Stars — Cadyn Kucharczuk
The heavy wooden door to my current bedroom opens slowly and a little girl appears in the entrance. This isn’t unusual because kids constantly come in and out of these foster homes, sometimes not even staying an entire day without getting picked up by the state of Nevada again.
I looked down from the book I held tightly in my hands and at a scared little girl's face. Our foster mom, Casey, showed her into the room, “The bottom bunk will be your bed,” she said with a fake smile before looking up at me, “be nice.”
I huffed and scratched my nose with my middle finger, which Casey ignored and handed the little girl her pink bag with My Little Pony characters on it. I only know of the purple one with the pinkish-purple hair. I found her a bit annoying from the bits and pieces of the show I’ve actually seen, which isn’t many.
I went back to reading George Orwell’s 1984 for the seventh time, but soon stopped because the little girl kept sniffling. I rolled my eyes and closed my book before dangling down from the top bunk to see this girl’s face.
She looked to be about nine, her knees pulled up to her chin with her small arms wrapped around her legs. Her hair was short, only going down to about her shoulders and if it wasn’t for her curls, it’d probably be even longer.
“You have any good things in that bag?” I asked, not caring about how she seemed upset. Everyone who comes in here is upset.
“I have some candy,” she said through snotty tears.
I open her pink bag and spill what little contents she has onto the floor and find a single chocolate bar in the mess of clothes. I opened the plastic and started to eat, not having chocolate in over two years. The richness in my mouth makes me close my eyes and smile.
When I open my eyes again I sigh and give the little girl the rest of the chocolate bar. I normally wouldn’t care, but for some reason her dark brown eyes make me want to hug her. But I remind myself that I hate people so hugging her will not be happening.
“Did your dad die too?” She whispered and took a bite of her candy.
“No. Mine just didn’t care about me.”
She looked at me confused so I shook my head, “never mind.”
I climbed back up to the top bunk and the little girl was still sitting on the floor with her chocolate bar as I started to scribble drawings on the ceiling. Brown eyes, thin eyebrows, a frown, freckles across a straight nose and curly hair that flows over the side of her face, “What’s your name?” I asked and held the pencil between my fingers, hovering over the drawing.
“Astra.”
I held back my laugh and shook my head, “weird. How do you spell it?”
“How do you spell weird or how do you spell my name?”
“I’ll just guess,” I scoffed and went on to scribble her name next to her portrait that was next to all the other portraits. I’ve been here for two weeks and seven kids have already come and gone from this place.
“What’s your name?” The girl with the weird name asked.
“Your mom.”
“My mom is dead,” she said matter-of-a-factly, which angered me.
“Your sister,” I continued.
“Don’t have one.”
“Your grandma.”
“Dead.”
“Your cousin.”
“Don’t have one.”
“Your dog!”
“I don’t think she died…”
I stopped and closed my eyes, realizing that this girl is so innocently saying who died in her family as if it’s normal, and she’s only nine. I’ve been in the system for two years and two hundred sixty seven days, and I have never seen a little girl not cry over her dead parents. Either she’s crazy, or just used to it.
“I’m Lila. Not Lilac, not Lily; Lila. And if you call me anything else I will kick your ass.”
She laughed and climbed up the ladder, “no you won’t.”
I gave her a look, “watch me.”
She smiled, “your eyes are pretty.”
“Thanks. You’re pretty too, when you’re not on my bed.”
She laughs again and looks up at the scribbled ceiling, “the first home I went to had drawings on the walls. The mom was mean and made me clean them.”
“Don’t clean mine.”
She nodded and her little legs spread over mine which still had scars from the burning; the burning I didn’t do to myself.
“My dad says we are all like the stars; so far away from each other but when you step back,
we’re all in the same mess together.”
“You’re too smart to be nine,” I say and pick up my book again.
“Well, good thing I’m eleven.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit and scoot over so she had more room.
I flipped through the tattered pages of my book; one page, four pages, eleven pages. I was able to read twelve pages before Astra spoke again, “will my legs look like that when I’m older?”
I looked down at my legs with old purple scars. They aren’t as puffy as they used to be, and some even faded, but the patches are still there and kids can’t help but notice.
