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"Hey, Peyton? Did you hand in your permission slip for the field trip?" Spencer asked me as we walked home. It was already October, the second month of 11th grade. Spencer had been my best friend since . . . possibly kindergarten. Hell, by now I couldn't even remember.
"Uhh . . no." I shook my head. There was this field trip to the Smithsonian in D.C. sometime this month that the whole school was going to. I was really looking forward to it, but I never handed things in on time.
"Peyton?" Spencer asked again, and stopped walking. She twirled a lock of brown hair around her finger. She always does that when she's nervous.
"What?"
"The . . the field trip? It's, uh, it's tomorrow."
"Holy shit." I stopped walking too to look back at her and squinted my eyes against the sun. It was an abnormally warm day.
I paused for a minute.
"Can I still go?"
"Well, uh, I don't know." Spencer shrugged.
"Damnit," I grumbled. "You know what? I'll just run back to the school."
"But it's, like, 10 blocks." Spencer said.
"Oh well," I started to walk back in the opposite direction.
"Hey, what about the signature? You need a parent to sign it." Spencer said.
I froze.
"Parent?" I looked back slowly at her.
"O-oh, sorry Peyton. I, uh, I d-din't mean . . . you know . . . " Spencer looked away and started twirling hair around her finger again.
I didn't really have parents. I was adopted when I was 5 and taken in with my little sister Sutton, who was 3. My adoptive parents Miranda and Ben were . . just that, adoptive parents, and I had two litte adoptive brothers Denis and David. They were 9, and hell were they crazy. But I don't like to talk about it anyways.
"It's fine." I shrugged. "I'll just write it."
"But that's illeg-"
"I know," I snapped and started walking to the school. It took me half an hour to get back to school, partcially becaus I was dragging my feet the whole way. About halfway there, I tripped on my shoelace. I flung my arms out in an attempt to break my fall, but I slid forwards and cut my palms on the ashfault. The contents of my bag threw itself up on the sidewalk and scattered everywhere.
"Aw, fuck!" I groaned out loud. "And you, you bastard! Screw you!" I yelled at my shoelace.
"That's not the way young ladies should talk." An old man across the street called. His face was all scrunched up with wrinkles and stuff and I felt the need to roll my eyes again.
"Well, sorry. I'm a little cranky when I'm on the rag, you know?!" I yelled back as I sat up and started scooping things back in my bag. The old man looked shocked, and then disgusted as he walked back into his house.
I grumbled profanities to myself as I gathered all my things and shoved them into my bag. I moved my legs out from under me and discovered that the knee of my favorite pair of skinny jeans had been ripped and torn.
Oh, for the love of God.
I stood back up and looked around. The school seemed so far away, and I knew I was just wasting time by thinking about it. Even a stupid bike would be faster then this. Actually, a bike didn't sound so bad right now. I really liked riding my bike, but I was trying to do a wheelie last week and busted the chain. Ben was currently trying to fix it. Even though it was super easy and I knew I could on my own, he insisted.
A loud rattling noise caught my attention. I whipped my head around, trying to find it, when my eyes landed on a bike. It was chained up to a metal fence like it was supposed to be, except, it was . . . it was moving. Like, rattling against the fence and pulling on the chain. I blinked my eyes and shook my head before staring again. This wasn't possible. Bikes can't move on their own, can they?
I shook my head again and blamed it on falling. I must have whacked my head and not even have noticed.
I was freaked out, so I walked quicker than usual to the school. I pulled out the permission form from my backpack and a pen. I scrawled Ben's name on the line and shoved the pen back into my bag. I walked through the school's front doors and a wave of cold air hit me. The school smelt like leftover burgers and gym socks - not much else you can expect, hey? I took a right down the hall into the front office and dropped my permission slip on the desk.
As I walked home, I made sure to take a different route home. I wasn't goint near that bike again. As I walked through the backdoor and into the kitchen, Miranda came storming up to me, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pulled into a tight line.
"Peyton Renolds! How dare you walk in the door at a quarter to six!" she scolded, a wooden spoon in her hand.
I cocked an eyebrow. "Are you going to hit me with that?"
A snort caught my attention. I turned my head to glare at Sutton, who was sitting at the kitchen table with Ben, David and Denis. Their plates were untouched, but filled with spaghetti and salad and meatballs.
"This isn't funny, Sutton." Miranda turned to her. "You should be minding your own business."
"Don't talk to her like that." I stood up straighter and looked Miranda in the eye.
"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Miranda exclaimed. Anger and fury clouded her eyes.
"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to shout out the string of swear words in my mind.
"Go to your room. I don't want you around while we try to eat our supper." Miranda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"So you're going to starve me?" I let out a laugh.
"You can eat later. Go on, I don't even want to look at you right now." she pointed in the direction of the hallway and I glared at her. I didn't bother taking off my shoes as I walking through the kitchen, down the hall and into the bedroom Sutton and I shared. I slammed the door and dumped my bag on the floor.
I crawled to the center of the floor where a thick, fluffy blue rug sat. Underneath that was a loose plank in the hardwood. After making sure everyone was seated at dining table, I shut the door and got down on my hands and knees again. I pulled the plank up and tossed it aside as quietly as I could. After reaching through the cobwebs and dust, I found the wooden box Sutton and I had hidden away ever since we'd been adopted by Miranda and Ben – which had been when we were 5 and 7. The box itself was special to my sister and I. Though it was dusty and scratched, it was our treasure that no one knew about except us. When we'd been at the orphanage, a package was delivered to us. It was from our mother. It meant that my mother was still alive, and that was the reason I put up with Miranda's shit every single fucking day. After stroking the S and P etched into the top of the wood on the lid, I slowly opened the box. Inside were two emerald necklaces; one for me, one for my sister. There were birth certificates, a few ratted pictures that were so faded, you could barely see what they were anymore, and a note from Mom.

