I walked into the interviewing room hearing the sound of gum chewing. I was immediately disgusted. I hate the smell, sound and taste of gum. I knew that I will not have this family adopt me.
"Sadie, this is Mr. and Mrs. Twigs," Ms. Willow introduced me to the people in chairs.
There were both big, as in fat, and overweight. Mrs. Twigs and curly, dark chair that went to what looked like a chin and had dark eyes, they looked black. I was surprised she could make it from her house to the car. Mr. Twigs on the other hand, was thin, was in needs to eat. He had blonde hair and baby blue eyes.
"Call me Marybeth and him Al," Mrs. Twigs said, emphasizing the word him with her Alabama accent.
"Uh . . . well. Hi?" I said, making it sound like a question.
"I'll leave you guys alone," said Ms. Willow and shut the door leaving me with these strangers.
Silence. A dead silence. No one talked. Only the sound of Al's chopping of his gum filled the room. It was getting very irritating.
"You like baseball?" asked Al chopping his gum louder this time.
"No."
"You like football?" asked Marybeth.
"No, football is a horrible sport," I said and started to talk with my hands. "All it is, is sweating guys running around a field trying to get a ball to just run across the field."
Marybeth and Al were stunned. They probably liked football, but I didn't care. I went on.
"The rest of the Americans waste their valuable time sitting down on a coach staring at a TV screen house on end eating popcorn, corn dogs, and soda pop getting fat."
"Well I ought-a!" Al threatened.
"You!" Marybeth screamed, pointing at Al. "better be nice to her and see if we can get a child I can have."
I was confused. I can have? Weren't they married? Why wasn't Marybeth calling Al, dear, Al, babe, sweetie, all those gushy names and calling Al him and you?
"Do you have any kids?" I asked them, because I wanted to have brothers and sisters instead of just me.
"Yes, one. His name is Bob and watches football all day."
"Oh . . .," I replied, embarrassed. I just made fun of their son. I felt myself become red up to my hair line. I played with my fingers "How old is he?"
"22."
"What?"
"22. He lives with us because he's too big to go any where else."
"Umm . . ." I said, following a long silence.
The door opened and Ms. Willow walked in saying, "So, do you want to adpo--" She didn't even get to the T, instead of saying, t, she just stared at us. "Oh . . . so no, I guess."
"Ya think," I said, jumping off of the chair I was sitting on and leaving the room.
That night was horrible, I couldn't sleep. The thoughts of me being normal kept creeping into my head. You're normal, you're normal.
I woke up at six, and had an early morning breakfast. When I was about finished, everyone else came in. I looked for Skye, and her sister. They were gone.
"Excuse me, Ms. Willow, where is Skye and Paige?" I asked her as she walked by me.
"Paige got adopted yesterday and Skye died of cancer."
"Cancer? What? She was fine yesterday."
"Skye had leukemia. She comes in and out of the hospital. I came into her room and there she was lying dead. She must have died in her sleep."
Then Ms. Willow walked away. I was stunned. There's no way that she could have. I left the room and followed Ms. Willow.
"Where are you going?"
"To Skye's funeral."
"You have it planned already? How?"
Ms. Willow sighed, then stopped at looked at me. "The doctors knew Skye was going to die in a couple weeks, they told us last week, we didn't think it would be that soon."
"Could I come?" I asked.
"Of course," said Ms. Willow and she grabbed my hand and we walked to the funeral home.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
"We all know Skye Jessie Sweet is in a better place know," Mr. Jones concluded. Mr. Jones was the lawyer for the orphanage, and he asked personally to Ms. Willow if he could lead it, and of course she agreed.
Everyone gathered around the coffin in which Skye's body laid, motionless. I pushed the crowd so I could be right by it. There was a red heart and the words, Skye Jessie Sweet engraved in it. I put my hand on top of the heart and cried. My tears looked like raindrops on the coffin. I sat there for what seemed like forever in that position. Then, I ran away.
