The Foster Child (Dreamer & Jeccka)

"No, take a seat. We don't need any place settings for sandwiches." Nettle's mother picked up the plates and began setting them down on the table in front of each of them before taking her own seat. Nettle's father returned with four soda bottles, two in each hand. He set them down in center of the table before taking his seat.


Nettle pulled out her chair and brushed her hands under her dress before she sat down so it didn't rise up. She watched Chase offer to help and took note that he paid attention to what she said and believed her in case that came in handy. "Thank you" she gratefully responded to the plate with a sandwich and chips that was placed in front of her. She waited until everyone had their food in front of them before picking up her sandwich and taking a bite.
 
Chase nodded and took his seat opposite Nettle. They were so nice as to place their meal before them and he smiled at the service. "Thank you." He too waited until everyone had taken a seat and received their food. Then the other three picked up their sandwich and he followed suit. Other families had said prayers and he was always weary of family rituals. Now he said one to himself, in his head as he took his first bite. The bread was soft and the ingredients tasted good together. "It's good." Chase approved, having finished his first taste. He glanced at the others, looking for some sort of conversation. Reaching for the soda bottle before him, Chase opened the beverage with a loud pop. It also tasted good in his lips and the carbonation stung his nose but only a little. Next he went to try the chips, having a taste of everything. Those were good as well and he hoped that all meals were as good as this one.
 
Nettle chewed slowly swallowing the bite before taking another. She liked to eat things one at a time. She preferred not the mix her foods. She looked over at her father who began to ask a question. "So, Chase how are you settling in?" If Nettle had been allowed to roll her eyes, she would have. He had probably heard that question every first day of moving in with a new foster family. It wasn't a good question either. How were you supposed to answer it honestly. It invited a vague response that would lead nowhere. She looked at Chase anyways waiting for his response.
 
Chase swallowed his bite, keeping eye contact with Mr. Primp. "Well. You have a nice place here." He paused. "Thank you for taking me in." He added, looking around the table at everyone else. It wasn't really a matter of how nice the place was but the character of the people. This was by far the quietest house he'd ever been in and some of the most proper parents, save for Mrs. Primp who seemed to have some life still in her. Finished with his sandwich, Chase started on his chips.
 
Nettle looked down at her plate and watched a crimson drop fall onto the white surface. She quickly picked up her napkin covering her nose with the cloth. "I have to go to the bathroom." she stated quickly before standing up and rushing up the stairs without waiting for a reaction. Her footsteps could be heard retreating up the stairs and then the bathroom door shut. Nettle's mother coughed kicking Nettle's father under the table. He dropped his sandwich before pushing back his chair and standing up. He placed the chair back against the table and followed Nettle up the stairs.


Nettle's mother stood up and began picking up the half eaten lunches. "Go ahead and finish your lunch in your room. I'll clean up here." She carried the plates into the kitchen deciding it wasn't worth it to try and carry on the meal.
 
Chase expected that Nettle was having a simple nose bleed, that she could take care of it herself, that's what anyone else would do. However it became more and more of a seemingly drastic situation as Mrs. Primp treated it as though normalcy was no longer possible. Chase stood with confusion written on his face, watching Mrs. Primp. "Is everything going to be alright? I mean, is Nettle okay?" Suddenly Chase wondered if it was just a nose bleed and her parents were severely overreacting. He pushed in his chair similar to the way Mr. Primp had and picked up his plate, his feet staying in place.
 
Nettle's Mother turned back to Chase. "Didn't I just ask you to do something?" she replied a bit irritated, not answering his question. She turned back to the sink scrubbing the plates clean.


Nettle sat on the bathroom floor stuffing another towel under her nose. She handed the bloodied one to her father who rung it out in the sink. "Is it stopping?" he asked. Nettle didn't answer and let the cloth collect the blood dripping out her nose. She heard the water turn off and he bent down adjusting the towel for her. He brushed her hair behind her shoulders keeping it from getting in the way.
 
Chase raised his eye brows and looked to his plate, resisting the urge to say anything more. Mrs. Primp had seemed like the nicer one... He left the room without another word, climbing up the stairs the way Nettle had, followed by her father. Walking to his new room, he cast a wondering glance toward the bathroom. It was just a nose bleed, right?


Chase sat on the foot of the bed, being careful not to get any crumbs on anything but the plate he brought with him. Once he was finished with the handful of chips he had been given, he tossed his suitcase on the bed and unzipped it. A flood of his clothes nearly jumped out at him and he methodically began putting everything in its place in the wardrobe he was being loaned.
 
Nettle's Father's muffled voice comes through the bathroom door. "Are you sure it stopped?"


"Yeah"


"Do you feel light headed?"


"Da, I'm fine."


"Don't lie to me."


"I'm not. I'm really fine."


"Okay. I'll clean it up."


The door opened to the bathroom and Nettle stepped out closing the door behind her. She walked into her room and looked up at Chase remembering they shared a room. She stood frozen for a moment. The flesh around her nose was strained red as were her sleeves as well as splatters on the top of her dress. She ducked her head walked into her side of the room and shut the curtain quickly behind her.
 
Chase didn't need to look as Nettle entered the room, he knew it was her even as he continued to sort his clothes. It was then that he figured the curtain separating the two halves of the room was necessary. "How often do you get those?" He asked, refolding a sweatshirt that had haphazardly become wrinkled in his bag. There was almost nothing left to be put away from the pile of possessions that Chase had amassed over the years and stuff into his suitcase. It wasn't until he hung the last coat and neatly placed the last pair of shoes that he sat on the edge of his bed, pleased to be finished. Glancing at the curtain, he listened to the sounds of Nettle just beyond the material. His phone was still buzzing with messages and he took to deleting the numbers of those he was no longer going to keep in his life, save for a person or two he knew wasn't trying to stay emotionally involved.
 
