Dropping himself into the remaining chair, Mr. Evans glanced in Mrs. Evans’ direction. She hastily cleared her throat and made introductions.

“Sweetheart, this is Erica, our newest little addition!” God, Erica sighed to herself, the woman was acting as if she’d brought home a bundle of babies wrapped in adorable fuckin’ puppies… “Erica,” Mrs. Evans smiled proudly as she turned to her, shyly waving a hand at the opposite end of the table, “This is my husband, Richard.”

Erica turned to Mr. Evans and offered him my hand. “Nice to meet you, Sir,” she smiled, “I’m excited to be a part of your family.”

Mr. Evans reached out and shook Erica’s hand; a weak grip and a too-quick release of her hand told her that here was a man who, while he undoubtedly had a mind of his own, wouldn’t speak it too quickly for fear of rocking the boat. She thought of the money in her pocket and smiled.

After that, dinner was a quick affair; with little talking, except maybe on the part of Mrs. Evans, who kept endeavoring to make Erica feel like she’d found a sweet little close-knit family unit. And even after only about fifteen of those attempts she, too, fell silent and ate her pizza with no more idle chatter. Dinner ended with the four throwing everything, including, Erica noted, some un-touched pizza, into the trash.

                                                        *******

Three and a half weeks later, Erica had begun attending the local school, and the girls were back in the house. The girls turned out to not be the ‘perfect little playmates’ she’d assured her P.O.; both at that delicate stage of becoming a diva, they were granted any wish that popped into their ‘delicate’ little heads.

The youngest was skinny as a rail with straight black hair that hung to the center of her back. The eldest, in contrast, was thicker and almost shorter than her sister, with shoulder-length, light chestnut-brown hair. Both extremely fond of anything small, pink, and fluffy, they managed to give Erica trouble not two minutes after they arrived home.

“You. Take my stuff to my room…take Phoebe’s, too. Hurry up,” she sapped when Erica didn’t move right away, “We don’t want to have to wait all day to unpack!”

Erica glared down at the ninety-something pounds that was barking orders at her, and resisted the strong urge to pick it up and hurl it through the nearest window.

“Oh, what, you don’t want me to unpack it all for you, too, Missus? I’d, I’d be right happy to, if’n you’d like me to, Missus Melissa, I shor’ would!” The girl’s face didn’t seem to want to crack into a smile, like Erica’s had.

Erica caught a glimpse of a smile from the older girl, still hovering on the threshold, possibly to see if she would, indeed, toss her sister through something. The little one didn’t seem as pleased with Erica, however.

“Hey! We’re the ones who actually belong to this family, so you’ll do what we tell you, got it? If you don’t, there’s gonna be trouble, you little interloper,” Melissa snarled, putting her face dangerously close to Erica‘s. Erica bent slightly as the knees and squared off with the pixie.

“Oh, so it’s not like I’m your dirty nigger or anything; it’s more than I’m Cinderella and you’re supposed to be the ugly, stupid step-sisters?” she asked in soft tones, pointing to the girls in turn.

“Except you’re the ugly and stupid Slut-erella, who’ll do what she’s told if she knows what’s good for her.” The girl actually brought her hand up as if to slap a hoe! ‘This has gone too far,’ Erica muttered to herself, snapping her own hand out to snag the girl in mid-swing. She stared with shocked eyes for a moment, and then shouted for her mother.

Mrs. Evans came bustling into the entryway, looking flustered and confused at the summons. “What is it, honey?” she asked her tiny daughter, arm protectively encircling her. By that time, Phoebe had closed the front door and shuffled her bags into the living area, and Erica was standing leaned against the doorframe of the entryway, arms crossed in front of her. Melissa glanced at her before looking up at her mother, tears springing to her eyes in an instant.

“All I’d asked her to do, Mommy, was please help us take our bags to our room; they were heavy…” A sniffle, placed well, caused Mrs. Evans’ eyes to snap to Erica. “And she snapped at us that she was too busy to help us; we’d better learn to take care of our own…” And here, a smooth and ‘frightful’ glance around the room before she whispered the last word, “Crap,” and clasped her hands over her mouth as if she’d said ‘fuckin’ tits’ in front of a priest.

