When Needed
Mar. 4th, 2011 09:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drownedinlight Here's a reworking of something I've been toying with since the ninth grade, and have finally decided to write down.
I. Arcadia
She found out when she was thirteen
From her science class of all places,
So elementary, you just talk about science,
Not about anything specific. They were
Talking about how Mendel bred peas
And the teacher tells them how they get
Their eye color from their parents, and she
Realizes that she has blue eyes, blue, blue eyes,
And her parents both have brown. The teacher
Tells her not to panic. Maybe, maybe there is
Still a chance that she is actually their daughter,
And he tells her to go home and ask about
Her grandparents, only to have her hopes dashed
A second time, because all four had brown eyes,
Too. So this means she could still be their daughter,
But she probably isn’t.
She could not think of what to do with this information;
Should she confess, admit what she knows, should she
Ask where exactly she came from, and what she should
Do now that she knows? She wants an answer to fall
From the sky and sink into her brain.
Who is she now that she no longer belongs to this group
Of people who she achingingly loves. How can she make
An identity from this thing that is not hers, and feels
Now like it never will be.
Arcadia eyed herself in the mirror as she twisted her red hair into a braid. It had been three years since she figured it out, but she was almost sixteen, she should be over the fact that she was adopted.
“Arcadia! Maris is here,” her brother called from downstairs.
“Be down in a minute!” she called back, tying off her braid. She pulled her blue tunic down to stretch over grey skirt, grabbing her bag and a sweater before she jogged down the steps to the front door where her best friend waited. Maris stood outside the door, and called,
“Hey there, Girly,” as she often did when Arcadia wore skirts. “Looks like it’s a blue day for both of us,” she said, gesturing to the blue blouse she wore.
“You’re telling me,” Arcadia said, stepping out onto the front walk, closing the door behind her. She narrowed her eyes at Maris. “You cut all the blue out of your hair.” Maris flicked her dark brown locks over her shoulder.
“Yeah well, the family in Greece might not be too impressed with blue hair. And Mom and I nearly got into an argument over the whole thing, because I said I didn’t want to go to Greece and she said, well, you’re going anyway, so you don’t want to look stupid. Anyway, what’s up with you?” They began to walk down the street, and Arcadia juggled her satchel as she tried to slip on the sweater to ward against the brisk morning air.
“I just remembered that today’s the anniversary, that’s all,” she said. “So don’t worry, I’ll be fine tomorrow, or maybe even later today. You know me, Maris; adoption depression goes with the wind.”
“And comes with it too. You need to tell them you know,” Maris said. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by keeping that a secret. And it tears you down when you think about it.”
“I know I need to tell them, I just can’t help feeling it would do any good. I mean, what happens when I tell them. Maybe some tears, hugs, the whole, yes, we did adopt you thing. I’ve pictured it over and over again in my head, and yeah it’s cynical, but I keep feeling like it’s not going to make me feel any better. It’s not going to change the fact that I still don’t look like my family, and it won’t change that they kept it from me for almost sixteen years.”
“Well, technically, they’ve only kept it from you for as long as you could remember,” Maris said. “’Cause I mean, it’s not like it matters, when you couldn’t remember, because you probably couldn’t understand adoption then, anyway.” Arcadia glared at her friend. “All right, all right, here’s my advice to you. Tell them anyway. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I bet it will make you feel better. I mean, it’ll be all out in the air, and your parents will finally know why you get so…mopey sometimes.” Arcadia frowned at the word choice. She knew Maris meant to say, “depressed,” and was just being nice. “And about the whole, they haven’t told you thing, maybe they didn’t want you to know for a good reason, like they wanted to make you feel like a bigger part of the family, or they didn’t want to traumatize you or something. After all, Cadia, some people go a very long time without knowing they’re adopted.”
“But they had to know I would figure it out,” she said. “I look nothing like them, or Guy.” Maris shrugged, and they walked on in silence for about a minute before Arcadia couldn’t take it anymore, “Okay, so it’s not their fault, and I’ll tell them. And maybe it’ll make me feel better.”
