Scarlett White (3 page)

"Uh…thanks?" Scarlett said, glancing down at her lower than average look that consisted of a T-shirt and jeans completed with her marked up and, according to Teen Vogue, last season's keds. Her hair was falling around her shoulders in unruly curls because she had begun to get a headache from the tight bun it had originally been in. So, now her still semi-wet hair was drying in horrid curls down her back.

"It suits you nicely," Francis continued.

"That's really nice; now if you don't mind, could you open the door for me?" Scarlett changed the topic, turning a slight shade of pink from the obvious hints Francis was throwing at her.

"Sure. What are you doing this weekend?" Francis asked as his finger lingered over the red button that would open the door, which led to room 118: Charles' Room.

"I'm working on an English essay," Scarlett replied, not looking at Francis, but facing the door that was still locked.

"Always working on school work, aren't you?"

"Well, if I want to get accepted in an Ivy League college, then I have to be working on my school work all the time," Scarlett automatically answered.

She was desperately thinking.
Is he flirting with me?

"Oh, well, I think you should take a break every now and then," Francis replied.

Oh my, God.
Francis had never done this to her. She had gotten to know him better in the last two years because he had joined the program after Scarlett had started going to the hospital to visit Charles weekly. Francis had never once said anything about wanting to date Scarlett, let alone hinting that he liked her. She finally turned around from facing the door and leaned against the wall beside it, looking at Francis in the eyes.

"What are you getting at?" she asked.

"I'm asking you if you're free this weekend to go out with me."

"Francis!" Scarlett was astonished at how upfront he was being. He had only ever given her the occasional 'hi' and 'bye' as she came and left the hospital, and now all of a sudden he was asking her out?

"What? Haven't I given you enough hints already? For two years now, I've been shooting you obvious innuendos at my affection."

Oxymoron,
Scarlett couldn't keep herself from thinking.

"You've never hinted anything before," Scarlett said quietly.

"Yes, I have. I've winked at you, smiled at you, given you extra days to pay the rent for Charles against official protocol, and I've even given presents on your birthday and Christmas."

"Can you open the door now, please?" Scarlett was surprised and astonished at herself for never realizing this before.

A muscle in Francis' jaw clench, and he pressed the button that automatically opened the door. Scarlett quickly scurried into the hallway located behind the door and leaned against the wall thinking back to all of the times she had come here. She had never once given Francis a second glance. Sure, he was appealing for an eighteen year old. He had black hair and sparkling brown eyes to compliment his tanned skin. His high cheekbones and thick eyelashes weren't so bad either. Not to mention, he was a senior at her school and sat with the 'popular' crowd at lunch. All in all, he was pretty easy on the eyes. But what did he see in her? She was your average seventeen year old junior with untamed scarlet ringlets and ocean green eyes. Sure, she had the body of a movie star, but kept it hidden beneath T-shirts and jeans.

Scarlett took a few deep breaths against the wall and hoped to God that when she left, Francis would be off duty. Maybe she would stay a little longer than usual, so Francis' shift would be done by the time she left. Scarlett walked to the back of the building where her younger brother was.

"Hey, Charles," she greeted as she entered the plain, white safe room. "How's it going?"

She knew Charles wasn't going to answer, but she still greeted him like a normal brother. He hated it when people treated him like he was different, and Scarlett knew that. So, every time Scarlett visited him on every Friday of every year, she greeted him the same exact way. Another thing that bothered Charles was change. He hated when anything was altered from his daily schedule. So, Scarlett wasn't too sure if he would like that she was planning on staying later than she normally did. Usually Scarlett visited Charles for about four hours every Friday after school, but today she was planning on staying a little longer due to a certain problem found in the lobby of the hospital. Charles never really expressed his anger. He was what the doctors called a passive person, instead of an active person. He didn't express his feelings as much as some of the other patients here did, which could be a good thing at times, but sometimes when he was unusually quiet, the doctors couldn't get what was wrong with him out, so they just had to continue his schedule as if he was completely fine.

Scarlett sat on the edge of Charles' small bed and said, "I brought another book for you to read since you finished that last one so quickly; this one is a bit longer. I know you love books about mythological creatures, so this one is about a vampire." Scarlet pulled out a copy of
Bram Stoker's Dracula
and handed it to her brother.

He took it cautiously as he did with everything he handled and looked at it for a minute, studying the cover and reading the back summary. Now, don't be fooled. Charles was a very smart child. His brain was just as active as that of a kid his age—a thirteen year old. But he did have his episodes. And every night Scarlett cried for her brother, always praying for his condition to get better.

He nodded slowly and almost smiled. But he didn't quite get to the smile.

