PROLOGUE
Matt’s eyes flew open in horror. He was suddenly surrounded by a deathly black world. Of course, his world was always black, but this was not just any black. This was the kind of blackness that reeked of pain and tasted of blood; the kind of black you always see in horror movies. Or, in Matt’s case, SAW in horror movies.
Ever since Matt was two, his father would come home from “work,” angry and drunk. Matt’s father wanted to take his pain, and force someone else to feel it. And that someone else was Matt. Then, one day, on Matt’s 7th birthday, his father came home from the bar angrier than usual. Matt sat in the corner of the small, square room as he heard his father slam the door off its hinges, screaming his son’s name. Matt knew what was to come. He quietly ran up the stairs, and dove under the bed. Matt’s father slammed up the stairs, ready to do even worse to Matt. He slammed Matt’s door open, then furiously picked up the small, wooden desk, throwing it at the bed. The desk sunk defeatedly into the bed, squishing poor Matt. Matt suddenly realized that his dad was going easy on the desk; Matt would have it much worse.
“I know you’re in here!!” screamed Matt’s dad crazily, speach slurring. Matt began to shiver, but not because of the coldness in the room.
Suddenly Matt felt a rough, wet hand crushing his ankle. Matt tried to grab the bed’s legs as his muscular father dragged him out by one leg. He felt his ankle twist unnaturally, and he yelped in pain. His father yanked him out, then threw him against the wall, breaking an empty bottle against his back. Matt cried as his head began to bleed. His father took his only book, a hardcover, and banged it against Matt’s head, causing more blood to spill. Matt screamed, for the pain was unbearable. His father whirled him around, and took a second empty beer bottle from his bag. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion, as the beer bottle moved toward his eyes. Then, everything sped up, as the bottle hit his eyes, glass flying into them. And, as the pain continued, Matt’s whole world went black.
Matt rolled over, trying to forget the terrible nightmare that was his past. He was shivering, even though it was the middle of summer. His body all of a sudden went completely numb. He was reacting; reacting to the pain he had felt ten years ago to that day. If he was numb, he couldn’t feel pain. Matt suddenly wished that his body had known that ten years ago.
A feeling of drowsiness quickly took over Matt. He pressed a button on his digital watch.
“It is two a.m., Sunday the 13th,” rasped the watch in an annoying monotone. Matt yawned, then rolled over once more.
It would be better later in the morning, he decided. It always was.
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“Happy birthday, sleepy-head!!!!!!!!!” schreeched Miranda in her still high-pitched voice. Matt opened his eyes and began to blink.
Some good that’ll do, I thought. I quickly shook that ugly thought out of my mind. It was a happy day. It was a good day for all of us.
“Miranda?” Matt smiled. Ever since we had adopted him, he had gotten really good at memorizing voices.
“Yup, yup YUP,” giggled Miranda, bouncing more furiously. She then yanked a badly wrapped package out of her purple plastic purse. She quickly thrust it at Matt, screaming “Here you go!!!!”
“Is it a gift?” asked Matt, grabbing the package and attempting to find a place to open it.
“I’ll do it!!!!” cried Miranda, snatching away the package and tearing it open. “It’s a pair of pink socks!!!” Miranda screamed, very happy with herself. “I buyed them with my own monies!!!” Miranda smiled, and began to bounce up and down.
Matt’s face broke into an even bigger smile.
“Thanks, Shortie! They’re great! And they’re really soft!” This made Miranda absolutely crazy!!!!
“I KNEW he would love them!!!!” she shrieked “I knew it, I knew it I KNEW it!!!”
“Miranda, calm down!” whispered Mrs. Brookes furiously. Miranda quieted down, and moved back so the rest of us could give him our presents. I went last, as I was one of the oldest.
“Here you go, baby bro!” I joked as I ruffled his hair and handed him his present.
“Thanks SHRIMP, but I’m your age now!” Matt said proudly as he shook the package, trying to guess what was inside.
I blushed as I remembered the embarassing nickname that our older foster brother Nick had given me. I was born with two club feet and had to have my legs amputated. Unfortunately, my parents couldn’t pay for the surgery and prosthetic legs, so they just left me at a store one day. But ever since Mrs. Brookes took me in, I have been perfectly happy, even if I am in a wheelchair. The fact that I only have two half-legs got me the nickname Shrimp.
Suddenly I realized that time hadn’t stopped just for me to look back, as Matt was in the midst of ripping open the package I had handed to him.
“An iPod!!!!!!!!!!” Matt gasped as he read the braille on the specially-made box. “How-how did you afford it??”
