Not Scary

“Here you go, ma’am.” 

I looked into the cup of the ice cream the monotone-voiced guy handed to me. I looked outside. It was a full moon night. This could only mean one thing.

Halloween wasn’t so nice to those who went to McDonald’s.

Because, when I looked into the cup, I had something moving in it. Something was wiggling in the ice cream, and I glared at Mr. Give-Me-The-Wrong-Ice-Cream! He didn’t see me. Well, I thought, my hand crushing the cup like someone does to a stress ball. You won’t be seeing any customers. And not selling is not business. And no business means no money!

I tore out of there, throwing the stupid McFlurry out the window once I had scrolled it down. So what if I had hit another person or—better yet—a customer? When I got home, I dialed one of my best friend's numbers.

“Yes?”

“Hey—” I plopped down onto my beautifully comfy sofa and rampaged about how frustrating it was to spend money and then watch it get chucked out the window, basically by someone else. It was like giving someone something and then watching them throw that item away. How rude!

“It is Halloween—“

“I don’t care! I—”

Knock, knock.

“Who is it?” I pulled the phone away from my ear before saying this. The person mumbled that I had pizza delivered. Pizza? I don’t remember ordering out. I got up and ran to the door, unlocking it and saying that—

Suddenly, I was thrown into something. White lights blazed into my face.

“Happy Birthday, Penny!”

All around me, I saw as I scrambled up to see, were my best friends—Maria, Sophia, Sophie, and Cameron—grinning, laughing and tossing me my presents. “Open!” They cried. I sat up, and shook my head.

“What a surprise!” I thanked them all as I grabbed a box and ripped it to shreds. “Wow, you wouldn’t believe what happened at McDonald’s. The guy didn’t even care that I had, like, a bug in my ice cream. And then he just continued working. I couldn’t have replaced it?”

One of the girls tried replacing my anger with peace. “Hey—it’s your birthday. Please—don’t spoil it. Just open your gifts.”

I did, and when I had received the rose-gold and white headphones I had begged my parents to buy me for years, I put them on. Leaning back onto the long couch (for we were in a limo), I jammed out to one of my favorite artists. Some of the girls rocked out, too, but I looked over. Jaz, the girl who had told me to chill, had tears streaming down her face.

“Oh my goodness, Jaz. You okay?” I tore off the headphones and scooted over to her. Throwing an arm around her shoulders, I whispered, squeezing them, “I’m sorry I hated the midnight run to McDonald’s. It wasn’t fair that—”

“That boy who gave the ice cream was my brother’s friend’s cousin. He just started at McDonald’s a few months ago, and when he looked outside to see the ice cream splattered all over the place, his jaw dropped. He was going to give you a new ice cream, but you had already driven off.”

I stared at her, humiliated. How could I…? Maybe I didn’t look close enough. Maybe I was just too angry. I looked down, not daring to mention that my parents didn’t even buy me presents for my birthday—my friends were the ones who raised me. So while they were off partying and throwing beer down their throats and showing off, I was left to pay the bills from my Kohl’s job. I loved it, but retail was getting old. Besides, I wouldn’t be caught dead in an outfit other than pajamas or sweatpants. But my friend just wiped tears away.

“You always say that your parents…” She turned away, and nothing else mattered. Some girls jabbed me gently to get me out of the car, but I told them they could go on to the usual midnight run to the mall. I blinked, my tongue betraying me by being so thick. I couldn’t speak. Finally, I managed, “Please—I’m sorry. I…” Then I said, “My parents—I’m angry at them, not your brother’s friend’s cousin. Please. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“He never told me, but I sensed despair—”

“Yeah. I know.” I said a little firmly. I had always been kind to Jaz, but, lately, she’s been kind of a party pooper. She always cried for others, but this time, I was celebrating my birthday. The stupid ice cream had a worm—or something—in it!

I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Jaz, but you’ve been upset lately. I don’t really understand why you’re so disappointed. Could you just enjoy the event tonight? You surprised me. I am having an amazing time until your tears came alive. I’m sorry, but you just need to sometimes chill. You’re always ready to get emotional when—”

Knock, knock.

I threw up a finger, and the friend backed off, and then I continued. “You’re always ready to let the floodgates go when I’m around. Couldn’t you have just said something like, ‘You know there was a worm in the ice cream’—”

“No. He’s autistic, and he’s non-verbal. He uses sign-language. I don’t know sign-language.”

“I’m sorry, but you can learn.” And I jumped out of the limo, thanking Mr. Poodles, and left. My friends—at least the real ones—and I had a blast, my mind leaving this situation. I didn’t even remember Jaz’s tears or my anger anymore as we shopped till we dropped, a little exhausted. Someone said it was three in the morning, and I bobbed my head.

“Hey—let’s get a cute haircut.”

