Never Be Alone Page 3

  Joon looked down at the brown floor. “How do you know I have foster brothers?”

  “Oh, hon, news travels fast in this school. Besides, we always keep an eye out for the kids starting here. Let’s get your lunch ticket so you can eat.”

  “Really?” Joon said sharply, delighted to have a lunch ticket.

  “Yep. Come on. Just over there,” she said, pointing to an older lady sitting in a chair behind a small table. “Every day, you go right there, and Mrs. Evans will give you the ticket.”

  Aron had applied for free lunches, and because of her financial situation and the fact that she was a foster parent, the children were accommodated.

  “Hello, Mrs. Evans,” the woman said. “This is Joon Taylor. Today is her first day of middle school.”

  “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Evans said. “Deen and Dobi are your foster brothers, right?”

  Joon nodded.

  “Well now, Dobi seems like a nice young man, but Deen—that boy is just trouble waiting to happen. You steer clear of him,” Mrs. Evans advised.

  Joon smiled politely at Mrs. Evans, avoiding any conversation about her foster family. She was afraid that one of the adults would find out about her living situation and Aron would kill her, as she had threatened.

  “Here’s your ticket,” Mrs. Evans said, handing the small blue card to Joon. “Go on and get your lunch. Have a nice day.”

  Joon extended her hand and took the card. “Thank you,” she said and took a few steps before she stopped. She turned back to Mrs. Evans and the lunch mom. “Have a nice day,” Joon said.

  “I like that kid,” Mrs. Evans whispered to the lunch mom as Joon disappeared into the cafeteria.

  Joon took a plastic tray from the holder and walked toward the food line. She looked through the glass at the food on the other side.

  A lady with netted hair leaned toward her. “Hot dog or grilled cheese?”

  Joon eyed them both. Her stomach felt like it was coming up through her throat.

  “Honey? What’s it gonna be?”

  Joon pointed. “Grilled cheese.”

  “Fries or mashed potatoes?”

  “Can I have some of both?”

  The woman cocked her head and looked closely at Joon’s thin frame. “Sure. Why not?” she said, putting a mound of mashed potatoes next to a pile of french fries. “Looks like you could use some fattening up.”

  Farther down the line, Joon grabbed a vanilla pudding and carton of chocolate milk. She proceeded to the register, where another woman punched a hole in her lunch ticket.

  As Joon held her tray of food, the wonderful smells made her belly dance with delight. She felt giddy. She looked into the vast room filled with rowdy kids. Her anticipation around eating a real meal grew with rapid intensity as she searched for a place to sit. She found four open seats midway through the cafeteria. She sat in the seat on the end, farthest from the kids at the other side of the table.

  After she placed her tray down, she shoveled food into her mouth as if she were possessed, barely taking the time to chew it before swallowing. For Joon, it was as if the whole world went pitch-black and the only things in existence were her and the tray of food. She grabbed, snorted, and shoveled the meal into her mouth. When she drank the last drop of chocolate milk, it was as if a light had been switched on, and she looked around her. The kids closest to Joon were staring at her with their mouths hanging open.

  A girl Joon’s age broke the silence. “Ew. You’re disgusting. What’s wrong with you?”

  All the kids around her laughed. Though hidden under the canopy of her long, blond hair, Joon’s cheeks were bright red. She thought about how she must have appeared to the other kids, eating her food like an animal, but it didn’t matter to her—she’d gotten to eat real food and enough to fill her belly. She stood silently and took her tray to the front of the cafeteria, where other kids were dropping them off.

  Joon followed the flow of kids down the hallway and back to her class. She sat at her desk, her belly bulging from its unaccustomed fullness, and she put a hand over it. She hadn’t felt so good in a long, long time. School was exactly what Joon needed. It was an escape from Aron’s and Deen’s cruelty and a place where she’d finally be able to eat. Joon looked around her sixth grade class. Everyone had their pencils out, ready for their first math lesson. Joon was eager to learn everything the teacher taught.

