Are you here yet?, chapter 1
As I sat on the front porch waiting for my mom to come I began to get tired. I have been waiting here for the past hour waiting and waiting for her to come. She used to be so nice. She used to be so pretty, but that's all changed after the affect of drugs and alcohol. She won't call, she won't stop by, and she won't even appear in my dreams anymore. I have been wishing forever that one day all of this would change, that I could just rewind time, but I know as much as the next guy that that will never happen. I know that she won't change for me; she hasn't for the last fifteen years, so why would she need to now? I don't know... from what she says, I don't now anything. Most of the time all I do know is sit and play my guitar, worrying about what my future will be like. Am I goanna live like her, or will I choose to lead my own life? I chose two years before today that I would stop worrying about this and that I would go on trying to get all A's on grades and make the people I live with happy.
Less than five minutes had passed and I was now laying on the porch waiting for her to come, waiting for a car to pull up and someone to get out and say "I love you", I'd been waiting for those words for so long now, but I haven't heard them since my father died when I was ten. I have never heard anyone say this, not my aunt or uncle, or my siblings. No one seems to love me, but is that how it really is, or am I just thinking this? I hoped and thought as I lay there. No one pulled up to the house. No one said I love you. Nope. I was alone, with nothing to do. Sitting there, laying actually, waiting some more. I was tired, of waiting. I couldn't stand this. My mom, did she really love me, or did she just say she did? I have been told about experiences like this in other families, but in the end something happened to happy their relationships, was that goanna happen to me? I didn't know, I wouldn't know until the day I died. I wish I knew what my future was going to be like, but would I be happy with the results? I hoped that one day my life would be as nicely made as my friends are. They have a whole family, one that they can talk with without being told that they needed to wait until a better time. They could explain their problems and be talked to in a nice way; they weren't yelled at, told to go to their room because what they were saying wasn't made for the family rule. They couldn't explain their problems. But things go wrong sometimes and then you regret ever being born. That's how my life has been since I was ten and my mom walked out after dad died.
Soon after I had gotten up I walked over to a chair and sat down, still hoping that she would pull up. She had sent me a letter saying that she had changed her actions and that she wanted me to come live with her. She was the only family that I really knew, and she had written in her letter that she loved me; I appreciated this even if it may not be true. I don't know whether she is telling me the truth, but I enjoyed hearing her say it, or writing it. I sat there waiting too, but even as I waited for the next half-hour she didn't come. I got tired of waiting and went into the cold house. I was the only one home so it was also quiet.
"When will she ever figure out that she needs to quit making people think things, and then just make their happiness come tumbling down and down? I wish she only just knew." I asked the house, though it couldn't possibly answer me. I turned away from the kitchen, which I had been facing, and walked into the living room. The television was off so it was quite boring. My foster mum had called the cable company to come and fix it because the family cat had chewed through the wire, we also needed to arrange a funeral, and I'd rather not say who killed it...
The cat has been missed; by everyone except me foster brother, Anthony. He never had liked that cat from what I've been told. The Hanson's wouldn't be home for another four hours; they were all at my foster dad's parent's house. They said I didn't have to come if I didn't want to, because this time my biological mum may actually come to pick me up. Me and her were supposed to go somewhere, she wouldn't tell me where, but I might be lucky that she hasn't came to get me. Usually, before anyway, when she had me come anywhere with her it was to a drunk's house, where she was always into trouble, and almost always arrested. I don't like to think about those times, I've been told to look ahead, and not behind. I always wonder, is that really as great of advice as everyone tries telling me it is?
Soon I went upstairs to my room, me and my younger brother, Daniel, slept upstairs. It was like an attic actually, but whoever lived here before us made it into a room. There are two rooms up there, me and him in each. I am the only person in this family that wasn't born a Hanson; everyone else was born to Debbie and Jeff Hanson, seven children, eight counting me. Sometimes I wish that I could see my older siblings that were all born Armstrong's, to Andy and Ollie. My actual brothers and sisters are all older than me; Marcy, Holly, Ana, David, and Allen. I do miss them, but I haven't seen either of the five since I was adopted by this family. My mum says that when I come to live with her she will have the others too, but I can hardly believe her, because they are probably all over the globe by now. I don't know what to believe of her after the last time she tried to get all of us to come and live with her.