I shrugged, then remembered that Matt couldn’t see it. “I just saved up all of my job money.” When I saw Matt look down guiltily, I added, “I couldn’t figure out what to buy for myself, so I just made the decision easy and bought you something.” Matt looked a little less guilty as he opened the box, and felt the smooth, cold square that could hold more songs than I could name. He held it up for all of us to look at and tell him what it looked like.
“Yuck. It’s BLACK!!” grumbled Miranda. “Why couldn’t you have getted him a pretty color, like pink?”
“Miranda!” gasped Mrs. Brookes, a little angry that Miranda was being so rude. “Don’t talk like that to your older sister. And it’s gotten, not ‘getted.’” Miranda hung her head and calmed down.
“Thanks, again Tasha!” smiled Matt. “Now I don’t have to lug around that huge CD player!” We all cleared away from the bed as Matt began to get up. With the help from his bedside cane, he made his way over to the door, then out. I wheeled myself out after him, to see what he was going to do next. As he made his way out to the computer, I called out to him.
“Hey! Want some help downloading some songs?” Matt turned and smiled.
“Sure!! Thanks, sis!”
“No problem!” I said as I wheeled myself over. “Anything for my little bro!”
A few hours later, a bunch of us were sitting out on the porch, sipping lemonade and talking. At the moment, Isabel and I were talking about which boys in our school were the hottest.
“DEFINITELY Ryan Kingsley,” wooed Isabel, who was practically my other half.
“Absolutely,” I nodded as I sipped my lemonade. “But what about that cute guy who asked you out?” Isabel blushed as I reminded her of Craig, the shy, tall basketball player who had asked her out several times.
“Oh, I am SO over him,” sighed Isabel as she flipped back her curly brown hair. “Older men are SO much better.” I laughed at Isabel’s relaxed tone.
“What about you, Kel?” I asked as I turned toward my 9-year-old sister Kelly. “Whatever happened to that 5th grader who asked you out?”
“Oh, I’m WAY too sexy for him,” sighed Kelly as she attempted to imitate Isabel’s hair flip. That all set us into an intense fit of laughter.
But then, suddenly everyone got quiet. I stopped laughing as I realized that everyone else had stopped, too. Then I turned my head to where everyone else was looking and gasped.
We all watched in horror as Matt walked right into the two men carrying a coffin.
I screamed inside my head as Matt was knocked over onto the ground, and as the coffin fell on top of him.
“Oh, I’m very sorry, young man!” boomed the taller and burlier of the two men.
Matt leapt up and shook his head, not believing what he had heard.
“Da-da-DAD??!!” Matt cried, reaching out his hand.
“Matt??!!!!” gasped the man in utter disbelief. “Is it really you?” As Matt nodded his head, the big man teared up, and grabbed Matt intoa full, strong, bear-hug.
“Matty, I’ve missed you so much!” cried the man as his eyes welled up.
“Me too, dad. Me too.” Matt squeezed the man hard, as if the tighter he squeezed, the longer they would be together.
“Wow Matt,” laughed the man as he let his son go. “How’d you get so STRONG?”
Matt beamed, as this was the best compliment to get from a man as strong and buff as his dad was.
“I lift weights and stuff every day, dad,” bragged Matt proudly.
“That’s my boy!” laughed Matt’s dad as he playfully ruffled hi only son’s hair. Matt smiled, and then sighed.
“We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, dad.” The large man smiled, then nodded in agreement.
“We sure do Matt. We sure do.” Then Matt led his dad up onto the back side of the porch. A few minutes later his dad came back for the large, cool jug of lemonade and a few extra plastic cups. Once I was sure he was completely around the corner, I spoke.
“Is that his REAL dad? The man who……….” my voice trailed off, for I didn’t want to utter those horrible words.
“I-I think so,” whispered Isabel, trying to peek around the corner.
“What’d he do?” I whirled around in my chair, and found that my suspiscions were correct; the shrill, squeaky voice was coming from Miranda.
“Ummmmmm…… well, he…… he…..” I didn’t know quite what to say, so I sat her down and said, “Miranda, you know how when you’re mad, you hit me? Even if you’re not mad at ME?”
Miranda nodded. “Yeah, and I usually getted in trouble for it.”
“Right,” I nodded. “Well, Matt’s daddy did the same thing, only he never got in trouble.
Miranda’s eyes grew wide. “But Matt’s daddy is a big boy. Wouldn’t that have hurted him a lot?”