But the girls wanted to go for some hairstyles with fancy colors dyed into their hair. I watched the fascination as the brunette received black right down the lower part of her hair, the blond was a little whitish-pink in the bangs and the black-haired girl had yellow strips playing in her hair at different places. Smiling, I commented, and they received them warmly.

“Let’s go…”

I stopped. I fought the urge to wham them upside the head. Two people stood a little ways before me, almost looking at me. The woman had grey in her hair, and the man had a little bit of grey coming out of his hair, too. They looked old. But I knew they were the people who should’ve raised me, not neglected me.

Basically, gave me up for adoption.

“Penny?”

Both of them turned around, my mother looking at me like she hadn’t recognized me. Like I had done something to my face or skin or clothes. I already just had on a peace-sign shirt with black jeans and had brown hair like always. My skin was tan, like always. Not really sure where the surprise was coming from. My father blinked rapidly, like he was getting something out of his eyes. Trying to.

“What are you guys doing here?” I stormed up to them, and yelled in their faces, tears streaming down my face, as I went on and on about how I missed them. I couldn’t have been your daughter? I whipped away, but a hand stopped me.

“Please. I get it.”

I looked up, and it was that cousin Jaz was talking about! I was speechless, because I didn’t know whether to—

Wait! He spoke to me? I thought he had non-verbal autism. When I politely inquired, he laughed and said he does, but he was overcoming it. He didn’t understand why she always had to say that. She just worries about me, he said, giving me a hug. But I tore away, tears flooding my eyes. I ran, and I hid. Why can’t I just be hugged by my parents, not some stranger who doesn’t know me? My parents were never there. I made friends because I had to—love didn’t come from Mom and Dad. They came from birthday parties. No wonder every year on Halloween I go to McDonald’s—I want something good. Something to taste good. Maybe that should be mom and dad. Hugging me, talking to me and, ultimately, laughing with me.

I walked back, having wiped the tears off my face and cleaning myself up a little bit. After I confronted my parents, I said to this cousin person of Jaz’s, “Hi. I don’t know you. I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I just get a McDonald’s for myself to make myself feel good. I don’t have what you have—parents. That’s why I ran.”

I whipped away, the birthday forgotten. I looked at Cameron, Maria, Sophia, and Sophie. They were all embarrassed but also trying to cheer me up. I felt horrible, forcing them to be in this living nightmare. I just wanted to wake up and be—

No, I established. My parents wouldn’t care whether I ran away again or cried myself to sleep this morning. I went up to them and told them that I was going to get adopted by a couple who wanted me. I established new boundaries. I stared at them dead in the eye.

“I’m not your daughter anymore.”

I told all my friends to move on with me, almost ordering them to walk with me. After our two-hour mall excursion, we all returned to the limo, which was pulling up right in front of the mall. Mr. Poodles smiled brightly, but I wanted to blink this tortuous situation away. Instead, I nodded but then climbed into the back, sitting beside Jaz. She didn’t look at me. Fresh tears, I assumed, sailed down her face.

“Look.” It was Cameron. “We all got cute looks for our hair. Didn’t know you were too sad to join us.”

“Yeah,” said Sophia, “could you show some empathy for your friend here? She’s now—” Looking at her watch, she said it was now five thirty, the time I was born. “Seventeen. Seventeen years ago, she was born. She’s your friend. You’re always upset about someone you may love, but confront yourself!”

“What does that mean?” Jaz said.

“It means,” I said, “wiping the tears off your face and telling yourself things aren’t as bad as they could be. Look, I confronted my parents, and I’m going to get adopted. I’m the only child. My parents never had children. I’m not good enough, so I’m selling myself. It may hurt you to hear this, but I’m not interested in your tears unless you do something about them.”

Jaz stared at me for a long time, but I shrugged. Then I found myself flat on my back, and claws inches from my jugular. “What?” I sputtered, striving to get this thing off me. Hissing followed, and then what looked like a jaguar disappeared. I jerked upright, and then I swung around, sensing the limo had stopped.

“What was that all about?” Mr. Poodles’ eyebrows were raised.

“I have no idea.” Then it came to me. “Jaz just shapeshifted into a jaguar. I had no idea she could do that.”

“Me neither,” Cameron said.

I almost forgot she was there. I always forget whether she’s with us—she might as well be invisible. She moves, but her mouth never really does. Sometimes I wish I could just throw her onto stage or behind a podium and force words out of her mouth. It’s okay to be quiet, but with nothing to say, what’s the point of being with people? Sometimes, she brought a book, and just read. I felt a little annoyed around her.