When I was in my room I walked over to my bed and lay down on it. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to lie on, but if you were tired it was. This wasn't the richest family either. As I looked around my room to the pictures on the walls of my other family I wanted to cry. Everything about them, I missed. Why had this had to happen? I guess I'll never find that out... I have always wished to though. When my dad died I can remember sitting up on the night in bed crying, never had I harder. Still at times I felt like doing that, but it wasn't goanna do any good to cry, it wouldn't make him come back. I did the same thing the first night my mum was arrested, I felt so horrible, thinking that it was my fault. Marcy had come in and sat beside me, held me close saying that everything was goanna be alright, she would take care of us if our mother wouldn't, but, what happened? I know that I cannot blame her for this, after all, she had been the one to comfort me through my fears, and David, he had been like a father to me, only he wasn't, he was my older brother. Him and her, them together, they helped us through hard times, until the last time my mum was taken away, then the two of them were taken away, followed by Holly, Ana, and Allen. Then me.
The last thing I remember before falling to sleep was the picture of all of us together the night before dads funeral, pinned on my ceiling. I had I dream, and in this dream were all of us together. We were sitting at the large table back in my old house. The green on the walls was pealing off because of how many times we had thrown the ball at it. The paint wasn't that appealing to the human eye, but it was the best we could afford. Zero, my cat, was lying on the red and white striped rug next to the sink, he was waiting for us to drop some scraps, but we never did. We acted so alive, like nothing could go wrong; dad was laughing, mum, not smoking, and us kids, we were not fighting, at all. I looked over to Zero who got up and stretched as he noticed me looking and came over to my chair, standing on his hind legs and putting his paws on my leg, asking for food. I took a small piece of sausage from my plate and slipped it under the table so that no one could see me handing it to him. Seconds later he was repeating his action, this time I didn't give him anything, I simply pushed his paws off of my leg and pat his forehead.
I heard a door open downstairs and woke up. It had been a dream. My dad wasn't there... man, why'd I have to keep having those dreams? I sat up and pushed my reddish brown hair out of my face and walked downstairs.
"Billie? We're home." I heard Debbie call.
"Oh no, not you again. I was hoping that you would have run away whilst we were gone." Anthony said to me as I came down.
"Nope, sorry, I couldn't think of anywhere to go," I said, "maybe next time though." He came over to me and remessed my hair up, not that he could mess it up any more than it already was. By now I was almost as tall as him, 5'7 ½'', we were both short for our age, but it didn't bother us. He was seventeen, and I was sixteen.
"Well, take me with you when you decide to go. I got to get out of here." He said smiling at Debbie.
"Watch it Anthony, I may just chase you out of here," she looked at me, "but Billie, I'll make him stay."
"Oh please, come on Debb, you'd actually do that to me?" I joked. Maybe I was a little over dramatic, they do say they love me at times, but still, I wish someone would just say it a few more times. I walked over to Lila and picked her up. She is a small girl, five years old, her favorite hobby, to be read to. Me and her can set in the small library for hours reading books, and for her age, she can really read. She has finished the whole Harry Potter collection, though I had to help her quite a bit, it took us only about two years. Every night she asks me to read her a story before she goes to sleep, it takes forever because of her interest in every one of those stories. I love to read to her, I love to see her be happy; it makes me happy when she is.
"Lila wanted to come home to be with you, she didn't even ask grandpa for a hug like she usually does." Debbie said to me.
"Oh, well, come get a book." Was my only response. I really didn't like their grandparents, and they didn't like me. They seem to think that because I was not born into this family that I cannot be a grandchild of theirs, but I'm fine with that. Sometimes I can tell that Lila doesn't like them either, nor Anthony, he says they still treat him like a five year old, which Lila takes offensively. I took her into the small room and let her choose a book. So far her favorite one was Dragon Rider, she asks me to read it all the time. I took the book out of her small hands and opened to the marked page. We were on chapter seventeen.