“Yeah, it did,” I replied, shaking my head sadly. “And now Matty’s blind because his daddy hit him so hard.”
All of a sudden, Miranda burst into tears. “Poor Matty!!! If his daddy’s back, will he hurt him again?”
“I-I don’t know,” I sighed. “I just don’t know.
I was sitting near the kitchen sink, washing dishes, as I heard the door shut behind me. I turned around to see Matt, a huge grin on his face, standing in the door.
“Hey,” I called, and Matt’s smile grew larger as he heard my voice.
“Hey,” he called back as his three legs made their way over. My smile disappeared as I stared at his brand-new shiny cane.
“Wh’at up with the cane?” I wondered aloud as I felt the warm, rough leather.
“Isn’t it great?” beamed Matt as he ran his hand over the cane. “My dad had it in his car, and when he saw my boring, old cane, he gave it to me.”
That made me shiver, as I again thought aloud.
“Matt, don’t you think it’s kind of…. I dunno…. ODD that your dad just HAPPENS to show up at the shelter where you are, then just HAPPENS to bump into you, and just HAPPENS to have a cane in the back of his car, all on the day of your birthday that he ‘forgot?’”
Matt frowned, and shook his head. “Nah. Although my dad was once a bad guy,” he said, pointing to the scars on his eyes as if to prove his statement. “He wouldn’t lie to me. Not now.”
“Matt, how do you KNOW?” I asked, still unsure.
“Most of our catching up was him telling me all about rehab and therapy, Tasha. Chill!!” Matt sighed.
“I know, Matty. Just-just watch out, and be careful of him,” I begged worriedly.
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“Great dinner, Carmen!” boomed Matt’s father, Jack.
“Why thank you, Mr. Reynolds,” said Mrs. Brookes proudly. “I’ve never heard anything like that from any of the kids.”
“Oh please, call me Jack,” said Mr. Reynolds. “And I’m very surprised; I thought that I had taught my boy some manners.” Mr. Reynolds looked at Matt angrily. I flinched, expecting Mr. Reynolds to beat Matt. Instead, he just smiled.
“Just joking. I was never really much of a manner’s man.” He laughed, and Matt joined him.
“So, MR. REYNOLDS,” I said. “How was the rehabilitation center? Where there lots of crazed men there?”
“Natasha!!” Mrs. Brookes yelped, obviously embarassed.
“Oh, it’s all right, Carmen. The child was only being curious,” said Jack, shrugging. “Well, young lady, we were all there for the same reason; to change. And that’s just what I did, isn’t it, Matty?” asked Jack, ruffling his son’s hair with his meaty hands.
“Sure is, Dad.” Matt smiled as he hungrily attacked his third helping of meatloaf.
It was quiet as we all chewed thoughtfully. Then, finally, Miranda spoke.
“Mr. Matt’s daddy, why did you maked Matty blind?”
We all gasped, wondering what would come next. Would Matt’s dad attack? Would Mrs. Brookes be angry? Would Matt be angry? What would happen?
After what seemed like an eternity of silence, someone finally spoke.
“I-I honestly don’t know,” sighed Matt’s dad as he looked at his hands, which were resting like the hands of the perfect student. But they didn’t. They belonged to the hands of a criminal. “I just-I guess I just wasn’t thinking.” A single tear, fat as his pinky finger, danced down Mr. Reynolds’ cheek and onto his empty plate. As I looked at Mr. Reynolds, I began to feel sorry for him. He had made a big mistake, but he had payed for it. And he was genuinely sorry. He loved Matt, and Matt loved him. So why was I being so mean to him?
“Miranda, lets go to your room and play Barbies, OK?” I asked, trying to break the akward silence that had formed. I looked over to see Mr. Reynolds wiping his eyes, and smiling at Matt. I had saved him from embarrassment, and I had saved myself from being an even worse person than I already was.
“YEAH!!!” screamed Miranda, as she jumped up from the table. “I call Princess Phoebe, Maddie, Sarah, Meaghan, Kasey the Vet……” I tuned out as Miranda called out all of the Barbies that I wasn’t allowed to play with. I had to think of some way to prove to Mr. Reynolds-and, Matt, for that matter-that I trusted him.
“……and Edna The Destroyer Of All Things Good. You can have all the other ones.”
“OK, thanks,” I said as I wheeled my way over to the sink to put my plate down. “Mrs. B, I’ll do the dishes later.”
Mrs. Brookes looked extremely grateful.
“Oh, of course, of course. Thank you, sweetie.”