  She looked down at the open book on her desk. Her parents had taught her that the best thing she could do for herself was get a good education. They’d instilled in her a belief that the one thing no one could take from her is knowledge. From them, she had learned that no matter how little control over her life she thought she had, if she did well in school, she’d always have power. Joon’s parents had taught her that, with a good education, came freedom. Her parents’ beliefs ran through Joon’s mind as she turned her full attention to the teacher. She was determined to learn and take a small bit of control over her own life.

  Chapter Five

  When Joon returned home with Deen and Dobi from the first day of school, Aron was standing at the front door waiting for them. Deen shot through the door first.

  “The whole school was talking about Joon today. They were sayin’ she ate everything in the cafeteria. I heard she was really disgusting and people had to go to the nurse because it was so gross they threw up all over the place,” Deen said, exaggerating.

  “Is that so?” Aron said, giving Joon a scathing look.

  Joon’s heart sank, and the sudden wispy feeling in the pit of her stomach overwhelmed her.

  “So you think that you have a right to eat anything you want ’cause I’m not there to watch over you? Well, I won’t have no fatty as a foster kid. There’s no way that’s going to happen,” Aron said. She grabbed Joon’s arm and dragged her into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and pulling out a small bottle. “Put your head back and open your mouth.”

  Joon stared at Aron in disbelief, afraid of what would happen next.

  Aron pinched the back of Joon’s upper arm. The child reeled from the intense pain. “Head back and open your fuckin’ mouth!”

  This time, Joon did as she was instructed. Aron lifted the bottle and poured in a hefty shot of ipecac. Joon choked down the foul liquid and rushed to the toilet, where she began to violently vomit. Any food left in her stomach spewed out of her in putrid, smelly chunks. The child kneeled before the toilet until there was nothing left in her. With tears streaming down her face and snot stringing from her nose, she looked at Aron with a bewildered gaze.

  “You didn’t like that much, did you?” Aron spat.

  “No. I’m sorry,” Joon cried.

  Aron looked down on the child, pitiless. “Damn straight you’re sorry. Here’s how it’s gonna work from now on. When you go to that fancy cafeteria in school, you can get one thing from the line. What I mean by one thing is a sandwich or a piece of meatloaf or some other shit they’re serving. You can take three small bites of whatever you get. No milk either. You can get a drink from the water fountain. Now, if I find out you eat more than three bites, we’ll do this routine again when you get home. I’m giving you three bites ’cause if I don’t, those nosy bitches that run the place might get suspicious and start trouble.” Aron pointed her finger in Joon’s face. “And if you do eat more than three bites, I’ll find out. You can bet your blubbery, nasty-looking ass that I’ll find out about it. Now, get up off the floor and clean this house up. It’s a mess.”

  Joon followed Aron out of the bathroom. Her stomach was aching and her mouth was filled with the vile taste of puke. Pushing past her discomfort, Joon set about her chores, starting with making Deen’s and Dobi’s beds. By dinnertime, Joon was just finishing the housework. She walked into the kitchen slowly and stood in the doorway. Aron, Deen, and Dobi looked over at her.

  “Are you hungry?” Aron asked in a sweet voice.

  Joon looked at her with wide eyes, unsure how to answer. Her foster mother could easily be
playing her usual trick, so she carefully managed her expectations. “Yes, I’m very hungry.”

  Aron threw her head back and laughed. “Well, that’s a shame because you ain’t getting nothing to eat tonight.”

  Deen grinned from ear to ear while Dobi looked down at his plate of half-eaten food.

  Joon’s chin dropped to her chest and her shoulders slumped forward.

  “Get downstairs, you little bitch. You’re ruining our family dinner,” Aron snapped.

  Joon opened the basement door and descended the stairs. In the pitch-black basement, she sat on the dirt floor and leaned against the cinderblock wall. Her hope that school would be an escape was gone. Aron was the cruelest person she’d ever known, and Joon fed the hate she felt for the woman who was supposed to be her caretaker, sating herself on her emotion in lieu of food.

