Chapter 19
Cold air galloped through the open car windows, lashing Adriana’s hairs against her face.
Beside her sat Cindy, a blank look fixed in her eyes. Her parents were in the front seats, unconcerned that their open windows hammered coldness into two children’s hearts.
Cindy began mumbling rapidly to no one in particular, swatting the air with her hands as though mosquitoes buzzed around her head. She had a crazed look in her eyes, full of tight energy that could burst.
A minute later, the girl appeared dazed again, rigidly sitting straight, her head still as stone. All the time, her wooden box was held tightly between her thighs.
Emptiness ate at Adriana’s chest. Although the scenery was beautiful—dry riverbeds chasing alongside the road, rolling hills reaching higher into the sky, crows darting and jumping in the air—she felt so very alone.
Who would know where they had gone? Who would make sure they were well fed, got enough sleep, and were properly cared for? These adults seemed to be the opposite of caring. As they laughed between themselves, Adriana's heart ached deeper. Their laughter did not include her. It sprung from selfishness, sounding familiar to the kids’ laughter at school who found teasing her entertaining.
Underneath large trees that allowed dabbles of sunlight through, the car slowed. Up the dirt road several mobile homes appeared abandoned. They were rusty in spots, the curtains in the windows yellowed, holey and torn.
They stopped beside the second.
She didn’t want to be here. There didn’t seem to be anyone else around. How were she and Cindy going to get back to the foster home?
Watching Mary and Joe get out and open the back doors, she started to breathe faster. Mary yanked her out by the arm, not bothering to offer her the crutches from the car floor, dragging her across the gravel as she tried to hop on her right leg. The soft skin of her bare foot becoming scratched and cut, she felt like crying.
Behind her, Joe held Cindy's hand.
A large banner hung between two poles in front of the mobile homes. It read Discipline Camp. April 13—20. Great, thought Adriana, a perfect place for two kids to be stranded for a week.
The mobile home was bigger inside than it looked outside, probably connected to other mobile homes. They went down a long hall, which had five other doors. At the end, was a single room with a small living and dining area, a kitchenette, and a bathroom. A man rose from the booth, eyes squinting. He had a scraggly beard, bushy brown eyebrows, and thick circular glasses with scratched lenses dotted with white specks of dandruff. “So these are the girls, huh?”
“We’ve tried our best with our daughter, but she won’t behave,” Mary complained.
“She just doesn’t get it,” whined Joe, shaking the bearded man’s hand. “We’re very pleased you could help, Hank.”
“Helping you helps us all. We need Cindy. She’s a powerful, lovely girl.” Hank’s sun splotched hands held Cindy’s smooth face, and she cringed out of her daze and pushed his hands away.
His arm pulled back like a tightening spring, hand squeezed into a ball, and he shot it into her head. She crumpled onto the ground like a rag doll.
Adriana screamed.
“We’ve tried the physical stuff. It hasn’t gotten anywhere. We need your expertise.”
“She is stubborn, isn’t she?” Hank ran his fingers through his beard, and some crumbs and other particles dribbled out. “There is strength in numbers. Together we can break her.”
Cindy was on the floor, her arms around her head, knees drawn against her chest, shaking.
It was shocking to Adriana how nobody paid attention to children’s feelings around here. It was like children didn't matter. She continued to scream, but louder.
Mary scratched her nose. “We’ve done what we’ve been taught about proper discipline, but it just hasn’t worked.”
“You and Joe aren’t at fault. You can’t expect to tame such a child alone.” Hank went to Adriana and punched her in the mouth, silencing her and causing a tooth to feel loose. She cried quietly.
“What if even together we fail?”
“Won’t happen.” Hank explained, “Everyone has a breaking point. First thing all parents should know is that children need fear. If a hand won’t bring it, the simple matter of discovering their weakness and using that is needed.”
In addition to her sore mouth, Adriana’s leg felt tired and swollen. She didn’t have her crutches to rest on like she normally would do, and she didn’t have the option of switching weight onto her other leg like two-legged people do when standing. She bent onto the couch to sit.
Hank spun around so quickly his beard curved through the air. “Who told you you can sit?” He pulled Adriana up by the hair and slammed her against the wall, sending tingles of pain through her spine. “You don’t move until we tell you.” He looked over his shoulder to Cindy’s parents. “The cripple has a wild nature about her. She is going to be fun.”
Mary blurted, “Yeah, when she’s cold and dead.”
Hank began laughing. “Like a fish.”
Adriana turned into the wall, away from these horrible people, her lip bleeding, her back aching, her tooth loose, her leg begging for rest, but her mind forcing the muscles to support her weight. She stared at the cracking gray paint and wished she were someplace else.