Mrs. Evans glared at Erica, snapped at her to take the girl’s things to her room, and swept both Melissa and Phoebe out of the room into the kitchen. Erica sighed and started ferrying loads of luggage to the room at the very end of the hall, stacking it in the middle of the room. Once done, she went to her room and flopped down on the bed, tucking her headphones over her ears.

This was just the start of a never-ending battle of wits at the house; Melissa trying her best to provoke Erica into trouble, Erica working her hardest not to destroy the snot, and Phoebe not taking anyone’s side but trailing along after her younger sister with an attitude of indifference toward her younger sister. Erica’s escape became the school, Magnolia High; those seven hours a day, five days a week began to add up to thirty hours a week of freedom from the annoyances of having a spoiled imp constantly picking at her defenses.

At Magnolia, Erica just had to show up to be left alone. In class, no one wanted to compete with this new disturbingly smart chick; on the yard, none wanted to talk to the new kid that smoked in the parking lot. Making few acquaintances, Erica held no real hope of finding friends. Until the day she met Thomas.

A small, gangly boy of fourteen, Thomas wasn’t the coolest kid at Mongolia, but he wasn’t a total social outcast. Not being a nerd, he didn’t get picked on by the jocks, and, not being a jock, he didn’t get looked down on by the ‘unpopular’ for being too cocky. Able to both smoke pot under the teacher’s noses and simultaneously pass his classes while holding the record for most times jumping his skateboard off the roof of the school, he was cool enough to be able to associate with everyone but ‘crazy’ enough to be left alone, at the same time.

While standing by a senior’s car, having her late-for-class-cause-I-had-to-pee cigarette, Erica was surprised when a blur of orange rammed itself firmly into the closed trunk of the car next to her with a loud and very disappointed-sounding “Ooofff!” As the boy disentangled himself from the car and the skateboard, Erica blew a smoke-ring and eyed him with mild interest.

“Ya all right?” she muttered as the boy straightened and glanced quickly around to see if anyone had witnessed his astounding feat. He blushed slightly and glanced quickly away, fishing in his pocket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

Lighting one, he turned to her and grinned widely. “Yah, only I was aiming for the light pole.” Pointing at the pole standing some twenty or more yards away, he shrugged and exhaled. “Guess I missed a bit.”

Erica laughed and held out her hand. “Erica. And I’d say that’s more than a bit, wouldn’t you?”

The boy laughed himself and clasped her hand. “Yah, I suppose you’re right…well, nice to meet you. Imma go get high before study hall…see ya round!”

As the boy dropped his skateboard and prepared to launch himself across the parking lot, Erica reached out and grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute.” The boy looked over his shoulder at her hand, then up to her face with a slightly cold expression. Letting go, Erica grinned again, “You didn’t tell me your name. Besides,” she added, shrugging her shoulders and patting her pocket, “Where’s the fun of smoking by yourself?”

The boy eyed her for a second, then threw his head back and laughed. Wiping his eyes, he kicked his skateboard up and nodded his head in the general direction of the garbage dumpster. “I’m Thomas…Tom. C’mon. Let’s go match.”

Erica shook her head and followed as Thomas took off at a surprisingly brisk pace. They reached the dumpsters and Tom sat down next to one, bracing his back against it and pulling a baggie from one of the many pockets on his pants. Erica handed him a black case, and he unzipped it, taking out the glass pipe inside. Holding it up to the light, he let out a low whistle and turned it this way and that before shaking some of the weed from his baggie into the bowl.

“Nice colors, man…this thing’s seen some business in it’s time, huh?” Tom smiled, handing the now-packed pipe to Erica. “Guests get green.”

“Nah, I couldn’t…it’s your stash, man,” Erica muttered, taking out her own baggie and grinning again. “I’ll take next green.”

Thomas shrugged and lit the bowl, inhaling and holding the pipe out to Erica. As she reached out to take it, however, three figures emerged from the darkness behind the dumpsters. Erica was on her feet and moving toward them by the time Thomas had registered the presence of other people. Coughing, scrambling to stuff the pipe and the case into his pocket, Tom jerkily rose to his feet, turning to face the three apparitions.