  She sat in the basement until the door opened, only to be summoned up to clean the dinner dishes. Joon cleaned up from dinner with a renewed sense of energy fueled by her anger. She had a burning, gnawing feeling in her gut as she made Aron’s kitchen spotless. When she was finished, she went back into the basement without being told. She was still scared to death of Aron, but she had taken a tiny piece of control back.

  Joon heard Aron walking into the kitchen overhead. “Joon?” she bellowed, her voice echoing through the house.

  “I’m down here,” Joon yelled toward the door.

  Aron opened the door and looked down at Joon. She rushed down the steps and grabbed the child by the back of her shirt. “Did I tell you to come down here?”

  “No, but I finished the dishes,” Joon mumbled, her bravery slipping away.

  “What are you supposed do when you’re finished cleaning the kitchen?” Aron said through clenched teeth.

  “Squat against the kitchen wall until you come and inspect my work,” Joon said, her voice cracking from the anxiety consuming her.

  “That’s right. You squat until I tell you that it’s time to stop. I told you, it’ll help those flabby thighs of yours,” Aron said, slapping the top of Joon’s leg.

  Tears rushed over Joon’s cheeks, and Aron’s twisted face softened as she experienced a hateful release at hearing Joon’s anguish.

  Aron put her hand on Joon’s shoulder and dug her fingers into the muscles there. “I want you to get upstairs and get into your squat position. When I’m ready for you to stop, I’ll let you know.”

  Aron followed Joon up to the kitchen and waited until the girl leaned against the wall and into a squat. Her bone-thin legs felt fatigued almost immediately. But Joon did as she was told, because if she didn’t, a worse punishment awaited her.

  Aron looked Joon over. In the short moments that had passed, the child’s legs were already trembling. At the sight of Joon’s agony, Aron felt a surge of power. She loved the way her control over the child made her feel. And the government pays me to do this shit, Aron thought with a sinister smile.

  Chapter Six

  Over the next six months, Joon’s body changed. Her twelfth birthday had come and gone with no acknowledgment, but despite the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep and stress, Joon was turning into a stunning preteen. The more the girl developed, the greater Aron resented her. The woman’s punishments focused on dehumanizing Joon. She was often made to wear clothes too small for her or forced to go to school after Aron teased out her hair into a matted and tangled nest. Several nights a week, the girl was forced to stand in the doorway of the living room, her arms held out horizontally while her foster family watched their television shows.

  Shortly after the new school year had started, Deen rushed through the front door screaming for his mother.

  “Calm down, Deen. What the hell’s going on?”

  “Today, a boy in my class told me my foster sister was hot. She’s a little slut, Mom. I won’t deal with this shit. Do you know how embarrassing it is that she acts like a whore?”

  “Is that so? Well, I’ll put an end to this right away. This is the problem when you take in stray kids. You never know where they came from. Besides,” Aron said, cracking her knuckles, “I think Joon is one of the ugliest girls I’ve ever laid eyes on. But I guess if you’re willing to give it up to anyone who pays attention to you, then it doesn’t matter what you look like.” Aron put her arms around Deen’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of this as soon as she gets home. I made her stop at the corner store on her way home to pick up bread.”

  Deen smiled affectionately at his mother. Secretly, he wanted to be the first boy to have Joon and had been waiting for the right moment, when his mother was out grocery shopping or visiting with one of her, what he considered annoying, girlfriends.

  Deen and Aron sat on the sofa waiting for Joon. The woman was livid that the boys at school were noticing Joon. Her jealousy simmered in the pit of her belly, and when the young girl got home, the woman attacked her.

  “You think you’re hot shit, huh?” Aron screamed at her.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t do anything,” Joon said. She looked across the room. An icy chill ran through her at the smile on Deen’s lips. Joon shuffled her feet, slowly backing away. The hateful look on Aron’s face made her palms sweat and her legs tingle.

  Aron moved closer and pointed her finger in the girls face, seething. “Well, you little whore, Deen told me that the boys in his class were talking about you. They’re fourteen, and you’re twelve. Do you know why boys that age talk dirty about girls your age?”

  “But I swear, I didn’t do anything. I don’t even know any of the boys in Deen’s class.”

