Posted in Gifted

Gifted Chapter 1

Chapter 1

You wouldn’t know it by looking at me but I’m the most wanted foster child in America. At least that’s what Mr. Harris said.

I’ve got scabby knees. Mr. Bill says that they’re scabbed beyond repair. I’ve fallen a lot trying new things.

My brown hair is always a mess and I’ve been told more than once that my fashion sense stinks.

Partly the reason why my fashion sense stinks is because I like to wear knee high socks and shorts/skirts to show off my knees. I’ve had more than one foster mother make me cover my knees.

If I’m so wanted then why do I have so much trouble staying in one place one may ask.

I’ve lived in every state at one time or another. The least amount of time I spent in a state was two days. It was seven months ago and Montana. The Andersons’ didn’t like me very much.

Mr. Bill says that it’s not my fault I have so much trouble finding a home. He says it’s the government’s fault for having so many corrupt people in the foster care system.

You see I’m gifted, special, unique. I can speak twenty-five different language. I can play just about any instrument. I can sing. I can dance. I have a photographic memory. I can remember stuff before I was even one. I’m only twelve and I already have my high school diploma (and I’ll graduate from college this summer).

I’ve had a hundred and seventy foster parents. A hundred of them have tried to use my gifts for profit.

The worst were the Winters’. They own a club in Boston. I became a household name at least in Boston because of them.

I performed in their club and I played in various symphonies in Boston. After three months of that kind of life I finally called Mr. Bill and asked him to get me out of there.

Too bad the day he got me out of there a huge blizzard happened.

So far Mr. Bill has been pulled over twice by the police and each time they’ve told him that he’s not supposed to be on the roads unless it’s an emergency and twice he’s yelled at the police saying that getting me to my new foster family is an emergency.

If you haven’t guessed by now Mr. Bill is my social worker. He’s the best and is devoted to all his kids. He tried to adopt me once but for the stupidest reason the state won’t let him. He’s got ten children already and something about adopting the child you’re a social worker to and blah blah blah.

“We’re here,” Mr. Bill said stopping the car. It was really snowing now. I couldn’t even see my new foster parents’ walkway to their house. I stepped and sunk into the snow. My knees and the snow collided.

I’m not that tall. I’m only four feet eight inches. I’m starting to regret wearing shorts today.

When I finally gotto the door I’m sure that my knees have caught frostbite and walking in this cold snow was all for nothing cause I’ll have to be rushed to the hospital. Mr. Bill catches up with me and rings the doorbell.

I try to think of something to say. Whenever I’m meeting a new foster family, I want something really smart to come out of my mouth. A woman with long sorta curly brown hair opens the door before I can come up with anything good.

“Yes?” She asks not opening the storm door.

“Mrs. Rivers? I’m William Johnson, the social worker. I called a couple of days ago and told you that I’d be dropping off Jessie-Maria on Friday,” Mr. Bill says.

Nobody ever really calls me Jessie-Maria. Mr. Bill does that for ‘legal’ purposes. Everybody just calls me Sean which is my last name. My mother called me that first. She had named me Jessie-Maria because she said that when she saw me she knew I would be ‘bitterly blessed’ with gifts. I don’t know what that means but I sure can get bitter about my ‘gifts’. It also didn’t hurt that Maria is the name of my mother’s all-time favorite character from The Sound of Music.

“Yes, you did call to tell me that but with this blizzard going on I would have thought it was at least postponed until tomorrow,” Mrs. Rivers says still not opening the storm door.

“Can we come in?” I ask.

“Of course!” Mrs. Rivers shouts opening the storm door. I walk in the door and instantly she notices that I’m wearing shorts and knee high socks.

“Scares show struggle and struggle leads to success,” I say. Mrs. Rivers’ looks at me and slowly nods.

I start to feel my cheeks blush. That was the stupidest thing I could have possibly said. I’m the shyest girl in the world well that’s what Mrs. Lewis said. Anyway, I’m shy so I don’t say much so I try to say something smart or humorous when I do speak. People like me because I think big and talk little, well that’s what Mrs. Peebles said.

“Tom, honey she’s here!” Mrs. Rivers shouts to her husband.

Mr. Rivers walks into the hallway. He’s a relatively tall man who was strangely wearing a cowboy hat.

“Welcome,” Mr. Rivers says offering his hand. I shake it. I hear a hint of a Southren Accent in his voice.

“I just need the two of you to sign some papers and I’ll be heading out,” Mr. Bill says opening his briefcase.

“You can’t go back out in that blizzard!” Mrs. Rivers shouts.

“I have to. My wife is probably freaking out,” Mr. Bill says taking a pen from his pocket. Mr. and Mrs. Rivers signed the paper.

“Call me,” Mr. Bill says giving me a kiss on the forehead.

I watch as Mr. Bill drives away down the street. I wonder if I ran out into the street if he would came back.

I look at Mr. and Mrs. Rivers just standing there in the hallway and right then and there I decide to keep my gifts a secret.

Posted in A Moment With Me

A Moment With Me, Ari

Today is my dad’s birthday (Happy Birthday Daddy!) and we went out to lunch at Red Robin because he works nights.

I decided that I wanted to try something hot so I order this Ghost Pepper thingy.

It was SO good but then BAM! hottness overcomes me. I take another bite and its SO hot that I start to cry and quietly bang my fist on the table.

The waitress brought me some ranch and blue cheese and my mom took some of the peppers off…..ok in the end all of the peppers off.

My peppers
My peppers

But it still was hot! It turns out there was hot sauce on the buns. In the end I couldn’t finish my burger.

unfinished burger
unfinished burger

That’s my way of living on the edge.