Peyton and Sutton,

I understand that you may be angry with me for giving you girls up, and I don't blame you for that. I will come back for you girls some day, I promise. And while that promise might now be enough, it's all I have. This is for the best. I can't tell you why I sent you girls to the orphanage, but you must know that I love you both so much.

Mom

I quickly refolded the note so I wouldn't ruin it with my tears. After putting the box, plank and carpet back where they were supposed to be, I curled up on my bed. No matter what her reasons were, I'd never hate Mom. The door creaked and I shot up, rubbing my eyes to make sure it didn't look like I was having a pity party for myself. Sutton stepped into the room, carrying her backpack, which she'd probably left on the floor again. Miranda most likely freaked out about it – as usual. Sutton quietly shut the door behind her. "You were looking at the note again." Sutton said it more like a statement than a question. I stared at her and she shrugged. "Your expression is always the same after you read it."
"It's a little creepy that you watch my expressions so closely." I said. Just then, my stomach gurgled, and I rolled my eyes. Who knew when Miranda would approve of my being out in the open in front of her again? God forbid I disobey the great Miranda by walking where she could see me.
Sutton stepped forward and opened her backpack to show me a Tupperware container of spaghetti and meatballs. "I'm lucky she didn't catch me. She gave me suspicious looks when I suggested I do the dishes and everyone else go watch Family Guy. Soon they forgot I was even there. Nothing like a little Peter Griffin to make your family forget you exist." Sutton rolled her green eyes. She tossed the container and a fork at me and shoved her bag under her bed. Did I say Sutton was annoying? Did I forget to mention she's also the best sister in the entire world?
"Thanks, Sutton." I smiled at her. She shrugged and leapt up onto her bed.
"Ever wonder why Miranda adopted us in the first place?"
"All the time. Maybe she wanted to make David and Denis jealous. Then when they saw how bad she treated us, they would love her more? Fuck, I don't even care anymore. As soon as I have enough to rent an apartment, we're fucking leaving." I shoved a forkful of pasta into my mouth. Obviously, Ben had been the one cooking tonight. Miranda's spaghetti tasted like cow shit.
"You'd better get a job then." Sutton shot me a ghost of a smile, pulled out a book and lay back against her headboard. I watched her read and wondered what, exactly, it would take to get out of this hell hole.