  Aron slapped her across the face. “Liar! I’ll tell you why they’re talking about you. Those boys like you because they know you’re easy. I bet you’ll suck a dick quicker than eat all the food in my kitchen. Yeah, I bet you’re a real dick tease. Aren’t ya?”

  Joon had never seen Aron so mad. Her heart was thumping thunderously inside her chest. Her palms were slick with sweat, and she felt as though her airway had closed. Pressure built in her head as a high-pitched ringing drowned out her thoughts.

  Aron pushed her against the hallway wall. “So ya think you’re so goddamn hot? Well, you’re gonna show us how hot you are then. We’ll see if you know what the hell you’re inviting when you shake that fat ass of yours all over school. Come in here.”

  Joon crept in slowly. Her mind raced. She couldn’t remember talking to a boy, not even in her own grade.

  “Boys, take a seat on the couch,” Aron ordered. Deen quickly took his seat, but Dobi hesitated. At thirteen, the boy was just showing an interest in girls, but over the years, his empathy for Joon had grown. He wanted to help her but felt powerless against his mother and wasn’t willing to put himself in harm’s way.

  “What are ya waiting for, Dobi? I said sit down,” Aron growled.

  Dobi sat on the opposite end of the couch from Deen.

  Aron sat on the edge of her reclining chair. “See, Sons, what we have here is what’s called a loose girl. That means she’ll have sex with anyone who tells her she’s pretty. I personally think she has some kind of sex disorder. And as her foster mother, it’s my responsibility to stop her from being a tramp.” Aron turned to look at Joon. “I want you to take all of your clothes off.”

  Joon shook her head with conviction. The thought of getting naked in front of Deen and Dobi was more than she could handle. “No, I won’t do it.”

  “You’ll do what I tell you to do. I want you to remember that, as long as you’re in my custody, you’re my property. I own you. Now, take your fuckin’ clothes off before I rip them off your body.”

  Joon crossed her arms over her stomach. She couldn’t make eye contact with Aron. She squeezed her eyes shut as if she could transport herself to another place if she concentrated hard enough. But that wasn’t what she was doing. Joon was repeating, Let me die. Let me die. Let me die, in her head.

  She was so lost in wishing death upon herself that she
wasn’t prepared when Aron punched her in the shoulder. The twelve-year-old flew backward into the wall and crumpled to the floor. Stunned, her eyes sprung open and landed on Aron standing over her.

  “Stand up,” the woman commanded.

  Joon put her hands against the wall to steady herself as she lifted her body from the floor. The girl had gotten much taller since she’d arrived at Aron’s house, and she stood looking down at her foster mother.

  Aron fell a few inches shy of five feet tall, but she reached out with her stubby fingers and pulled at Joon’s shirt. The cheap, thin fabric ripped effortlessly, and as the front fell away, exposing her undershirt, Joon cried. Joon needed a bra, but Aron had refused to acknowledge any of the girl’s needs. Through her hostile treatment of the child, Aron made herself feel whole.

  “It’s up to you, Looney Jooney, you can undress yourself, or I can do it. But you can bet if I have to do it for you, I’ll beat you with a belt once you’re naked.” Aron narrowed her eyes at Joon. “A whipping you won’t soon forget.”

  Joon’s hands were shaking. The threat of the belt against her bare skin brought back the memory of a few years ago when Aron had pulled Joon’s pants down, made her lay facedown on the dirt floor in the basement, and whipped her raw.

  The young girl unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off as best she could—she was shaking so hard from fear that it was difficult to do. Her face was bright red as she stood before Deen and Dobi in her underwear, sobbing.

  “Everything,” Aron said. “Take everything off.”

  Joon removed her undershirt and underwear and then put one arm over her chest, using the other hand to cover her crotch.

  Aron walked back to her chair and sat down. Joon stood awkwardly, trying to steady herself as her head spun. She had a stabbing pain in the pit of her stomach when she glanced at Deen. He licked his lips, and the way he looked at her made her sick. She didn’t know exactly what the look in his eyes was telling her, but her instincts sent panic coursing through her veins.