"The hot air felt as thick as cotton wool to Twigleg. He made his way through it, keeping his sharp nose raised to pick up the scent of water. Yes, the old cistern must be right there at the foot of the hill, under that tall incense tree. He could already smell the water distinctly... " I took another breath before reading on, "... With difficulty, he made his way through boulders and coarse grass. His arms and legs ached horribly from his days of playing hide-and-seek, shut up inside Ben's backpack..."I continued to read on, "... He had Sorrel to thank for that- the stuck up, suspicious brownie!" I had read a few chapters before Debbie came in and told us that we would be going out for supper, and said that I should probably bring my cell-phone just incase Ollie tried to call. I wondered why she cared but I brought it along anyway.
We all got into the large red van and sat down, buckling ourselves in, I helped Lila get in her car seat. We drove to a restaurant that was down the road, we didn't know why it was called this, but they called the place Big Blonde's Bloopers, I really didn't get it. We walked in and were soon seated and looking at the menus.
"Lila, do you want macaroni and cheese, like you always want?" Jeff asked her
"Yup!" she said excitedly. I looked over my menu and found a small salad. I am a vegetarian so I don't eat meat, but really, I don't eat much at all. When the waitress came to get our orders, we all told her what we wanted. For some reason she wouldn't stop looking at me, I began to feel uncomfortable. Finally she looked at me one last time and began to talk. "What's your name?"
"Um, Billie Joe." I said nervously.
"What was your mother's name?" she asked me.
"O-Ollie Armstrong."
"Oh yes," she smiled and looked me in the eye, "I knew I've seen those eyes somewhere before."
"Huh?" Anthony asked her
"I knew your mom in college, we were good friends, but then she met that Andy, she wouldn't talk to me after that. Did she divorce him before meeting your father?"
"Andy is my father. He died a few years ago of a heart attack." I said sadly. I didn't like to discuss my dad's death to anyone.
"I'm sorry. He wasn't that great when I met him, but I am sure he was a great father."
"Yes, he was." I said looking away. Debbie seemed to notice my feelings towards this so she spoke up.
"Um, he really doesn't like to talk about his family to people he doesn't know."
"Oh. Are you his aunt?"
"No, I am his foster mother."
"Oh, okay. Um, I'll just go check in your orders." She said hurriedly as she walked away.
"Why does everyone have to continue asking him questions about his other family after he and us have asked them not to?" Maria asked. Maria is my twelve year old foster sister. She tried to stick up for me all the time, same for me to her.
"I don't know, they are just a bit too curious I guess." Jeff answered her. I looked at the waitress and then to Debbie, "It's getting annoying though."
"Yes, I know. But, we really can't stop them, they have freedom of speech, and we cannot do anything but ignore them, or ask them to change the subject." She looked at me, "Not many people have had a life like yours, and they find it interesting to hear about someone that has had a bad life. People will try and say that they have a bad life, but when they hear yours, they feel differently about their own." She turned to Lila and smiled, "But you don't have to worry about this little girl, she just wants to hear a story, and she'll be happy."
A few minutes later the waitress was bringing their food to them, asking what they wanted to drink.
"Sorry, I forgot to ask for your beverages, what would you like?"
"Orange juice!" Lila said.
"Um, Lila honey, I don't think they have orange juice this early."
"We can make it if you'd like?"
"If it's not too much trouble."
"I'll have a Coca-Cola." Maria said.
"Yeah, me too." Anthony and Daniel said.
"Me and him will have coffee." Debbie said because Jeff was in the restroom.
"We'll have orange juice too." Kaila and Alice said. They too are my foster sisters. Kaila and Alice are twins, they are fourteen.
"I will have coffee too." Catherine in my oldest Hanson sibling, she is eighteen. She will be going to college next year.
"And you?" she asked looking at me.
"Um, root beer, please." I said without looking up to her. Debbie was watching me; she could tell that I was thinking about my dad.
***Debbie's P.O.V. ***
By now I could tell that Billie was thinking hard about his family. The look in his eyes says it all. Why did she have to come over and ruin a perfectly good time? We brought him here so that he didn't have to worry about all of this, so that he wouldn't feel upset that his mother hadn't come to get him. I hope he feels better.
