#10

Later that night, Lux laid in her bed, thinking about her past. The cold penetrated the thin glass window that separated her from the snowy roads below. It was here and only here she felt safe to think about Russ. She thought back to the last time she saw him. He had been sitting on their front steps at three in the morning, trying to sober up in the chilly fall air. She left the safety of her room and went down to sit with him.
"Go away, Lux." he said. "Please."
Lux silently ignored him, wiping dew off of the stoop so she could sit.
"Go, Lux. I mean it." He had his head turned so she couldn't see his face.
She sat there silently.
Moments past with no sense of time. She gently reached up and turned his face towards her.
And then she understood. He was embarrassed.With two black eyes, a clearly broken nose and a massive split lip, it made sense.
"Please." He repeated.
"What happ-" Russ cut her off.
"Nothing. I got it. Its all under control."
"Clearly. "she said. "good luck with that."
and she walked away.

That was it. Her last memory. Tomorrow would be Christmas, but it didn't matter to her. All she wanted was Russ. Or at least answers. Because at the moment, all she was wishing for was to stop chasing these fleeting memories.

#9

Lux sat there silently staring down the shrink, as if daring him to push the issue. She didn't like to talk about Russ, he was her secret agenda that no one needed to know about. and that was the way she liked it. She understood it made her look like a control freak, but she didn't care. She was doing what she needed to do. No one really knew about Russ; not her foster siblings in this house, or the multiple previous ones. Russ was hers. Hers to protect. To find. And no one was going to take that away from her. Russ was a secret she didn't like to share, least of all to some shrink she met minutes ago. She had to backtrack. Dr. Miller already knew too much about her.

#8

“Are you just going to block the doorway?” An angry voice tore her from her thoughts. “Move already.”

Lux, now returned to her sixteen year-old body, glanced over her shoulder. The frown on her face deepened, and she pulled her light jacket tighter around her body. It did nothing to warm her.

“Why don’t you grow some patience?” She asked, pulling the door open as she walked into the office. Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” lightly buffeted her ears as her senses adjusted to the fluorescent surroundings. She listened to the man swear harshly as the door hit him on the rear as he followed her. “Lux Dalthan,” she told the woman at the desk. “I believe I have an appointment.”

“Dr. Miller’s waiting for you already,” the receptionist replied.

“Lovely,” Lux forced a smile.

“Miss Dalthan,” the overweight man in a sweater-vest greeted her as she entered his office.

“Dr. Miller, right?” Lux asked, hovering in the doorway.

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded, adjusting his glasses as he consulted his chart. “Anything troubling you lately?”

“Not that I want to talk about,” responded Lux. She stood uneasily, watching him.

“Alright,” he sighed, scratching his stomach absentmindedly. “Can we talk about Russel?”

“You’re very straightforward for a shrink,” she commented, a brief smile quirking her lips. “I don’t know if I really want to talk about my brother.”

#7

She jumped off of the couch and nearly sprinted into the adjacent room, eager to get away from her foster mother, not thinking of what she was getting herself into.

“Hello, Lux,” the shrink smiled softly, sitting in an armchair beside a pile of beanbags. “Sit with me?” She gestured to the beanbags, giving Lux a moment to choose a seat. “How are you?” she asked, pen poised, eyes lowered, and ears open, ready to pick the girl apart.

“Fine.” Lux deadpanned. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the bins of toys that seemed to ooze from a corner of the room. The childish things seemed out of place in the otherwise adult room.

“Is there anything you want to talk about, Lux?” The shrink tried to get her attention.

“I want to go home.”

“Home?” The shrink was intrigued. “Why?”

“I miss Russ and my parents.” Lux leaned back in her beanbag chair, crossing her arms over her body. Her mouth quirked in a sideways tick, almost a smirk, but not quite. “I just want my family back.”

“Who is Russ?”