Description
"Hey, Peyton? Did you hand in your permission slip for the field trip?" Spencer asked me as we walked home. It was already October, the second month of 11th grade. Spencer had been my best friend since . . . possibly kindergarten. Hell, by now I couldn't even remember.
"Uhh . . no." I shook my head. There was this field trip to the Smithsonian in D.C. sometime this month that the whole school was going to. I was really looking forward to it, but I never handed things in on time.
"Peyton?" Spencer asked again, and stopped walking. She twirled a lock of brown hair around her finger. She always does that when she's nervous.
"What?"
"The . . the field trip? It's, uh, it's tomorrow."
"Holy shit." I stopped walking too to look back at her and squinted my eyes against the sun. It was an abnormally warm day.
I paused for a minute.
"Can I still go?"
"Well, uh, I don't know." Spencer shrugged.
"Damnit," I grumbled. "You know what? I'll just run back to the school."
"But it's, like, 10 blocks." Spencer said.
"Oh well," I started to walk back in the opposite direction.
"Hey, what about the signature? You need a parent to sign it." Spencer said.
I froze.
"Parent?" I looked back slowly at her.
"O-oh, sorry Peyton. I, uh, I d-din't mean . . . you know . . . " Spencer looked away and started twirling hair around her finger again.
I didn't really have parents. I was adopted when I was 5 and taken in with my little sister Sutton, who was 3. My adoptive parents Miranda and Ben were . . just that, adoptive parents, and I had two litte adoptive brothers Denis and David. They were 9, and hell were they crazy. But I don't like to talk about it anyways.
"It's fine." I shrugged. "I'll just write it."
"But that's illeg-"
"I know," I snapped and started walking to the school. It took me half an hour to get back to school, partcially becaus I was dragging my feet the whole way. About halfway there, I tripped on my shoelace. I flung my arms out in an attempt to break my fall, but I slid forwards and cut my palms on the ashfault. The contents of my bag threw itself up on the sidewalk and scattered everywhere.
"Aw, fuck!" I groaned out loud. "And you, you bastard! Screw you!" I yelled at my shoelace.
"That's not the way young ladies should talk." An old man across the street called. His face was all scrunched up with wrinkles and stuff and I felt the need to roll my eyes again.
"Well, sorry. I'm a little cranky when I'm on the rag, you know?!" I yelled back as I sat up and started scooping things back in my bag. The old man looked shocked, and then disgusted as he walked back into his house.
I grumbled profanities to myself as I gathered all my things and shoved them into my bag. I moved my legs out from under me and discovered that the knee of my favorite pair of skinny jeans had been ripped and torn.
Oh, for the love of God.
I stood back up and looked around. The school seemed so far away, and I knew I was just wasting time by thinking about it. Even a stupid bike would be faster then this. Actually, a bike didn't sound so bad right now. I really liked riding my bike, but I was trying to do a wheelie last week and busted the chain. Ben was currently trying to fix it. Even though it was super easy and I knew I could on my own, he insisted.
A loud rattling noise caught my attention. I whipped my head around, trying to find it, when my eyes landed on a bike. It was chained up to a metal fence like it was supposed to be, except, it was . . . it was moving. Like, rattling against the fence and pulling on the chain. I blinked my eyes and shook my head before staring again. This wasn't possible. Bikes can't move on their own, can they?
I shook my head again and blamed it on falling. I must have whacked my head and not even have noticed.
I was freaked out, so I walked quicker than usual to the school. I pulled out the permission form from my backpack and a pen. I scrawled Ben's name on the line and shoved the pen back into my bag. I walked through the school's front doors and a wave of cold air hit me. The school smelt like leftover burgers and gym socks - not much else you can expect, hey? I took a right down the hall into the front office and dropped my permission slip on the desk.
As I walked home, I made sure to take a different route home. I wasn't goint near that bike again. As I walked through the backdoor and into the kitchen, Miranda came storming up to me, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pulled into a tight line.
"Peyton Renolds! How dare you walk in the door at a quarter to six!" she scolded, a wooden spoon in her hand.
I cocked an eyebrow. "Are you going to hit me with that?"
A snort caught my attention. I turned my head to glare at Sutton, who was sitting at the kitchen table with Ben, David and Denis. Their plates were untouched, but filled with spaghetti and salad and meatballs.
"This isn't funny, Sutton." Miranda turned to her. "You should be minding your own business."
"Don't talk to her like that." I stood up straighter and looked Miranda in the eye.
"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Miranda exclaimed. Anger and fury clouded her eyes.
"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes and resisted the urge to shout out the string of swear words in my mind.
"Go to your room. I don't want you around while we try to eat our supper." Miranda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"So you're going to starve me?" I let out a laugh.
"You can eat later. Go on, I don't even want to look at you right now." she pointed in the direction of the hallway and I glared at her. I didn't bother taking off my shoes as I walking through the kitchen, down the hall and into the bedroom Sutton and I shared. I slammed the door and dumped my bag on the floor.
I crawled to the center of the floor where a thick, fluffy blue rug sat. Underneath that was a loose plank in the hardwood. After making sure everyone was seated at dining table, I shut the door and got down on my hands and knees again. I pulled the plank up and tossed it aside as quietly as I could. After reaching through the cobwebs and dust, I found the wooden box Sutton and I had hidden away ever since we'd been adopted by Miranda and Ben – which had been when we were 5 and 7. The box itself was special to my sister and I. Though it was dusty and scratched, it was our treasure that no one knew about except us. When we'd been at the orphanage, a package was delivered to us. It was from our mother. It meant that my mother was still alive, and that was the reason I put up with Miranda's shit every single fucking day. After stroking the S and P etched into the top of the wood on the lid, I slowly opened the box. Inside were two emerald necklaces; one for me, one for my sister. There were birth certificates, a few ratted pictures that were so faded, you could barely see what they were anymore, and a note from Mom.