"Okay, I will bring your drinks and food in a few minutes." She said, still looking at Billie. I could tell that her staring at him made him feel uncomfortable, but I couldn't think of anything to do except get Anthony to start talking. I lightly kicked his knee, he understood.
"So, um, what are we goanna do once we get home?" he asked, not starting out very good, but well enough.
"Well Anthony, now that you ask, we cold take the dogs out for a walk. They need it." I looked over at Billie, "what do you want to do?" he looked up at me and back down.
"Probably go to bed." He wasn't feeling very good right now, and it hurt me. I didn't like to see him this way. I tried starting a new topic.
"Lila, what book are you reading now?"
"Dragon Rider, remember? You read it to me last night." she said looking disappointed.
"Oh, yeah." Soon later the waiter came back with our orders. Billie ate very little, and slowly. He didn't drink very much either.
"Billie, are you feeling alright?" I asked him. Maria looked at him and put her hand on his shoulder.
"B.J., you goanna make it?" he looked up and nodded. He was sort of pale, making me feel really bad.
"Um, guys, let's hurry and eat so we can get home." I looked to Billie again, "B.J., try to eat, we'll go as soon as we can. You do need to rest." He nodded and picked up his fork and pushed the salad around on his plate. Lila looked at him and frowned, she was usually the one who was feeling bad and he comforted her, but it was her turn now.
"Billie Jow, it wull be awright." She said in her little child voice, she messed up many words while talking, but it didn't bother any of us.
"Yeah, I know." He smiled weakly. His looks, usually he was so happy looking, but now it had changed. Every time someone said something about his parents he felt so bad, especially when they talked about how they were planning their summer vacations. They always asked if he wanted to go but he would always respond with a no. soon we were almost done with eating, Daniel being a slob.
***Billie's P.O.V.***
I wasn't feeling good, and everyone knew. I felt so dumb when people would talk about my family and I can't even take it. I always sit back and feel bad. The Hanson's are so, well, better at hiding that stuff. They don't get all sorry for themselves when something goes wrong, but I always do...
"Okay, you guys all ready to go?" Debbie asked us.
"Mom, can we get some ice cream?" Maria begged
"Maria honey, where are we supposed to get ice cream?"
"Dairy Queen." She simply answered.
"Maybe tomorrow if you behave, and only if you all behave."
Less than five minutes had passed and I was now laying on the porch waiting for her to come, waiting for a car to pull up and someone to get out and say "I love you", I'd been waiting for those words for so long now, but I haven't heard them since my father died when I was ten. I have never heard anyone say this, not my aunt or uncle, or my siblings. No one seems to love me, but is that how it really is, or am I just thinking this? I hoped and thought as I lay there. No one pulled up to the house. No one said I love you. Nope. I was alone, with nothing to do. Sitting there, laying actually, waiting some more. I was tired, of waiting. I couldn't stand this. My mom, did she really love me, or did she just say she did? I have been told about experiences like this in other families, but in the end something happened to happy their relationships, was that goanna happen to me? I didn't know, I wouldn't know until the day I died. I wish I knew what my future was going to be like, but would I be happy with the results? I hoped that one day my life would be as nicely made as my friends are. They have a whole family, one that they can talk with without being told that they needed to wait until a better time. They could explain their problems and be talked to in a nice way; they weren't yelled at, told to go to their room because what they were saying wasn't made for the family rule. They couldn't explain their problems. But things go wrong sometimes and then you regret ever being born. That's how my life has been since I was ten and my mom walked out after dad died.
Soon after I had gotten up I walked over to a chair and sat down, still hoping that she would pull up. She had sent me a letter saying that she had changed her actions and that she wanted me to come live with her. She was the only family that I really knew, and she had written in her letter that she loved me; I appreciated this even if it may not be true. I don't know whether she is telling me the truth, but I enjoyed hearing her say it, or writing it. I sat there waiting too, but even as I waited for the next half-hour she didn't come. I got tired of waiting and went into the cold house. I was the only one home so it was also quiet.