#6

Lux couldn’t help but grimace as she slowed to a stop outside of the shrink’s office. Her hand hovered over the handle as she thought of the last time she’d had therapy.
 She was only eleven, and she’d adjusted poorly to her last two foster homes. The parents always referred to her as ‘uncooperative’ and ‘unwilling’ and ‘rebellious’. If that’s what they wanted to think, she wouldn’t disappoint them with anything different.

Lux protested as she was ushered in through the front door into the fake-cheery, over-scented, ugly mint-walled office. One of the couches was tucked in a corner, its fake leather cracked and faded and peeling away from the arms and seams. She bundled herself into that sofa, watching with wary eyes as her foster mother signed her in.

Once she’d finished at the desk, her guardian crossed the room and sat next to Lux, digging out an old Highlights magazine for them to look at. The woman hadn’t gotten it through her mind yet that Lux had no intention of bonding with her.

Lux jerked away when she reached to tuck a stray lock of Lux’s hair behind her ear.

Before the woman had a chance to look hurt, the shrink emerged from her office, holding a clipboard and calling Lux’s name.

#5

 Patrick’s laugh was thick and smoky. He looked up at the duo with bloodshot green eyes. “So are you his mother or his girlfriend?”
 Lux ignored the furious blush that crept across her face. “I’m not either,” she sputtered. “I’m the reason he isn’t in jail.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You owe me, Freds,” said Lux, glancing back at her old foster brother. “You got me relocated. You got me stuck in community service. You want to throw it all away?”
 Freddie’s smile slipped off of his face. “Point made, Lux.”
 “So, if you’re the reason he’s not in jail, why is he here?” Patrick asked, taking a deep breath to carry the smoke down into his lungs. A slight cough shook his body.
 “Possession charges for both of us,” Lux replied. “What about you?”
 “This time?” he leaned his head against the wall as he thought. “Public indecency,” he grinned. 

#4

 Lux swore and gave Freddie the finger before she turned her back on him. She crossed her arms and watched as one of the other boys in community service evened the paint on a far stretch of wall.
 He took a few steps back to admire his handiwork and gave a satisfied smile to no one in particular. He pulled a cigarette case out of an inner pocket, a pocket of the jeans he wore beneath his jumpsuit. Flipping it open, he extracted a hand-rolled cigarette. He lit it and took a deep breath.
 The boy leaned his roller against the wall and started walking towards them. He paused by the old homeless and fished in one of his pockets for change, letting it slip from his fingers into the copper bowl. “Buy yourself a cold one, man. God knows that’s all I want.”
 The man leaned back and looked at the boy with sagging eyes. “Riddles,” he said. “All you can say are riddles, murk and darkness.” Nonetheless, he smiled pleasantly, glancing down at the change in the bowl as he fiddled with the Walkman he held in his lap.
 The thing suddenly burst into life, blaring a scratchy rendition of Bob Dylan’s “Simple Twist of Fate”, beginning somewhere in the middle.
 “Great song,” the boy said, nodding along with the lyrics. “Mind if I sit?” he asked. “I’m Patrick.” He squatted next to the man and took another long drag from his cigarette. He ghosted the smoke before he finally exhaled it.
 Freddie looked up from his painting, eyebrows furrowed as he sniffed the air. “Is that weed I smell? Lux?”
 “You don’t need to smoke anything, Freds.”
 “The hell I don’t,” he replied, setting his roller down as he approached the pair sitting by the Walkman. “Hey,” he grinned. “Can I bum a hit?”
 “Don’t give it to him,” Lux ordered, storming over to stand in front of Freddie. “He’s in enough trouble.”