Usually I tell them ‘none of your business’ or better yet, ‘your mom’ which makes them cry since chances are they don’t have one. Usually I’m an ass about it, but for some reason I don’t have the strength to be one right now, “You won’t. Your dad cared about you. Mine didn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
She’s smart, she knows what I mean. She just wants me to tell her what happened to me which will not be happening,
“Your butt.”
At that she laughs so hard that she nearly falls from the bed and onto the patchy floor.
Dinner was the usual; steamed green beans, watery chicken, a glass of milk, and luckily some white bread. Usually we don’t get any bread since it’s for sandwiches. The twins, Daniel and Daren, were kicking each other from under the table and Casey tapped away at her phone. I don’t understand why they sent her two nine-year-olds. She can barely handle me.
Daniel hits Daren. Daren cries. Casey yells at Daniel. Daniel blames it on Daren. Daren starts to cry again. Daniel says sorry. Daren hits Daniel for hitting him. Casey goes back to her phone and the kicking between the two twins continues. This house is like clockwork.
Astra sits next to me at the table and picks at her mushy food, once telling Daniel to shut up which caused the twins to fight even more.
“Who’s the new stinky butt?” Daren asked Astra and suddenly took his brother’s side.
“Yeah, you’re smelly.” Daniel said and pinched his nose between his fingers.
“Daniel I swear I’ll beat your ass,” I said and kicked him from under the table.
“Language,” Casey mutters but doesn’t look up.
Daniel and Daren stick their tongues out at me. I think it’s wrong, and a bad thought to wish that the foster system will split them up, but I wish it anyway.
Astra stopped, looked up at the chaos and then out at the dark sky, “can you see the stars here?”
I shrugged and poked at my food, “we’re in a desert so probably. Eat your food.”
“My dad always lets me see the stars.”
“My dad is in the looney bin!!” Daren yelled with a smile on his face.
I’ve noticed that he watches too much Looney Toons so now he thinks the loony bin is a good thing where cartoon Rabbits hang out with people. Daniel kind of goes along with it, and even though they’re identical twins, Daniel seems to be the smarter one.
“What’s the looney bin?” Astra asks and Casey cuts in quickly, “nothing baby, eat your food.”
“How long will I be here?”
“I don’t know Astra,” Casey says, annoyed.
“How long have you been here?” Astra asks and turns towards me,
“Two weeks.”
“Did your dad die two weeks ago?”
“My dad didn’t die.”
“My dad is in the looney bin!” Daren yells yet again.
“Shut up Daren!”
“Kids, enough.” Casey said and took away our plates, “Lily, I told you to behave—.”
“Lila,” Astra corrected, and with that, Casey sent us to bed early.
I just wanted to go to bed, but Astra kept moving in the bottom bunk, causing the squeaky mattress to move every few seconds.
“Girl, go to bed,” I finally said and looked over the railing and at her.
“My dad stays with me until I fall asleep.”
“Well he’s not here anymore, is he?”
She continued to move around for a solid thirty minutes, shaking the bunk bed and making squeaking sounds. Her blankets were thrown off of her bed, then picked back up only to be thrown off yet again.
I threw back my comforter and jumped down the ladder before scooting next to Astra so she would stop moving and just go to sleep.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, her eyes already getting heavy with my back against hers.
“I’m not doing this to be nice. I just want to sleep.”
“Sure.”
I looked over at Astra, curled in a ball with her middle and ring fingers in her mouth, eyes closed and her breathing shallow. I smiled a little bit. I’ve seen a lot of kids come and go from my different homes over the years, but none quite like her. She’s so young but seems to understand too much, which only makes me think she’s been through some pretty bad stuff.
A wave of sadness suddenly washes over me, causing tears to form in my eyes. I don’t know where these tears have come from, I’ve already cried all of the tears I could possibly have over the seventeen years I’ve been alive.
Astra is going to have to leave at some point, which scares me. Sure, it's not amazing here, but it’s better than other homes. Some lock up the fridge and cabinets so you can’t get food and others have tiny bugs that crawl around your mattress on the floor, causing you to have to fight with the other kids for the ‘good’ bed. Sometimes in the winter, you have to smuggle blankets. Sometimes you get caught and smacked. Some parents even scold you for doing something as little as making too much noise.