"When will she ever figure out that she needs to quit making people think things, and then just make their happiness come tumbling down and down? I wish she only just knew." I asked the house, though it couldn't possibly answer me. I turned away from the kitchen, which I had been facing, and walked into the living room. The television was off so it was quite boring. My foster mum had called the cable company to come and fix it because the family cat had chewed through the wire, we also needed to arrange a funeral, and I'd rather not say who killed it...
The cat has been missed; by everyone except me foster brother, Anthony. He never had liked that cat from what I've been told. The Hanson's wouldn't be home for another four hours; they were all at my foster dad's parent's house. They said I didn't have to come if I didn't want to, because this time my biological mum may actually come to pick me up. Me and her were supposed to go somewhere, she wouldn't tell me where, but I might be lucky that she hasn't came to get me. Usually, before anyway, when she had me come anywhere with her it was to a drunk's house, where she was always into trouble, and almost always arrested. I don't like to think about those times, I've been told to look ahead, and not behind. I always wonder, is that really as great of advice as everyone tries telling me it is?
Soon I went upstairs to my room, me and my younger brother, Daniel, slept upstairs. It was like an attic actually, but whoever lived here before us made it into a room. There are two rooms up there, me and him in each. I am the only person in this family that wasn't born a Hanson; everyone else was born to Debbie and Jeff Hanson, seven children, eight counting me. Sometimes I wish that I could see my older siblings that were all born Armstrong's, to Andy and Ollie. My actual brothers and sisters are all older than me; Marcy, Holly, Ana, David, and Allen. I do miss them, but I haven't seen either of the five since I was adopted by this family. My mum says that when I come to live with her she will have the others too, but I can hardly believe her, because they are probably all over the globe by now. I don't know what to believe of her after the last time she tried to get all of us to come and live with her.
When I was in my room I walked over to my bed and lay down on it. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to lie on, but if you were tired it was. This wasn't the richest family either. As I looked around my room to the pictures on the walls of my other family I wanted to cry. Everything about them, I missed. Why had this had to happen? I guess I'll never find that out... I have always wished to though. When my dad died I can remember sitting up on the night in bed crying, never had I harder. Still at times I felt like doing that, but it wasn't goanna do any good to cry, it wouldn't make him come back. I did the same thing the first night my mum was arrested, I felt so horrible, thinking that it was my fault. Marcy had come in and sat beside me, held me close saying that everything was goanna be alright, she would take care of us if our mother wouldn't, but, what happened? I know that I cannot blame her for this, after all, she had been the one to comfort me through my fears, and David, he had been like a father to me, only he wasn't, he was my older brother. Him and her, them together, they helped us through hard times, until the last time my mum was taken away, then the two of them were taken away, followed by Holly, Ana, and Allen. Then me.
The last thing I remember before falling to sleep was the picture of all of us together the night before dads funeral, pinned on my ceiling. I had I dream, and in this dream were all of us together. We were sitting at the large table back in my old house. The green on the walls was pealing off because of how many times we had thrown the ball at it. The paint wasn't that appealing to the human eye, but it was the best we could afford. Zero, my cat, was lying on the red and white striped rug next to the sink, he was waiting for us to drop some scraps, but we never did. We acted so alive, like nothing could go wrong; dad was laughing, mum, not smoking, and us kids, we were not fighting, at all. I looked over to Zero who got up and stretched as he noticed me looking and came over to my chair, standing on his hind legs and putting his paws on my leg, asking for food. I took a small piece of sausage from my plate and slipped it under the table so that no one could see me handing it to him. Seconds later he was repeating his action, this time I didn't give him anything, I simply pushed his paws off of my leg and pat his forehead.
I heard a door open downstairs and woke up. It had been a dream. My dad wasn't there... man, why'd I have to keep having those dreams? I sat up and pushed my reddish brown hair out of my face and walked downstairs.
"Billie? We're home." I heard Debbie call.
"Oh no, not you again. I was hoping that you would have run away whilst we were gone." Anthony said to me as I came down.