Peyton and Sutton,

I understand that you may be angry with me for giving you girls up, and I don't blame you for that. I will come back for you girls some day, I promise. And while that promise might now be enough, it's all I have. This is for the best. I can't tell you why I sent you girls to the orphanage, but you must know that I love you both so much.

Mom

I quickly refolded the note so I wouldn't ruin it with my tears. After putting the box, plank and carpet back where they were supposed to be, I curled up on my bed. No matter what her reasons were, I'd never hate Mom. The door creaked and I shot up, rubbing my eyes to make sure it didn't look like I was having a pity party for myself. Sutton stepped into the room, carrying her backpack, which she'd probably left on the floor again. Miranda most likely freaked out about it – as usual. Sutton quietly shut the door behind her. "You were looking at the note again." Sutton said it more like a statement than a question. I stared at her and she shrugged. "Your expression is always the same after you read it."
"It's a little creepy that you watch my expressions so closely." I said. Just then, my stomach gurgled, and I rolled my eyes. Who knew when Miranda would approve of my being out in the open in front of her again? God forbid I disobey the great Miranda by walking where she could see me.
Sutton stepped forward and opened her backpack to show me a Tupperware container of spaghetti and meatballs. "I'm lucky she didn't catch me. She gave me suspicious looks when I suggested I do the dishes and everyone else go watch Family Guy. Soon they forgot I was even there. Nothing like a little Peter Griffin to make your family forget you exist." Sutton rolled her green eyes. She tossed the container and a fork at me and shoved her bag under her bed. Did I say Sutton was annoying? Did I forget to mention she's also the best sister in the entire world?
"Thanks, Sutton." I smiled at her. She shrugged and leapt up onto her bed.
"Ever wonder why Miranda adopted us in the first place?"
"All the time. Maybe she wanted to make David and Denis jealous. Then when they saw how bad she treated us, they would love her more? Fuck, I don't even care anymore. As soon as I have enough to rent an apartment, we're fucking leaving." I shoved a forkful of pasta into my mouth. Obviously, Ben had been the one cooking tonight. Miranda's spaghetti tasted like cow shit.
"You'd better get a job then." Sutton shot me a ghost of a smile, pulled out a book and lay back against her headboard. I watched her read and wondered what, exactly, it would take to get out of this hell hole.