Send Me Away With the Words of a Love Song

Home. I loved the sound of that word on my tongue. I said it over and over as we drove towards the Baker's house, which was my house now, too. In the backseat of something they'd called an SUV, Zacky sat in between Matt and I, who were in car seats. Zina sat in front between our parents because she was the oldest and she thought she was special.

But I was glad I was sitting next to Zacky. He was nice and he answered my questions. And I had quite a few. To me, Zacky - with all of his nine-year-old wisdom of American things - was the smartest person on earth.

I pointed a small, bony finger at a man pushing a machine that seemed to be eating his grass and then spitting it out. "What is that?" I asked.

"That's a lawnmower," Zacky answered. "It's for cutting your lawn."

"What's a lawn?" I pressed, turning to my oldest brother again.

"It's what you call the grass in front of your house," Zacky replied evenly.

"Do we have a lawn?" I asked next, beginning to get excited. Zina rolled her eyes from the front seat.

"Yes Senoma, we have a lawn," Zacky said. "It's a pretty big one. Sometimes me and Dad play baseball on the lawn."

My face brightened at the sound of this new word. "What is baseball?" I questioned.

Zina let out an audible sigh. "Mom, is she going to ask questions like this constantly?" she directed irritatedly at our mother.

"Now Zina," Mother scolded lightly, patting my sister's knee. "Your little sister is just curious. Let her ask questions."

"Whatever," Zina grumbled. She crossed her arms over her chest, sending her black bangs tumbling onto her forehead, which directed one's attention to her green eyes as she gave them a roll. "She's not even my real sister."

Zina's words confused me. Why would she say I wasn't her sister? I was her sister! They'd told me so. She was my sister now, and I was hers. Why would she say I wasn't?

"Zina Catherine Baker," Mother said curtly. "Now there won't be any of that. Senoma is your sister now, and you will treat her as such."

"Alright," Zina hissed. She tightened her arms over her chest. "I'll be nice to Senoma."

Zacky nudged me with his elbow, causing my body to jerk with surprise. "Don't mind Zina," he whispered. "Mom says she's just going through a phase."

Ah, another new word! My preoccupation with my older sister was dropped to the backburner as my fascination for the English language took control. "Zacky, what's a phase?"

Zacky's face scrunched up in confusion, and his head fell to the right. "I don't really know, Senoma," he said, and I laughed. Perhaps my brother wasn't the see-all, know-all I'd assumed him to be.

But that didn't mean I would stop asking him questions.

...

"And this room right here will be yours, Senoma," Mother said, stopping in front of a white oak door. Decorating this side of the door were glitter letters that spelled out my name, along with flowers and a ladybug with googly eyes. I clapped, the squeal of an excited young girl escaping my lips. Even the door of my new room was amazing. I couldn't begin to imagine what the inside would be like. "Go inside and take a look."

I certainly didn't need to be told twice. I twisted the doorknob and braced my small body against the door, using all of my forty-seven pounds to push it open. The room on the inside was everything I'd ever imagined and just a tad bit more. The walls were painted a soft lavender, with dark purple swirls running the length of the top trim. There was a closet in the right corner, leaving only a small corner on the opposite wall. My bed was situated in said corner, one of its sides touching the closet's outer wall, the other side touching against a ceiling-high window. A second ceiling-high window was just behind my headboard, and both windows were covered by pastel yellow curtains. There was a chest sitting at the edge of my bed, and upon inspecting the contents, I found that it was filled with toys. Oh, I'd never had this many toys before.

"Do you like it?" Mother asked with a smile.

"I do!" I squealed loudly, my voice peaking into an excited high-pitched yelp. "I like it very much, mother!"

Mother chuckled lightly, and her green eyes slipped closed. "Well I'm glad you like it, Senoma," she said. "You can stay up here and play with your toys for a bit, but dinner will be ready soon."

"Okay," I chirped. Mother left and for the time being, I was consumed in my own imaginary world. After a bit, my attention span got the best of me, and I grew bored with my toys. I got to my feet and scurried down the hall, stopping at the first room I came to, which just so happened to be Zacky's.

My older brother's room was a screaming opposite to my own. Despite the fact that he was only nine years old, the gray walls of his bedroom were covered in posters. Posters of people in dark clothing with names like 'Metallica' and 'Misfits' and 'Guns 'N' Roses'. But the one that repeatedly attracted my attention was the one with the words 'Iron Maiden' written on it.

"Who's I-ron May-deen?" I asked out loud.

Zacky turned off the music he'd been listening to and looked up from the magazine he'd been reading. "You mean Iron Maiden?" my brother repeated with a chuckle. I nodded my blonde head. "They're a band. One of my favorites, actually."

"I like that poster," I remarked, gesturing to the Iron Maiden poster that hung on Zacky's wall.

"Really?" Zacky mused. Again, I nodded. Zacky was silent for a short thirty seconds, and then he looked up with a smile. "You can have it if you really like it."

My face brightened. I ran to my brother and hugged his neck tightly. "Thank you, Zacky!" I squeaked. "Thank you!"

"You're...welcome," Zacky choked, forcing me away from his neck. He slid his sock feet off of his bed and went over to the Iron Maiden poster. He had to stand on his tiptoes to take the poster off of the wall, and then he rolled it up and placed it into my palms.

"Zacky, your friends are here!" Mother called from downstairs. At these words, Zacky shot off like a rocket out the door, and I could hear his footsteps descending the staircase.

I went to my room and dropped my new poster on my bed before following Zacky's trail downstairs. I wanted to meet his friends. I wondered if they would play 'dragon' like the boys in the orphanage did. I could hear their voices drifting from outside, and so that's where I went. Father was with them, and they appeared to be playing some sort of game with a ball and a large stick.

Father was the first one to notice my petite figure lingering on the front stoop. He beckoned me over with his hand, saying, "Senoma, come over here and let your old man show you how to play an American pasttime."

As I walked over to the group of boys, I could feel myself being put under the scrutinizing gaze of Zacky's friends. I squalled, not knowing what to do under so much simultaneous attention. "Who's this little shrimp?" the tallest boy asked. He came to stand next to me, and I marveled at his height. He seemed to stretch higher than the mountain, with a mop of messy black hair atop his head, and a pair of blue eyes, much like my own, pressed into his face.

"Boys, this is Senoma," father said, clapping his hand on my shoulder. "This is her very first day in America."

"Well wher did she live before?" another friend asked. This friend was closer to Zacky's height, with dark brown hair that wasn't quite black and brown eyes that were a shade lighter than milk chocolate. I allowed my blue eyes to linger on him for a few seconds longer than the tallest friend. This brown-haired friend was quite handsome for a young boy, and I felt my pale cheeks pinken slightly under his gaze.

"She lived in the Ukraine, dummy," Zacky replied with a roll of his green eyes. "That's where we adopted her from, Brian. Duh."

"Zacky," father warned. "Be nice. Now boys, let's show Senoma how to play some baseball."

"Senoma, you can be a team with me and Brian," Zacky offered, and he led me by the hand over to the brown-haired friend.

Notes