"Nope, sorry, I couldn't think of anywhere to go," I said, "maybe next time though." He came over to me and remessed my hair up, not that he could mess it up any more than it already was. By now I was almost as tall as him, 5'7 ½'', we were both short for our age, but it didn't bother us. He was seventeen, and I was sixteen.
"Well, take me with you when you decide to go. I got to get out of here." He said smiling at Debbie.
"Watch it Anthony, I may just chase you out of here," she looked at me, "but Billie, I'll make him stay."
"Oh please, come on Debb, you'd actually do that to me?" I joked. Maybe I was a little over dramatic, they do say they love me at times, but still, I wish someone would just say it a few more times. I walked over to Lila and picked her up. She is a small girl, five years old, her favorite hobby, to be read to. Me and her can set in the small library for hours reading books, and for her age, she can really read. She has finished the whole Harry Potter collection, though I had to help her quite a bit, it took us only about two years. Every night she asks me to read her a story before she goes to sleep, it takes forever because of her interest in every one of those stories. I love to read to her, I love to see her be happy; it makes me happy when she is.
"Lila wanted to come home to be with you, she didn't even ask grandpa for a hug like she usually does." Debbie said to me.
"Oh, well, come get a book." Was my only response. I really didn't like their grandparents, and they didn't like me. They seem to think that because I was not born into this family that I cannot be a grandchild of theirs, but I'm fine with that. Sometimes I can tell that Lila doesn't like them either, nor Anthony, he says they still treat him like a five year old, which Lila takes offensively. I took her into the small room and let her choose a book. So far her favorite one was Dragon Rider, she asks me to read it all the time. I took the book out of her small hands and opened to the marked page. We were on chapter seventeen.
"The hot air felt as thick as cotton wool to Twigleg. He made his way through it, keeping his sharp nose raised to pick up the scent of water. Yes, the old cistern must be right there at the foot of the hill, under that tall incense tree. He could already smell the water distinctly... " I took another breath before reading on, "... With difficulty, he made his way through boulders and coarse grass. His arms and legs ached horribly from his days of playing hide-and-seek, shut up inside Ben's backpack..."I continued to read on, "... He had Sorrel to thank for that- the stuck up, suspicious brownie!" I had read a few chapters before Debbie came in and told us that we would be going out for supper, and said that I should probably bring my cell-phone just incase Ollie tried to call. I wondered why she cared but I brought it along anyway.
We all got into the large red van and sat down, buckling ourselves in, I helped Lila get in her car seat. We drove to a restaurant that was down the road, we didn't know why it was called this, but they called the place Big Blonde's Bloopers, I really didn't get it. We walked in and were soon seated and looking at the menus.
"Lila, do you want macaroni and cheese, like you always want?" Jeff asked her
"Yup!" she said excitedly. I looked over my menu and found a small salad. I am a vegetarian so I don't eat meat, but really, I don't eat much at all. When the waitress came to get our orders, we all told her what we wanted. For some reason she wouldn't stop looking at me, I began to feel uncomfortable. Finally she looked at me one last time and began to talk. "What's your name?"
"Um, Billie Joe." I said nervously.
"What was your mother's name?" she asked me.
"O-Ollie Armstrong."
"Oh yes," she smiled and looked me in the eye, "I knew I've seen those eyes somewhere before."
"Huh?" Anthony asked her
"I knew your mom in college, we were good friends, but then she met that Andy, she wouldn't talk to me after that. Did she divorce him before meeting your father?"
"Andy is my father. He died a few years ago of a heart attack." I said sadly. I didn't like to discuss my dad's death to anyone.
"I'm sorry. He wasn't that great when I met him, but I am sure he was a great father."
"Yes, he was." I said looking away. Debbie seemed to notice my feelings towards this so she spoke up.
"Um, he really doesn't like to talk about his family to people he doesn't know."
"Oh. Are you his aunt?"
"No, I am his foster mother."
"Oh, okay. Um, I'll just go check in your orders." She said hurriedly as she walked away.
"Why does everyone have to continue asking him questions about his other family after he and us have asked them not to?" Maria asked. Maria is my twelve year old foster sister. She tried to stick up for me all the time, same for me to her.
