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Seraphina
six years old
When there’s a full moon, most people think about werewolves or Halloween.
Not me.
I always think of Christmas. Because the snow sparkles and the stars seem to glow the brightest. Just like tonight.
I kneel on the couch and stare out of the living room window at the winter wonderland. Everything looks beautiful covered in white. Even the old cars no one ever drives parked in the backyard and the small shed that toppled over and no one ever put back up.
Gabriel and I don’t have any windows in our room since it was added on to the back of the trailer. Well not actually part of the trailer—just sort of built next to it so you can see a tiny line of light peek through where the metal and wood are supposed to touch.
My foster mom smacked the back of my head hard enough that spots danced in front of my eyes when I tried to poke my finger in between the siding and plywood. I never did that again.
“Go to sleep Seraphina!”
Gabriel fusses at me in the darkness. He sounds mad, but I know he’s more worried. If we get caught sleeping in the living room our foster mom will start yelling. Yelling leads to hitting. Hitting leads to Craig getting involved. I can’t let that happen again.
I look back at my brother. Fear burns in his expression as he glances toward their bedroom. He’s as scared of our foster father as I am. He smiles though.
He smiles a lot when he doesn’t mean it. I hate that he has to pretend because I know deep down, he’s really sad.
“I’ll keep watch while you sleep and then we’ll switch, okay?”
He always says that, but we never switch. I guess boys don’t need as much sleep. He just wakes me up while it’s still dark outside and carries me back to my bed.
I hate that part since it’s freezing in our room. He says it’s because we don’t have any vents or ducts since it’s not a real room. That’s why it’s so cold in the winter and hot in the summer.
We only get one blanket each, and my pillow smells like pee since Melissa’s cat Chester keeps using it as his litter box.
When I asked her for a new one, my foster mom squeezed my arm so hard the bruises lasted for a month. Now I just sleep on the mattress and stuff the pillow under the bed until morning.
I lie down on the sofa cushion and snuggle into the quilts from the basket by the TV that Gabriel draped over me. He says he’s not cold, but his skin feels like ice. I switch sides and curl up into a little ball next to him, so the thick fabric covers him too.
“Thanks sis.”
My hair ruffles under his hand. One of his big magic quarterback hands that everyone talks about. They love football around here and they love him.
Gabriel’s the most popular kid at his high school. They cheer his name at the games, and a bunch of girls constantly hang around afterward waiting for him when the team comes out of the locker room.
A pretty blonde girl who smells like flowers and wears glittery lip gloss always asks him to go with them to get pizza or to a party. Every time he’ll glance at me waiting, and he’ll say no, that he’d better get on home.
I feel guilty he doesn’t get to have fun, but I’m glad he doesn’t leave me alone with Craig and Melissa. I hate that. Bad things always seem to happen when it’s just the three of us.
A creak moans from the sagging floor, and Gabriel jumps to his feet, hauling me up with him and dragging me across the sticky carpet. I stumble from the covers twisted around me, but he grabs me under my arms and carries me straight to my bed.
Neither of us speaks until we hear Craig snoring. Thank goodness my foster dad’s asleep, and I feel like I can finally breathe again.
The ache returns to my chest though when my brother creeps over and untangles the warm blankets I’m burrowed in. He piles them up and then folds each one into a rectangle.
“But I’m cold now.”
He shakes his head and lays his finger against his lips, reminding me to be quiet. So, I don’t say a word while he stacks them on top of each other and carries them back to their basket. I just try to get warm again by tucking my knees up under my chin and pulling my tee shirt as far down my legs as I can. That helps a little.
Gabriel is silent as he climbs into his bed and curls up too. I want to cheer him up. “Maybe we’ll get blankets for Christmas. Mrs. Thompson had us write letters to Santa and that’s what I put. A new pillow too and real pajamas with long sleeves and pants to keep warm.”
“Fuck!”