“That was weird!” Sophia exclaimed, and she looked at Sophie and Maria. Maria was also barely involved. The two—Maria and Cam—basically read each other’s minds. They were second cousins, but they just…didn’t talk. It was really odd. I had to pry words out of their mouths they were so quiet. Anyway, Sophia and Sophie jabbered nonstop about the event while I, a little thunderstruck, sat back and watched them, sometimes laughing. My mind went to the adoption agency, and I planned the day. When I had arrived at the adoption agency the following weekend, I was declined.

“Declined?”

“Yes, ma’am. You can’t sell yourself.”

“What kind of place is this?”

“Please, ma’am. This is just procedure. Unless you are 18 or older—”

“Please. I just turned seventeen today. Can’t you fix that law?”

The woman behind the desk laughed. “No! Your parents must be here. It’ll take months, and then there’s the judge and then…” She looked down. “Paperwork. Meetings. It’s a lot of work!”

I forced my parents to give me up for adoption. They reluctantly spent the next two years going through the procedure. I was finally set to go home with new parents! Smiling from ear to ear and hopping up and down, I grabbed them both in a hug. “Bye—I’ll see you never!”

“Bye.” Their soft voice was torn away by my excited self as I jumped into my new parents’ car.

“So, honey, we’ve decided to adopt a brother for you to get along. Is that okay?”

Before just bobbing my head, I thought about it for the next several weeks. They gave me photos of him to look at. They talked to me about this whole thing. They even let me talk to him first on the phone when the adoption went through. I was a little nervous—what if he picked on me all the time? What if he was a menace to society?

What if I had to yank every thought out of his head? What if he was that shy?

Whenever I sat on the tire swing in our new backyard, he wanted to pull me back and I, grinning, let him. “Whee!” I wanted to throw my arms out but I didn’t for fear I’d fall. He taught me to do so. He also taught me carpentry, cooking, sewing, sports, poetry, literature and other exciting things. It’s not that I didn’t go to school; I just wasn’t interested. I was always angry due to my parents’ neglect. I sometimes looked up at the full moon during my midnight runs to McDonald’s and thought about my parents’ arms that should’ve opened wide for me whenever I ran to them as a little girl. The moon’s brightness gaping open for the world to see should’ve also been shared by my parents’ joy to be my parents. Why weren’t they?

We talked in the bedroom that night after a fun Saturday of learning and adventuring in the woods behind my parents’ house.

He looked at me, letting a smile play on his lips, which always made me laugh. I tried this time, but I knew the waterworks would come. When my face crumpled, he came right over and threw an arm around me, squeezing my arms tight like he always kindly did. “Hey—don’t get upset. I understand, but I feel like you’re always upset…”

“No—I understand.” I wiped them away. “I…need to move on.”

He cocked his head, and I just wanted to throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest. Cry all those angry tears out. But he wasn’t my pillow, and I knew it. I never wanted to take advantage of him. He was always so patient and loving—helping me every step of the way, gently reminding me whenever I got frustrated to keep going, putting a hand on my shoulder and gently pushing my chin up whenever I got down. I just wanted to push him away so he didn’t see my tears, but he always threw an arm around my shoulders, asking me whether I wanted an ice cream or giving me my favorite gummy bears.

I would always accept, but, one day, I just let it all out, yelling, screaming and eventually dashing glass and plastic against the walls. My parents came in, aghast but waiting until I had my way. Then they told me calmly, “Penny, I’m sorry you’ve been cast away like a penny in a wishing well. I’m sorry they may have forsaken you! But we never will.”

Doubts filled my mind. I awoke screaming from nightmares of them shapeshifting into horrible monsters, my pillow wet with tears every time I managed to get myself to sleep. Sometimes, I would dash out of my room, my parents, I knew, looking at me with long faces, looking at each other. Hoping I’d understand.

Then my brother threw an arm around me. I wanted to run, but I stayed. Yes, he was the best—a best friend who lived with you. But he was my adopted brother, a twin, I guess. He wasn’t my parents. He told me to remember when I had talked with Jaz, because I had told him. He chuckled, and I smiled, but then we went back to talking, him listening, like always.

“Well,” he said, “I think you are like Jaz. You’re not always upset, but I’d like to see a little more smiles pop up in your life. You got out of there. You put yourself up for adoption. You…” and he spoke gently. “stood up for yourself! Those things count.”

“Yeah, but…”

“If you’re always willing to try to get the thing you want but never being able to, you never will. You will always strive to, but never succeed. Thus, you will never bring about inner peace.”

I looked at him. I thought. What does that mean? What was I even chasing? The moon? Its brightness? What was I doing, wanting something I could never have? My parents weren’t my parents. I looked up at him, into his eyes. But he said, “Please. For me? Talk to your parents. Reconcile with them.”

I did, them apologizing for their ugliness towards pushing me away ever since I was a toddler.

But I moved away with my parents and my twin brother.

With a smile on my face.