#3

Lux pushed her champagne hair off of her forehead with her forearm as she extended her hand for a loose piece of trash. “This is your fault, you know,” she said to the boy leaned against the wall next to her in a matching orange jumpsuit.
 He laughed and fished in his pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. “May be, Lux,” he replied, cupping the flame as he lit the cigarette. He took a long drag from it.
 “Just own up to it, Freddie. It’d make me feel a helluva lot better about this whole situation.”
 “Seriously?” The boy, Freddie, looked over at her incredulously.
 “No,” she snapped. Lux reached over and plucked the cigarette from between his lips. “I told you to quit.” She threw it on the pavement and ground it out with the toe of her sneaker. “Now get back to painting.”
 “I personally like the graffiti, Lux.” Freddie made a show of stepping back as he inspected the cinderblock wall in front of him. “It gives Poplar a bit of spice, don’tcha think?”
 “It gives the clinic a bad rap.” Lux pushed another handful of rubbish into the bag she carried. “C’mon, Freds. It won’t paint itself.”
 “Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, wielding the roller dipped in white paint. Freddie slapped it against the wall and smoothed the paint across the fading graffiti. He cast a sidelong glance at the homeless man in the beanie, shining a copper bowl with a ratty shirtsleeve.
 “Think he knows where to score some weed in the area?” Freddie asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
 “Your issues with weed landed us here, Freddie,” she groaned. “If you hadn’t decided to put half of your stash in my jacket pocket, I wouldn’t even be here.”
 “And I’d be in jail, Lux. No offense, but I’d rather have you here with me.”

#2

“Alright,” Lux huffed, throwing back her hood as she readjusted the seat. “Let’s go meet my new warden.” Without another word, she climbed out of the flashy car, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.
The neighborhood was rough, with cracked sidewalks and overgrown grass, with a mailbox down the street laying in the middle of the road, with houses that seemed weathered and beaten enough to have arrived with the Mayflower. The social worker’s Chrysler looked as if, at any second, it might be jacked and lost to her forever.
Lux’s shoes scuffed the spidered walkway as she approached the front of the house.
“Mrs. Rawlings--Linda-- this is Lux. Lux Dalthan,” the social worker called from the far side of her Chrysler, rushing around it to catch up to Lux. She smoothed her suit as she climbed the stairs to greet the woman. “How are you today?”
“Just fine, Jen,” the woman, Linda Rawlings, broke into an easy smile, shaking the social worker’s outstretched hand. “Hello, Lux. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended a hand to the girl.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Lux replied, sliding into a personality that didn’t belong to her. She clasped Linda’s hand, pumping it cordially.
“Would you like to see the house?”
“Of course. Sounds lovely,” she responded--like she wouldn’t want to see the place they expected her to live for the remainder of her “childhood”.
“If you’ll just step inside then,” Linda directed, pushing the worn door inwards on wailing hinges. “I’ve had a lot of kids grow up here.”
Lux folowed her into the house, glancing over her shoulder to see the delighted expression the social worker--Jen--wore.
“I keep a few pictures of each,” Linda continued, gesturing to the walls with sweeping motions, directing her guests’ attention to the clutter of picture frames, each with a handful of kids frozen in action. “There are three of you right now,” she said, turning to Lux. “Two other boys--Nate Moss and Josiah Good.”
“I see,” Lux murmured, her face a carefully composed mask, the cheery girl eviscerated.
“May we see her room?” the social worker interjected, stepping in front of Lux. “Her things are out in the car.”
“Sure thing,” Linda smiled, heading towards a flight of stairs tucked into the corner of the kitchen. “Just up this way. The boys stay on the other side of the house. You’ve got your own bathroom.”
“Oh--that’s fantastic!” The social worker whirled around on the stairs to look at Lux. “Isn’t that just fantastic?”

#1

The day started with an unwelcome shake of her shoulder, pulling her from the dreams where she hid from reality, where she wasn’t herself, where the car she sat in wasn’t taking her to the next hellhole to call home.
“Lux, honey, we’re here,” the social worker that she kept forgetting the name of announced.
“Don’t care,” she mumbled, fumbling with sleepy hands to pull the hood of her jacket down overt her eyes.
“Don’t be rude, Lux,” she reprimanded. “Mrs. Rawlings is waiting on the porch for you.”
“Tell her not to hold her breath.”
“Lux Dalthan.”