Green Eyes
Introduction
I was lying on my hard, lumpy bed and starring up at the darkened ceiling, counting the beats of my own heart with my foot, it was my form of a lullaby. I didn't have schooling until after lunch, and I was determined to catch some shut eye before the old bat came in and continued to teach me about hamlet and decimals.
What was the point? My life wasn't going anywhere.
'Jayla, you need to be friendlier towards the families that come in.' I heard the aging woman yell at me in my head. The whole orphanage was going to be closed down if they couldn't manage to place my rebellious and stubborn ass in a happy home before the end of the month, which ment I was the first child on the 'available' list.
From what I've heard on a daily basis, I'm pretty, talented, and have a lot of potential, but no one wants to have a disabled child sitting in their basement for forty years. The families that are actually interested have the creeps and the weirdo's in them, and I always put up my sky-high walls. Others where too poor to afford my needs. So, no one was interested in sixteen year old Jay.
Figures.
I was raised by a woman who worked at the orphanage. She was by my mothers side when I was born, and she got to name me. From what people tell me, she hated the way my mother acted towards the child she never wanted, so she never gave me a last name. She was going to adopt me, but when I turned one she died of a heart attack.
I met my biological mother about a year ago. She was happy and rich, married to a man fifty years older than her and pregnant with his fifteenth kid. Needless to say, she jumped for joy when she found out she saved her own ass by dumping the disabled child into the adoption program at ten hours old.
She didn't even give me ten minutes of her time.
"Jay!" Sammie's excited voice pierced through me, but I just grunted.
"What?"
"There's a family!" She giggled excitedly, and I extended my hand up into the air to give her a thumbs up.
Another horrible thing about me, I cant keep friends for more than a month, they're either freaked out by my lack of interest in life or adopted as fast as they come in.
She made a 'pft' sound, and I knew she was rolling her eyes. "Not for me. I heard the director talking about you, they're coming in today."
I groaned and rolled over, miscalculating the bed and landing on the floor with a loud 'clunk'.
"Are you okay?" She asked, running to help me to my feet. I slapped away her grasping hands and jumped to my feet, bumping my head against the wall. I knew she was cringing in pain, watching me struggle with my disability.
"I'm fine." I cried, after a chorus of ow's and profanities.
"Jay, don't be afraid to except help." She sighed, as she watched me trace the familiar way to my bathroom on the wall. "By the way, I brought you some books, the library got a few new authors in yesterday."
I nodded. Books where exactly what I needed right now. There was nothing to do around this god forsaken place, the only TV in the building was crowded by kids 24/7, and listening to Spongebob and and Dora the Explorer all day was not my idea of fun.
What was the point? My life wasn't going anywhere.
'Jayla, you need to be friendlier towards the families that come in.' I heard the aging woman yell at me in my head. The whole orphanage was going to be closed down if they couldn't manage to place my rebellious and stubborn ass in a happy home before the end of the month, which ment I was the first child on the 'available' list.
From what I've heard on a daily basis, I'm pretty, talented, and have a lot of potential, but no one wants to have a disabled child sitting in their basement for forty years. The families that are actually interested have the creeps and the weirdo's in them, and I always put up my sky-high walls. Others where too poor to afford my needs. So, no one was interested in sixteen year old Jay.
Figures.
I was raised by a woman who worked at the orphanage. She was by my mothers side when I was born, and she got to name me. From what people tell me, she hated the way my mother acted towards the child she never wanted, so she never gave me a last name. She was going to adopt me, but when I turned one she died of a heart attack.
I met my biological mother about a year ago. She was happy and rich, married to a man fifty years older than her and pregnant with his fifteenth kid. Needless to say, she jumped for joy when she found out she saved her own ass by dumping the disabled child into the adoption program at ten hours old.
She didn't even give me ten minutes of her time.
"Jay!" Sammie's excited voice pierced through me, but I just grunted.
"What?"
"There's a family!" She giggled excitedly, and I extended my hand up into the air to give her a thumbs up.
Another horrible thing about me, I cant keep friends for more than a month, they're either freaked out by my lack of interest in life or adopted as fast as they come in.
She made a 'pft' sound, and I knew she was rolling her eyes. "Not for me. I heard the director talking about you, they're coming in today."
I groaned and rolled over, miscalculating the bed and landing on the floor with a loud 'clunk'.
"Are you okay?" She asked, running to help me to my feet. I slapped away her grasping hands and jumped to my feet, bumping my head against the wall. I knew she was cringing in pain, watching me struggle with my disability.
"I'm fine." I cried, after a chorus of ow's and profanities.
"Jay, don't be afraid to except help." She sighed, as she watched me trace the familiar way to my bathroom on the wall. "By the way, I brought you some books, the library got a few new authors in yesterday."
I nodded. Books where exactly what I needed right now. There was nothing to do around this god forsaken place, the only TV in the building was crowded by kids 24/7, and listening to Spongebob and and Dora the Explorer all day was not my idea of fun.
Notes
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5/23/13