Scarlett understood what he was trying to say. He appreciated the gift and would read it later while he had nothing else to do. But right now he obviously wanted Scarlett to talk to him as he did every time that she visited because she was his only visitor. He enjoyed people's company, but not many people knew him because he had been diagnosed with his condition when he was only five years old. Charles was physiologically stunted. And he was locked up in a mental hospital because he had committed the murder of both of his parents. Scarlett knew that he didn't know what he was doing at the time, but she still missed her father. Charles and Scarlett were half siblings, so his mother was not her mother. And Charles was really Scarlett's only family member whom she could talk to because her real mother, Rosa, was an alcoholic and drug addict. And whenever her mother wasn't high or hung-over, all she did was complain that Scarlett should be making better grades to receive a scholarship so she wouldn't have to pay for college.
Yeah, and then you can spend all that money we get to keep on beer and cigarettes,
Scarlett frequently thought.

Scarlett didn't hate her mother; she couldn't hate her mother because she had taken her in when her father had died. But Scarlett sure didn't love her as a normal daughter should love a normal mother. Scarlett used to be a happy child with a loving father and step-mother. She had loved her step-mother like her own mother—she wasn't like those evil step-mothers in those fairy tale stories. And when Scarlett had been forced to live with her mother, she had gone into denial for months. And then when her mother had locked her half-brother up in this mental hospital, Scarlett had gone haywire. But now she had accepted it.

"Do you want to know what happened at school today?" Scarlett asked. Charles nodded; eager to hear her stories.

"So, first of all, I got partnered with the most self-centered bastar—jerk there is at school. And then he came to talk to me after school, which was a total shocker to me, and he asked me when we could start on the lab project. And I was so stunned because I literally thought he would be a slacker and push the project off until the last minute. Well, anyways I found out that he only wanted to start the project early because he wants to pretend he never had to be humiliated into being my partner. I guess, I should have expected that as soon as our names were called, but couldn't he show a little bit of zeal to be working with me? I know, I'm not immodest, like most of the so-called trendy teenagers these days, or popular or anything, but will that really matter in ten years...?" Scarlett rambled on and on about how she wished she could be popular and be happy with her life just like the good, old days before the unpleasant
incident
.

When Scarlett finished telling her story, she began reading the first chapter of
Bram Stoker's Dracula
to Charles. She sat on the end of the bed, leaning against the padded wall, while Charles sat back on the pillows and wrapped his arms around his knees that he had pulled up to his chest. After a couple hours passed visiting hours, Scarlett decided it was time to go home. She was hesitant to walk back into the lobby of the hospital, but when she made it through the door, she saw that Francis was off duty, and Meryl was on. She waved good-bye to Meryl and headed for her car.

Scarlett got home late that night because she had been held up at the hospital telling Charles about what she planned to say when she saw Tristan tomorrow. Scarlett knew that she would never have the guts or heart to actually say what she wanted to Tristan, but she still liked to make Charles think she was strong enough to do such things. She needed to be strong if she was going to survive in this world. And if Charles was locked up in a hospital all day, then she was the only one who could be strong. But Scarlett knew that deep down she was just as passive as Charles was.

Scarlett threw her car keys on a side table and rushed off into her room to start her neglected homework. It was eleven thirty and, she had a ton of homework to finish for the weekend. She only hoped that her mother would stay at the bar tonight and not come home rambling on and on about how Scarlett should have been home by eight and be in bed right now to get that scholarship.

But, of course, she didn't have such luck. When her mother got home at two in the morning and found Scarlett still writing her English essay, she plunged into an hour long lecture about grades and the importance of them, all while slurring every other word. This was a typical conversation to have between teenager and parent, but not at two and not because the parent wants her child to be smart to buy drugs.

It was Saturday morning, and normally Scarlett would have liked to sleep in until nine o'clock. But Rosa, oddly out of character, woke Scarlett up at eight in the morning. Scarlett rolled out of bed, wondering how in the world her mother was up so early with a hangover. She usually slept for a couple of days during her hangover and then got up to hit the bars for a couple of more days, and then the process started all over again. Scarlett stood up in her room, rubbing her eyes, looking at her mother in total confusion. When her mother just stood there woozily, still in the skimpy outfit that she had worn out to the bar last night, Scarlett asked, "Did you need something or did you just wake me up for the fun of it?" She knew her mother hadn't processed one quarter of the sentence, so she wasn't afraid of being yelled at.

"I need you to buy some groceries," Rosa said in a robotic voice.

"You. Need. Me. To.
Huh?"
Scarlett said slowly, rubbing her eyes again, as she tried to comprehend what her mother was telling her. She was seriously debating climbing back into bed and going to sleep, pretending this whole incident hadn't happened because she gravely thought that she was dreaming this entire situation up.

"Grocery list. Down stairs," Rosa said as she stumbled her way back through Scarlett's door.

Scarlett stared after her drunken mother, thinking,
Well, at least she's taking some sort of responsibility.

Scarlett let out a long breath and began getting ready to head to the grocery store downtown. She tiredly brushed out her tangles and stuffed her annoyingly thick hair into a rubber band. She changed out of her cotton shorts and T-shirt and replaced them with a fitted button-down green blouse and…
Damn, where are those pants?
Scarlett asked herself as she dug through her stuffed closet. She even scavenged through her dirty clothes in her hamper, but couldn't find her favorite pants that matched her green shirt.