Since I cant post the different first paragraph..here is the next bit and you will see what I mean by sounding super dumbed down (IMO)
It was written after the critique of the first bit taking into account the critiquers comments.
Please be aware this is super rough still....and I am REALLY bad at punctuation in dialogue so that is likely a bit of a mess (I dont know, I can't figure it out lol)
**
I had almost finished the sandwich when Margaret’s daughters came into the kitchen. They startled me since they had not come in the front door but seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“Jezebel these are my daughters, Catherine and Susan, “Margaret pointed each one of them out as she said the girls’ name. Tall and skinny like their mother, they could have been twins had they not been different ages. Both girls were wearing plaid school uniforms, Susan, the smaller of the two girls, suited in her uniform quite well in a cute kind of way. Her older sister looked considerably more grown up and filled the uniform out in ways that would make most men swoon. I felt self conscious standing in front of them both because I was neither cute nor filled out enough to even be noticeable as a girl.
“Hi” I said, smiling at both of them.
“Hello Jezebel,” they answered in unison.
Creepy. I had a flashback to the twins in “The Shining” and briefly smiled. I turned to Margaret, unsure of what to expect now and worried about overstepping any boundaries. It was always like living on eggshells the first few weeks in a new place until the routine became established.
“Girls, you go and put on your play clothes please while Jezebel washes her hands.” She told her daughters.
Play clothes? Her daughters looked near to my age and play clothes seemed like such an odd thing. Where were we expected to play, I wondered, that anyone would need different clothes? Surely we weren’t expected to truly play? The whole concept seemed strange and foreign and I wasn’t sure how to react.
As the girls walked quietly down the hall to what I assumed were their bedrooms Margaret motioned me to the bathroom, which turned out to be across from my bedroom, to clean myself up from my late lunch.
“You can wait in the yard for the girls. They will be out shortly.” She said as I dried my hands, “The door is this way.” And she led me to a back door located in the laundry room. This, it seemed, was where the two girls had entered before based on the neatly stacked shoes on a shelf next to the door. To my surprise my shoes were here as well.
“Wait in the yard and don’t go outside the fence.” Margaret commanded as she held open the door for me.
The back yard was as immaculate as the front and lined with neat flowerbeds. In the middle of the yard a massive wooden swing-set/jungle-gym had been erected. I stopped dead partway across the lawn. Surely we weren’t expected to actually play on this set? The yard lacked anywhere else to sit except on the ground itself and a swing seemed a decent alternative. I took a seat on a swing, idly pushing the sand around with the toe of my shoe. The sound of the two girls coming down the wooden steps from the door interrupted my doodling in the sand. This would be the real test I knew. If I couldn’t get along with the two kids I was as good as gone.
Catherine walked confidently towards me, Susan trailing behind and wandering off to climb the wooden fort attached to the swing set. They were once again dressed in matching outfits: corduroy pants, pink blouses and running shoes.
“Hi” Catherine took the swing next to me “So what do you think?” she asked.
“About what,” I asked, confused.
“My mother, she’s a real piece of work isn’t she?” She said pushing off the ground with her feet.
“I am telling you said that,” came a cry from beneath the canvas roof above us.
“Go ahead, I dare you.” Catherine responded, the threat clear in her voice.
Now I was really confused and waited in silence, starting at the sand at my feet, unsure of what was going on.
“It’s okay, you can tell me. I think she sucks too.” Catherine turned her attention back to me, her voice growing in volume as she swung by me.
“She seems nice” I said quietly.
“Pfftt, no she doesn’t” Catherine spat,”she is an uppity freak who needs to learn to relax.”
I was left with no way to respond. In truth I found Margaret a bit odd so far but no weirder than many of the other caregivers I had in the past. I certainly wouldn’t term her a freak.
“So how old are you?” I changed the subject.
“Sixteen and ‘the Trog’ over there is twelve” She indicated her sister who was hanging upside down on a bar. “So do you have a boyfriend? I do, his name is Mark and he’s awesome but I only get to see him at school and Mom would freak if she found out. He doesn’t go to my school though. Ours is an all girls school and it sucks but he comes to school and picks me up in his car”
I looked at Susan, alarmed that Catherine appeared to be bearing her soul in front of witnesses.
“Don’t worry, she won’t tell, she is far too afraid of death. Aren’t you Trog?” Susan ignored her sister’s taunts.
“So how did you end up a foster kid anyway?” Catherine asked.
“It’s a long story,” I hated questions like that and hoped the subject would get dropped although I knew that was probably not going to be the case.
“I have time.” She replied.
“Mom said we weren’t supposed to ask her stuff like that Catherine” Susan intercepted from her perch on top a pile of tires.
Thank you Susan.
“Shut Up Trog”
Damn.
