The Woodlands (#1 THE WOODLANDS SERIES) (COMPLETE)

4. THE NEWS

When I woke up the next morning, the greyness still offended my eyes as it had the day before. I wondered if other people ever got used to it. Did they crave difference the way I did? I peeked out my door to see if my parents were still having breakfast and was startled when Paulo rapped on it, sending it banging into my nose.

“We need to speak with you,” he said, his chest puffed up like he was so proud he could burst. I knew this couldn’t be good. I rubbed my nose and said I would be out in a second. “Don’t dawdle, this is important,” he snapped impatiently.

My nose was searching for phantom smells of the cooked breakfast we usually had on weekends but there was no eggs or ham sizzling. So I took as much time as I could, literally dragging my toes backwards on the carpet as I walked, enjoying the itchy burn it created across my feet. When I finally got to the kitchen Paulo was tapping his foot agitatedly and frowning.

“You should sit down,” Paulo said with a criminal smile. I was irked at his tone and did the opposite. I stood, leaning my folded arms across the old, wooden chair, rocking it back and forth, enjoying the creaks and the irritated look on his face as he twitched every time it made a noise.

I eyed the odd assortment of furniture, no chair matched. Everything was clean but used. We never knew where it came from. When they moved us the first time, we were told to leave everything behind and that our new home would already have the furniture we needed. I stared down at the chair and wondered who used to sit here. Did they have these parental meetings? Did they sit around the table with their child eating meals in silence?

I was pretty sure I knew what this was about. My latest string of detentions had to come up eventually. It made Paulo look bad to have such a disobedient stepdaughter.

He stared down at me as he paced around the kitchen; his slick, dark hair combed back to reveal his wrinkled brow and strained eyes. I tried to look at him objectively. Maybe he was handsome once. Now he just looked cruel, his whole face twisted into a dark, unreadable smile.

Whilst Paulo was itching to get my attention, my mother could barely look me in the eye. Her frail, dark hand traced the lid of the jam jar over and over like she would wear a hole in the rim. She would let him do the talking. She was afraid of him. I was not. Her whole demeanor curled away from Paulo and from me. Like a leaf dried up in the sun, you just had to step on it lightly for it to disintegrate to nothing and Paulo’s foot was always hovering over her, ready to come down.

The table was spread with a bizarre assortment of food: pickles, jam, olives, and bread. Like Mother had just grabbed an armful of pantry, distractedly, and thrown it on the table. It didn’t matter. No one was eating. I looked at the food questionably and then at Paulo. “What’s this about? I have homework to do and I’m sure you have important tasks on the agenda for today, like sorting through your clothes to see which shirt stinks less.” Giving him attitude would certainly result in a harsher punishment.

Paulo smiled and a shiver ran through me. He locked eyes with mine, making me feel like something someone had scraped off the bottom of their shoe.

“We are moving house in a few weeks. So yes, I do have some important jobs to do today.” He smiled and twisted a stray hair back into the oily, black scrape on his head.

My mother gave him the slightest look of annoyance—like he had said the wrong thing—but covered it quickly.

“Where are we going?” I said with an edge of panic in my voice. I tried to push it down. I didn’t want Paulo to see me struggling—whatever was going on.

“WE are going to Ring Two. You? Well, I don’t know where you’re going yet,” Paulo said through straight teeth set in a sickening smile.

My heart sunk and surged and I started to panic. Panic, which quickly flipped to anger as I sifted through the possibilities that would separate our uncomfortable little family. Was I going to the Classes? No, I was too young. I was sixteen; they couldn’t take me until I was eighteen, unless…