Nettle looked up at the Curtain when he asked his question. "More recently then I used too." she answered changing into a clean outfit. She pulled on a floral shirt and a skirt that reached past her knees. She through the bloodied dress in the trash deciding it wasn't worth the cleaning. "Maybe a few times a month" she estimated. She opened a drawer pulling out a box of crackers and sat on the side of her bed eating slowly. "It wasn't bad this time."
 
Chase heard the unmistakable sound of plastic on Nettle's side of the room and wondered how long she had been stashing food, or whatever she had, in her room. "You're parents seem pretty worried." He said, reading a few messages and deleting more numbers. He glanced at the curtain between them, as though they could see each other through the material. Then, he looked around the room once more, looking for nothing in particular.
 
Nettle shoved the crackers back in her drawer unable to force anymore down. She laid back down on her head staring up at the ceiling. "Have you figured out why I call them ghost rooms?" she asked deciding it was best to explain one thing at a time. She rested her hands under her head trying to decide if she should open the curtain before continuing or if it was best to keep it closed.
 
At this point Chase was rather lost. He remembered the conversation about these ghost rooms but couldn't fathom the reason why these rooms went unused. "Are they haunted?" He asked plainly, taking his best guess. "Was there someone who used to use them?" Perhaps there was a sibling that had died or someone who had walked out on the family. It would be a loss all the same. Again he looked at the curtain as though he could see through it straight to Nettle herself.
 
Nettle shook her head "They aren't haunted. Someone did use to use them. Well two someones." she replied staring up at the ceiling. "My parents are afraid this will become another ghost room." She sighed and stood up opening the curtain. "Sorry I didn't mean to make it all depressing." She apologized.
 
Realization hit Chase square in the chest. Nettle appeared before him, more fragile and innocent. He looked upon her with new eyes, new respect. There were still questions begging to be asked though he held them all at bay. "I'm sure you will be fine." He said, for lack of something better to say. He had no grounds to say for certain that Nettle was going to be a different case, that she would survive what her siblings couldn't. The afternoon was beginning to make sense; the ghost rooms, lunch, Mrs. Primp, everything.
 
Nettle shook her head "No, you aren't going to start treating me like they do." she protested. "like I will break into a million pieces at any second." She rubbed her nose and leaned against the wall folding her arms across her chest. "You weren't supposed to find out. You were supposed to be the one person who didn't pity me." She had seen the expression he was giving her many times. She hated the phrase-'everything is going to be okay'. It was only used when there was nothing else to say. It was a lie that no one believed, but wanted to hear.
 
Chase nodded his understanding, still sitting idling on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hands. "I understand." He said, trying to change whatever expression of bewilderment had been on his face. Then, he turned back to his phone, deleting numbers as though Nettle hadn't told him something that would forever change the way he thought about her. Just then Mr. Primp opened the bathroom door and, hearing his footsteps down the hall, poked his head in the room - probably to check on Nettle. Chase now understood the Primps, if only a little bit better, and reminded himself that he had to act, to pretend. It was either going to be really fun or really difficult.
 
Nettle watched Chase return to his phone as if nothing happened. She wasn't sure if he just didn't care about what had occurred or was actually listening to her words. No one had actually listened to her before. One you knew there was no unknowing. Nettle looked up seeing her father's face in the door. "I'm fine. I'm really fine." she complained. "Oh and he's fine too, in case you were wondering." she added gesturing toward Chase.
 
At the sound of his name, Chase looked up at Nettle then over to her father with a simple, innocent smile. Mr. Primp disappeared, leaving a short, irritated grunt echoing off the walls. Chase set down his phone and laid back on the bed, his arms across his chest, staring at the ceiling. "What do you do for fun? At times likes these?" He asked aloud, watching Nettle's figure out of the corner of his eye.
 
Nettle walked over to Chase, sitting down at the edge of the bed. "Well normally I would read or draw or something of the sort, but I have a better idea." she smiled "let's play a game. Here's the rules. First you ask me a question and I have to answer honestly and then I ask you a question and you have to answer honestly and then..well you get the idea." She thought it might be a good way to get both their questions answers.
 
Chase tucked his hands comfortably behind his head. "The question game. That's a good one." He said with approval, rolling his head to the side to look at Nettle as she sat beside him. "We'll start easy." He suggested, looking back to the ceiling. "What is your favorite color?" It was a seriously over used question though it could be useful, what if her birthday was coming up? Sometimes these simple facts needed to be known.
 
Nettle smiled at his question finding it a waste of a turn. "Brown" she answered "Like the trunk of a tree. It's a sturdy color that goes with every other color, but it's not as loved." She thought over what to ask him taking her time. "How many foster homes have you been in?" she asked curiously. She actually wanted to know where her home ranked on the scale, but it would be nice to know how many homes she was comparing herself to.
 
Chase thought for a moment, counting quickly. "This my fourth." He said, still laying back on the bed. Chase wanted so badly to ask Nettle more questions about her sickness and the ghost rooms but was having trouble finding the right question to ask. "Why do you get the nosebleeds?" He asked.
 
Nettle shrugged "I don't know. It has something to do with things shutting down. Blood just seems to be associated with death, like when you stab someone and they bleed from their mouth. I never bothered to ask." She paused and looked down stumbling over the last few words "I don't like knowing how bad it is." She answered as best she could. She changed her tone quickly as she asked her question "Is this place the worst one yet?"
 
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