“That’s my girl,” Maris said, pulling Arcadia into a one armed hug. “Now perk up. We have two weeks of school left. Then a whole summer of fun in the sun.”
“In which you will be gone to Greece, and I will be working,” Arcadia retorted.
“Okay, I suck at cheering you up, got it!” Maris exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air, and very narrowly avoiding poking Arcadia in the face. After she dodged, Arcadia could not help but laugh. “All right, so I do have some of the powers of friendship left!”
“You are such a dork sometimes!”
All smiles, they walked toward the school, cheered for the coming day.
“Hey Maris! Arcadia!” Both girls looked up to see a dark haired you man waving to them from the school steps. Around him stood a group of boys, many of which wore letter jackets, decorated with tiny footballs.
“Hey Rolo!” they called in unison.
“Why’d you guys come up with such a dumb nick name?” asked one of the other guys as they got closer.
“It’s not a dumb nick name, Ash,” Arcadia said. “It’s an affectionate shortening of Roland.”
“Kind of like how we call you Ash instead of Astor,” Maris pointed out.
“No, you do that because I tend to hurt people that call me Astor,” he retorted. Roland punched him in the arm.
“Hey, lighten up, Francis.” Ash’s forehead wrinkled.
“Why did you just call me ‘Francis?’”
“Don’t explain the joke, man,” said one of the other members of the team. “Just let him look it up later.” They all looked up as the first bell rang, indicating they had to be to class in ten minutes.
“Oh god, we have home period today, don’t we?” Maris asked. Roland patted her on the head as Maris buried her head in her arms. “Remind me again, why home period is a bad thing?” Ash said.
“Because Lux Harris is in our home period,” Arcadia told him, frowning. Lux Harris was not what she needed on the day when she was thinking about finally telling asking about the adoption.
Piece WC: 1200
3/4/11 WC: 2083
Project WC: 9779
Still Reading: Push Comes to Shove by Maud Lavin
I. Arcadia
She found out when she was thirteen
From her science class of all places,
So elementary, you just talk about science,
Not about anything specific. They were
Talking about how Mendel bred peas
And the teacher tells them how they get
Their eye color from their parents, and she
Realizes that she has blue eyes, blue, blue eyes,
And her parents both have brown. The teacher
Tells her not to panic. Maybe, maybe there is
Still a chance that she is actually their daughter,
And he tells her to go home and ask about
Her grandparents, only to have her hopes dashed
A second time, because all four had brown eyes,
Too. So this means she could still be their daughter,
But she probably isn’t.
She could not think of what to do with this information;
Should she confess, admit what she knows, should she
Ask where exactly she came from, and what she should
Do now that she knows? She wants an answer to fall
From the sky and sink into her brain.
Who is she now that she no longer belongs to this group
Of people who she achingingly loves. How can she make
An identity from this thing that is not hers, and feels
Now like it never will be.
Arcadia eyed herself in the mirror as she twisted her red hair into a braid. It had been three years since she figured it out, but she was almost sixteen, she should be over the fact that she was adopted.
“Arcadia! Maris is here,” her brother called from downstairs.
“Be down in a minute!” she called back, tying off her braid. She pulled her blue tunic down to stretch over grey skirt, grabbing her bag and a sweater before she jogged down the steps to the front door where her best friend waited. Maris stood outside the door, and called,
“Hey there, Girly,” as she often did when Arcadia wore skirts. “Looks like it’s a blue day for both of us,” she said, gesturing to the blue blouse she wore.
“You’re telling me,” Arcadia said, stepping out onto the front walk, closing the door behind her. She narrowed her eyes at Maris. “You cut all the blue out of your hair.” Maris flicked her dark brown locks over her shoulder.