“So, spill,” Catherine turned back to me.
“Why do you call her ‘Trog’?” I asked, desperate for a subject change.
“Cause she‘s a cross between a toad and a frog” came the matter-of-fact reply. Then there was an awkward silence for a little while. The chains of the swings squealing as Catherine swung high and I moved slightly, pivoting on my toes.
“So you’re like a homeless person right? No one wants you that’s why you’re here?” Catherine asked.
“Sort of.”
“So do you go to school?” Catherine asked.
“No, not usually. Sometimes. I am registered at Sam. Jr. but it’s pretty far away so I don’t go often”
“Can’t you like bus or something?”
“Ya, probably. It would just take a long time. It’s pretty boring anyway” And in truth it was. Even when I had lived nearby I only ever went to the classes I liked so what’s the point.
“So you are a dropout then? What do you do all day? What are you going to do when you grow up? How are you even going to get a job without school?” a barrage of questions assaulted me.
“Didn’t you just say your boyfriend picked you up from school?” I said with a hint of challenge in my voice,” So you’re missing school too but it’s okay for you?”
“Well I go to a private school. You have to be smart to get in so all I need to do is graduate and I can get a great job. I don’t even need to try. I could barely pass and still turn out better than you being a drop out.”
“You don’t need to be smart to get in, you need to be rich, and you need more than a piece of paper to get you a good job” I answered her although I knew she was probably right.
“So what do you do all day then? Are you one of those street kids? Do you like rob people or something? Why doesn’t anyone want you? What’s wrong with you?” I knew she wouldn’t drop the subject that easily.
“I don’t do anything all day” I said.
“Nothing? How do you get clothes and stuff” She looked slightly disgusted with my now day old wardrobe.
“The government buys it all”
“Cool”
“No, actually it’s not”
“How could that not be cool?” She asked, incredulous, “you do what you want; they buy you what you want. You don’t have to go to school? The Government is rich. I’d love to have that as my parents. That would be cool”
“Ya, and I don’t have a home, or a family, or friends most of the time cause I move so much and they don’t buy whatever I want I get an allowance. It’s not cool, it sucks” I replied. I never understood why people thought my life was so great.
“Whatever. You just haven’t learned to use it yet.” She shot back, getting off her swing with a graceful leap and heading back to the house.
“Don’t mind her” Susan said. I flinched at the sound, “She’s just mad because she can’t see her friends and her boyfriend when she is at home. Mom doesn’t even know she has a boyfriend.”
“Why not?”
“Because Mom won’t let her. It’s against the rules. That’s why she hates Mom so much I think” Susan watched the door to the house close behind Catherine’s retreating frame. “So do you like your room?” She turned back to me.
“Ya, it’s nice.”
“That’s good. Mom was really worried that you wouldn’t like it. We just did all that on the weekend you know, when we heard you were coming. She wanted it to be pretty because you’re a girl.”
“How did you know I was coming?” I hadn’t even known I was coming and it irritated me to know everyone else knew what was going on in my life so much better than I did.
“I don’t know,” She answered.” Mom just said we had a girl coming to live with us and we had to get the extra room pretty for you. So we did. Well me and Mom did, Catherine just watched. That cat picture is out of my room you know, I thought you would like it. I have one just like it except the kitten’s are playing with a ball and not just sitting there.”
“It’s cute.” I said, not wanting to hurt her feelings.
“So do you really not go to school? Don’t you miss it. I like school. I’d rather be at school than home sometimes.” She sat in the empty swing her sister had left.
“No, not really. Sometimes I guess. You kinda get used to it when you don’t go for a while. So what do you do all day besides school?”
“Mom has us on a schedule because she says that is good for us so we do the same thing all the time during school days. On weekends we do lots of different things. Like this weekend we went shopping for stuff for your room.”
Our conversation was interrupted by Margaret calling out the door for us to come in for dinner. I followed Susan into the house and into the bathroom to wash our hands for dinner.
The table in the kitchen was set and the middle sported a steaming casserole dish of something covered in cheese that smelled heavenly. Margaret motioned me to take the same seat I had sat in earlier in the day, across from her own seat with the girls on either side.
“Salad?” Margaret asked holding the salad tongs.
“Yes please.” And she placed some neatly on my plate before returning the tongs to the salad bowl and picking up the spoon next to the casserole dish.
“Lasagne?” she asked.
“Yes please.” I nodded, noticing the other girls were serving themselves.
“Milk?” she picked up the jug of milk from the table.“Yes please.”
Catherine snorted.
“Catherine. That’s enough.” Margaret said sternly, the tension in the room mounted considerably. Susan and I exchanged glances.
“She isn’t a baby Mother” Catherine, disgust obvious in her voice.
I could feel the burn of my cheeks.
)
