hundred and seventy-four dollars for me to store for Operation Leave Heidi.

“Double yay,” she replied excitedly as I wiped her face of any remaining syrup and grabbed her trash.

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and ran towards her school, her braids bouncing along.

I shook my head affectionately and turned to walk the rest of the way to school. I hadn’t ridden the school bus for quite a while. The bus route we took was less than ideal for me, let alone for Ella. After Ella came home from school and told me that the boy down the street explained to her in graphic detail what sex was and invited her to his house to get high and fool around, I made the decision to never allow her to ride the bus again. She was five, and the other boy was eleven. Luckily, she had no true comprehension of her words, but it alarmed me never the less. It was a mile walk to her school and an additional mile to mine, but I didn’t mind it. I contemplated purchasing bikes for us so it would be faster. Winter time sucked.

When I got to school, I knew I had moments before the bell rung. I hurried my pace to get my books for my first three classes. I lived a lonely existence that I both hated and was indifferent towards. There were people I talked to, but I would never call them friends. They never invited me to sleepovers or to the mall, but it was of my own doing. I snubbed people on a daily basis. I preferred them thinking I was stuck up or painfully introverted, opposed to the truth. When people got close, they noticed my bleak existence and/or they hoped I was an easy lay.

I slid into the back left-hand corner of my homeroom class and immediately pulled out my AP English Literature book. It was my next class, and I knew my teacher would have a quiz on the reading material we went over last week as we did every Monday. I had already read it several times, and I was confident that I would be able to ace this test, but it also worked as a natural deterrent for anyone wanting to strike up a conversation.

I noticed everyone spent their thirty minutes in this class to catch up on the events of their weekend or plan for this upcoming week. A few people used their time to quickly complete any unfinished homework.