I wheeled myself into Miranda’s room, watching as the small girl with long, silky black hair bounced in front of me. How wonderful it would be to walk again. I loathed the people who took walking for granted. How could they not appreciate being able to kick a soccer ball? How could they not appreciate being able to just run up the stairs when they forgot something? Not enough people appreciate being able to walk. I just don’t understand.
“Hel-ooooo??” Miranda sang, waving her hand in front of my face. I snapped back to reality and rolled over to Miranda’s bed. Pushing myself out of my chair, I put my butt on Miranda’s bed, and scooted back. I was on.
Picking up the Barbie with the white-blond hair, I picked up a tiny pink brush and started to brush her hair.
“NOOOOOOO, Tasha, that one’s mine!!!” cried Miranda.
“Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, dropping the Barbie as quickly as if she were on fire. Which, I wished she was.
“In this pile are mine, and the pile behind you are the ones you can play with,” Miranda stated matter-of-factly. I stared at the pile sitting in front of her. There were probably about 10 Barbies in that pile. I turned my body to see the pile behind me. In the “pile” lay a single Barbie. The Barbie’s legs were mangled in an impossible position behind her. Her pink pants had a large spagetti stain on them, and she had no top on. Her hair was more tangled than our bushes, and their were little pieces of gum in it.
I stared at the Barbie as I picked her up. Taking the hairbrush from the bright pink bedspread, I began to brush the Barbie’s hair, taking out little pieces of gum as I went along.
Miranda started chatting nonchalantly to me as we cared for our Barbies. After a while, my Barbie’s hair was as straight and soft as silk. I wiped the marker from her forehead, un-twised her legs, and then looked at her.
“Wow!” said Miranda, stopping what she was saying about peanuts to stare at the Barbie I had just fixed up. “She looks pretty!”
“Thanks,” I said as I set her down. I pushed myself off the bed and into my wheelchair, and put my hands on my wheels. “I’m just gonna go get something in my room.”
I wheeled to the room that I shared with Isabelle and Stacey, and pulled up the sheet that covered the bottom of my bed. There it was.
I picked it up, placed it on my lap, then wheeled back into Miranda’s room.
After I was back on Miranda’s bed, I opened the box and dumped the contents of it onto the bed. Miranda gasped when she saw what now lay on her bed.
“I used to use these clothes to dress my Barbies ALL the time,” I said. “Now, they’re yours.”
Miranda stared up at me, her tiny little mouth in a perfect O. “Really? Really, Tasha?” When I nodded to her, she threw her skinny little arms around me. “Oh, thank you Tasha! You’re the best!”
She immediately grabbed a handful of the clothes, ripping the old clothes off of her Barbies. I picked up the one I had been using before and pulled off her pink pants. I took out a sparkley, blue dress and slipped it over the Barbie’s head, turning her over so I could close the little velcro strap that held the dress together. When I saw how beautiful the Barbie had turned out, and how much she had changed, I smiled. The way that the Barbie had changed gave me hope that my life could somehow get better.
“Randy, don’t get too close to the flames-you’ll burn yourself!” I called out as Miranda pranced around the fire, donning a purple ribbon on a stick.
“But this is what all the fairy princesses do before their voodoo ceremonies! They dance around fires with ribbons, and then they all sit around the fire and chant! Don’t you know that????” Miranda continued dancing, paying no attention to what I had just said.
We all laughed, and Miranda just stared angrily.
“Don’t laugh at me!” cried Miranda. “Or you’ll be my first subject of voodoo!” That made us laugh even harder.
Putting aside my iPod, I wheeled over to Miranda and scooped her up into my lap. I closed my eyes as I felt her little head bury itself into my shoulder. Her heat radiated off of her and warmed me even more.
Little kids can always make you feel like you’re at home. Their warmth, the way they talk to you, just the way they look at you-nothing can describe how good they can make you feel on the inside.
“Tasha?” Miranda whispered in my ear. I could feel her breath tickling my ear like a soft, delicate flower.
“Yeah, Randy?”
“Do you think that my real mommy will ever love me?” Miranda asked. I looked down to see cold, pearly tears falling from her amber eyes. She looked up to me like one would look up to their favorite movie star, or their older sister-even their mother.
“Randy, I don’t see how anyone COULDN’T love you! I just know that right now, your mommy loves you so much that she wishes you were with her.” I said, playing with bits of her shiny hair in my fingers.
“You really think so?” She asked as she wiped a tear from her eye.
“Yeah. I really do,” I said as I tucked a strand of hair behind her tiny ear.