The tallest was on the end, thicker than the other two put together. He wore a letterman‘s jacket over a tight-fitting white shirt, jeans and sneakers, and his demeanor screamed jock. Dyed-green hair and a nose-ring betrayed the fact that although he may have once been a star of some team, he had obviously been let go. The one closest Thomas was a contrast, small and wiry with brown hair that kept falling into his eyes. Wearing clothes that were greasier than his hair, he looked every bit the rat of the trio. The boy stepping forward to confront Erica was medium in height and build, with buzz-cut, bright-orange hair and freckles for miles. Dressed in work pants and a white t-shirt, he had an arrogance that seemed to seep from him like a wave. The other two boys eyed Thomas a moment before focusing on Erica again, the one with freckles almost stepping to Erica‘s toes. Erica didn’t back away, her arms hanging limply at her sides, although Tom noted her fingers twitching slightly.

“What’s goin on back here, stoners?” Asked with a sneer, the boy hurled the question at Erica, sparing Tom a glance again. Erica shifted her weight slightly backward, her shoulders tensing the tiniest bit. Her hands curling a just a little, she grinned, “Why? Got an urge to take a toke?” Tom tipped his skateboard up, bending his knees and hefting it like a staff, and the two other boys moved forward. As Erica shoved the freckled boy backwards, Tom jabbed the skinny one on the left in the stomach with his skateboard, and the kid doubled over. Erica and the freckled fuck toppled onto the ground in a flurry of fists and curses, leaving the behemoth who remained on his feet wide open for Tom to whack upside the head with his skateboard. The guy was prepared, though, and ripped the board from Tom’s hands and began to attack him with it, bringing it around to hit him as Tom tried to stop his forward momentum. The added blow completely unbalanced him, and he tripped over Erica, who was straddling the freckled boy, whacking his head on the pavement.

Tom slammed into Erica, knocking her off the guy. The boy with the skateboard continued to wail on the both until the skinny boy had caught his breath and managed to pry the skateboard from his larger companion’s hands. Erica jumped to her feet, falling into a fighting stance, ready to continue. She eyed the two warily as they glared at her, sizing her up.

“Just gimmie one reason to rip you apart, guys,” Erica muttered as Tom got to his feet. The two glared at her a moment more before the skinny one nudged his friend in the ribs and nodded pointedly toward the freckled boy.

“Fine,” the punked-out jock muttered, throwing the skateboard at Tom, who sidestepped and watched it bounce over the parking lot. He reached to help try and rouse the freckled boy, and Erica tried to move in front of them and finish the fight. Thomas pulled her back and shook his head when she glared at him, mumbling, “Let it go, they’re done. YOU technically did start it, anyway…”

“Dude, don’t care. Let go of me,” Erica growled, attempting to pull away. Thomas yanked her back a step, putting his arm around her shoulders and keeping a firm grip on her arm.

“Look at the size of that guy, Erica.” Tom nodded to the neon-haired giant. “And there’s three of them,” he hissed in her ear. “Myself, when the odds are against me, I take my leave and blaze. Fuck study hall, let’s just bail for the day.”

Erica wrenched herself from his grasp and turned to see the freckled boy on his feet, shaking his head slightly to clear it. “Again, don’t give a shit. You wanna bounce, kick rocks. I got business to finish here.” She advanced on the three, falling back into an offensive stance. “Now, guys, where were we?”

The ginger boy tested the back of his head with his fingers, and seeing no blood come away, he grinned mockingly at Erica.

“You ought to listen to your boyfriend there, little girl,” he said, waving the other two back, “He’s only trying to keep you from getting hurt.”

“Actually, you little ginger fuck, I’m trying to keep her from getting in trouble. See,” Thomas said as he took a step forward, “I ain’t worried about her gettin’ hurt, seein’ as how she had you on your back like a bitch in no time flat.”

“Stay the fuck out of this, stoner,” the skinny boy put in, his hands curling into fists. Thomas smirked and waved the guy on with both hands, “Bring it, weasel.” The small boy’s face contorted in anger and he would have lunged at Tom but for the ginger one’s arm in his way. “Leave it. I came to talk to the new bitch.”

Erica cocked an eyebrow at him and tilted her head to the opposite side. “The new huh?” she snarled, standing her ground and ready to pounce.

“Why aren’t you kids in class?”

The holler, coming from the direction of the school building, brought all five of them to a halt as their heads swiveled toward the sound. Some teacher was leaning out the door of a classroom, shading his eyes with his hand and staring in their direction.