“Yeah well, the family in Greece might not be too impressed with blue hair. And Mom and I nearly got into an argument over the whole thing, because I said I didn’t want to go to Greece and she said, well, you’re going anyway, so you don’t want to look stupid. Anyway, what’s up with you?” They began to walk down the street, and Arcadia juggled her satchel as she tried to slip on the sweater to ward against the brisk morning air.
“I just remembered that today’s the anniversary, that’s all,” she said. “So don’t worry, I’ll be fine tomorrow, or maybe even later today. You know me, Maris; adoption depression goes with the wind.”
“And comes with it too. You need to tell them you know,” Maris said. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by keeping that a secret. And it tears you down when you think about it.”
“I know I need to tell them, I just can’t help feeling it would do any good. I mean, what happens when I tell them. Maybe some tears, hugs, the whole, yes, we did adopt you thing. I’ve pictured it over and over again in my head, and yeah it’s cynical, but I keep feeling like it’s not going to make me feel any better. It’s not going to change the fact that I still don’t look like my family, and it won’t change that they kept it from me for almost sixteen years.”
“Well, technically, they’ve only kept it from you for as long as you could remember,” Maris said. “’Cause I mean, it’s not like it matters, when you couldn’t remember, because you probably couldn’t understand adoption then, anyway.” Arcadia glared at her friend. “All right, all right, here’s my advice to you. Tell them anyway. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I bet it will make you feel better. I mean, it’ll be all out in the air, and your parents will finally know why you get so…mopey sometimes.” Arcadia frowned at the word choice. She knew Maris meant to say, “depressed,” and was just being nice. “And about the whole, they haven’t told you thing, maybe they didn’t want you to know for a good reason, like they wanted to make you feel like a bigger part of the family, or they didn’t want to traumatize you or something. After all, Cadia, some people go a very long time without knowing they’re adopted.”
“But they had to know I would figure it out,” she said. “I look nothing like them, or Guy.” Maris shrugged, and they walked on in silence for about a minute before Arcadia couldn’t take it anymore, “Okay, so it’s not their fault, and I’ll tell them. And maybe it’ll make me feel better.”
“That’s my girl,” Maris said, pulling Arcadia into a one armed hug. “Now perk up. We have two weeks of school left. Then a whole summer of fun in the sun.”
“In which you will be gone to Greece, and I will be working,” Arcadia retorted.
“Okay, I suck at cheering you up, got it!” Maris exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air, and very narrowly avoiding poking Arcadia in the face. After she dodged, Arcadia could not help but laugh. “All right, so I do have some of the powers of friendship left!”
“You are such a dork sometimes!”
All smiles, they walked toward the school, cheered for the coming day.
“Hey Maris! Arcadia!” Both girls looked up to see a dark haired you man waving to them from the school steps. Around him stood a group of boys, many of which wore letter jackets, decorated with tiny footballs.
“Hey Rolo!” they called in unison.
“Why’d you guys come up with such a dumb nick name?” asked one of the other guys as they got closer.
“It’s not a dumb nick name, Ash,” Arcadia said. “It’s an affectionate shortening of Roland.”
“Kind of like how we call you Ash instead of Astor,” Maris pointed out.
“No, you do that because I tend to hurt people that call me Astor,” he retorted. Roland punched him in the arm.
“Hey, lighten up, Francis.” Ash’s forehead wrinkled.
“Why did you just call me ‘Francis?’”
“Don’t explain the joke, man,” said one of the other members of the team. “Just let him look it up later.” They all looked up as the first bell rang, indicating they had to be to class in ten minutes.
“Oh god, we have home period today, don’t we?” Maris asked. Roland patted her on the head as Maris buried her head in her arms. “Remind me again, why home period is a bad thing?” Ash said.
“Because Lux Harris is in our home period,” Arcadia told him, frowning. Lux Harris was not what she needed on the day when she was thinking about finally telling asking about the adoption.
Piece WC: 1200
3/4/11 WC: 2083
Project WC: 9779
Still Reading: Push Comes to Shove by Maud Lavin