Sure, I’ve stopped caring about people over the years; I mean, they all betray you anyways, but Astra seems different somehow. All of her hope wasn’t yet crushed by the weight of the world. I don’t know how this little girl got me to care about her, but she did, and that’s hard to do. The only person I ever cared about was my father, and he nearly killed me, leaving me with scars all over my legs and a pain I’ll have to carry around forever.
In the early morning there is a sharp knock on the front door. The twins and I look up from our breakfast of toast and soggy eggs and at the door before looking at each other. One of us is going to be sent away or another kid is being dropped off. I swallow hard as Casey walks to the door and opens it for the caseworker.
She has dark hair pulled back into a tight bun and eyes that don’t show a thing. Her face is expressionless, probably after all these years of taking kids away from their families and away from their homes.
Casey steps aside to let her in, but the woman stays firmly in place on the front porch,
“Evelyn Plaque?”
We all look at each other, confused, but then Astra stands up, “that’s me.”
“What? No!” I yelled suddenly and stood up, “you can’t take her away! She just got here last night!”
“Lilly, sit down.” Casey scolded and pointed to my chair.
I’m not Lily though, so I stay standing and I don’t listen as Casey handed the caseworker Astra’s pink bag.
“Ready to go Evelyn?” The caseworker asked and tried to fake a smile. It wasn’t a very good one.
“It’s Astra.”
The caseworker swallowed and kneeled down next to her, “where do you come up with that name?”
Astra fiddled with her fingers and the twins are now standing up, wanting to hear what she has to say.
“My dad would call me that.”
The caseworker stood up and I could see tears start to form in her eyes,
“Well, I think Evelyn is a beautiful name.”
“Well I don’t.”
The woman took her hand and started to walk her out, but I followed close behind, “you can’t just take her! Her dad died and she needs people to comfort her. She’s fine here-.”
The caseworker put Astra in the back of the black car before whipping around and staring at me. I’m a bit taller than she is, but when she looked at me, I felt a whole lot smaller.
“There are some things you don’t understand. She needs therapy and a lot of help.”
“She can stay with us—,”
“No,” she said firmly and looked back at the car, “she has been through more than any eleven year old girl should go through. You know that man she calls her father? Well, he scooped her off the street one day when she was walking home from school. He called her Astra and god knows what he did to her,”
She inhaled and then continued, “she made up this story in her mind because that is what us humans do when we go through something so awful. So please, step away from the car and let me do my job.”
I’m frozen in place. I can’t move, I can’t think. I need to think. I need to think of how I can help her so she can stay with us, with me.
Astra looked out the window and put her hand on the glass. I put my hand on the glass too, and when the car started to pull away, I ran next to it. Dust picks up into the air and gets in my eyes and my lungs, but I do not care. Nothing else matters but her.
“I’ll find you!” I yelled as the car got too fast for me to run next to anymore, causing me to fall behind, “I’ll find you!!” I scream as her little face looks out the back window.
“I’ll find you—,” I whispered and collapsed into the dust. Casey ran over to me, trying to pick me up and help me inside.
This is why I don’t get close to people. This is exactly why. I threw Casey off of me and walked back into the house that isn’t mine, the house I’ll be moved from in a matter of days or weeks, or months until I turn eighteen and am no longer Nevada’s responsibility.
Daren tried to take my hand but I flipped him off, causing him to cry. I stomp up the stairs and slam the door shut before climbing up the ladder and scribbling over all of my drawings. I scribble out all of the girl’s faces, their eyes and beautiful hair.
I picked up 1984 again and read until late in the night when Casey knocked on my door. When it opened, a new girl was standing next to her. Casey showed the girl her new room, her bed, and when she left the girl started to cry. I hide behind my book, not wanting to cry again.
Cadyn Kucharczuk is a seemingly normal high school student. She writes constantly but her writings often get overlooked by friends and family. Cadyn is sophomore and hopes to someday move to Arizona where it is warm and where cactuses grow. She currently writes stories in her free time and tries to focus on being more positive, even though there doesn’t seem to be much positivity anymore.