"I don't know, they are just a bit too curious I guess." Jeff answered her. I looked at the waitress and then to Debbie, "It's getting annoying though."
"Yes, I know. But, we really can't stop them, they have freedom of speech, and we cannot do anything but ignore them, or ask them to change the subject." She looked at me, "Not many people have had a life like yours, and they find it interesting to hear about someone that has had a bad life. People will try and say that they have a bad life, but when they hear yours, they feel differently about their own." She turned to Lila and smiled, "But you don't have to worry about this little girl, she just wants to hear a story, and she'll be happy."
A few minutes later the waitress was bringing their food to them, asking what they wanted to drink.
"Sorry, I forgot to ask for your beverages, what would you like?"
"Orange juice!" Lila said.
"Um, Lila honey, I don't think they have orange juice this early."
"We can make it if you'd like?"
"If it's not too much trouble."
"I'll have a Coca-Cola." Maria said.
"Yeah, me too." Anthony and Daniel said.
"Me and him will have coffee." Debbie said because Jeff was in the restroom.
"We'll have orange juice too." Kaila and Alice said. They too are my foster sisters. Kaila and Alice are twins, they are fourteen.
"I will have coffee too." Catherine in my oldest Hanson sibling, she is eighteen. She will be going to college next year.
"And you?" she asked looking at me.
"Um, root beer, please." I said without looking up to her. Debbie was watching me; she could tell that I was thinking about my dad.
***Debbie's P.O.V. ***
By now I could tell that Billie was thinking hard about his family. The look in his eyes says it all. Why did she have to come over and ruin a perfectly good time? We brought him here so that he didn't have to worry about all of this, so that he wouldn't feel upset that his mother hadn't come to get him. I hope he feels better.
"Okay, I will bring your drinks and food in a few minutes." She said, still looking at Billie. I could tell that her staring at him made him feel uncomfortable, but I couldn't think of anything to do except get Anthony to start talking. I lightly kicked his knee, he understood.
"So, um, what are we goanna do once we get home?" he asked, not starting out very good, but well enough.
"Well Anthony, now that you ask, we cold take the dogs out for a walk. They need it." I looked over at Billie, "what do you want to do?" he looked up at me and back down.
"Probably go to bed." He wasn't feeling very good right now, and it hurt me. I didn't like to see him this way. I tried starting a new topic.
"Lila, what book are you reading now?"
"Dragon Rider, remember? You read it to me last night." she said looking disappointed.
"Oh, yeah." Soon later the waiter came back with our orders. Billie ate very little, and slowly. He didn't drink very much either.
"Billie, are you feeling alright?" I asked him. Maria looked at him and put her hand on his shoulder.
"B.J., you goanna make it?" he looked up and nodded. He was sort of pale, making me feel really bad.
"Um, guys, let's hurry and eat so we can get home." I looked to Billie again, "B.J., try to eat, we'll go as soon as we can. You do need to rest." He nodded and picked up his fork and pushed the salad around on his plate. Lila looked at him and frowned, she was usually the one who was feeling bad and he comforted her, but it was her turn now.
"Billie Jow, it wull be awright." She said in her little child voice, she messed up many words while talking, but it didn't bother any of us.
"Yeah, I know." He smiled weakly. His looks, usually he was so happy looking, but now it had changed. Every time someone said something about his parents he felt so bad, especially when they talked about how they were planning their summer vacations. They always asked if he wanted to go but he would always respond with a no. soon we were almost done with eating, Daniel being a slob.
***Billie's P.O.V.***
I wasn't feeling good, and everyone knew. I felt so dumb when people would talk about my family and I can't even take it. I always sit back and feel bad. The Hanson's are so, well, better at hiding that stuff. They don't get all sorry for themselves when something goes wrong, but I always do...
"Okay, you guys all ready to go?" Debbie asked us.
"Mom, can we get some ice cream?" Maria begged
"Maria honey, where are we supposed to get ice cream?"
"Dairy Queen." She simply answered.
"Maybe tomorrow if you behave, and only if you all behave."
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