Nothing Is What It Appears To Be

Chapter 29

Nothing Is What It Appears To Be

After being in a held in a holding cell for nearly a week after my Family Court hearing; I was taken to my last foster home somewhere clear out in American Fork UT, a small farming community known as Highland. Which is about 75 five miles from Santaquin due north of Salt Lake City? I had learned early on that nothing is what it appears to be. I was told that Rothwell family was one of the best and have had several foster kids in the past who are now living a good life due to the family structure and values, and unlike the Downing’s they are God-fearing LDS with high standings. The State considers them to be role models to other foster homes.

For some reason I felt no reassurance; not even Jeff was convinced by the load crap this new social worker was trying to shove down my throat. You have heard the saying trust is earned; trust me when I say your eyes can be deceived. Everything may look good on the outside, but in truth, it was rotting from the inside out. Let’s start with the new guidelines or should I say binding rules to fit everyone but you. Some things were left out of the broacher or vacation pamphlet.

The house was set at the end of the street about five houses down from a large subdivision, with a large pasture for horses. I wasn’t allowed to take my horse even though there was plenty of room for him; there was only one horse to share all that room. I wasn’t even allowed my hamster buttercup and was at least given the choice to give her to my brother Aaron or let my brothers Robert and Will take her. The choice was clear as any; knowing full well what would happen if I left her in my parent’s house. I simply let Robert and Will take her. In fact, I wasn’t allowed any pets at all. Just the clothing on my back that’s it, I was told they would provide everything I will ever need and had been given enough money to do so.

Red flags went up in my mind as we got to the door. Everything seemed to emasculate for such a large family. The yard was too tidy and the windows too clean, not a speck of dirt anywhere; including the sidewalk or the driveway for a family of eight not including two foster children. I was not surprised when asked to remove our shoes in the very clean white tile hallway near the door.

At first, the family seemed kind enough. Stating the two foster boys were spending the weekend at a friend’s house down the street, and wouldn’t be back until Saturday night. Something smelled fishy as I caught a glimpse in the mother’s eyes when she quickly called for the rest of the family to be present. But I could have been wrong. Jeff seemed to senses something dark and sinister as Mr. Rothwell came over to introduce himself and the rest of the family.

Mr. Rothwell was big if not bigger than Pa, his eyes dark green with yellow specks like a dragon I had seen and movies, His arms built like harden steal of a stone giant. I had been told he worked as a prison guard for harden criminals somewhere near Salt Lake City. His face looked as if it was chiseled from stone, and his manner seemed cruel and angry. It took great control not to shake with fear, for he did nothing to set you at ease. I felt full terror as I looked him the eye. I wanted to run and hide just to get away from him.

The living room was very clean as if it had never been used. Mrs. Rothwell had dark brown hair that seemed puffy with spots of gray as it crowned her head with green eyes like the rest of the family. They seemed like dark pools that could swallow your very soul and never let you go. She wasn’t as tall as Ma just barely reaching her husband shoulders at least five- nine. quickly grabbed my arm not hard, but hard enough to take notice. Then quickly let go as if forgetting her self in the moment and covered up by pointing to the coach.

While her Daughter Jody with light brown hair shoulder length and green eyes, with the average height of my sister Anna five feet six, but three years younger 16 setting down a plate of freshly baked double chocolate chip cookies. Stating they were told they were my favorite, hoping to make me feel at home placing a napkin in my lap so I wouldn’t spill crumbs onto the very clean carpet. That she is looking forward to her sophomore year at the same high school as her brothers and sister.

I was then introduced to her sister Kerry with longer brown hair not quite to her waist standing five feet- six inches taller and almost three years older, stating she will be a senior in high school this year at American Fork High School. The same one we had passed about seven miles up the road. I too was looking forward to spending my first freshman year in high school, but I was hoping to be doing it with my brothers Robert and Will. Oh, how I missed them wiping an escaped tear, hoping it would go unnoticed. I was soon poured a large glass of freshly made lemonade. While I was told we normally don’t allow food in the living room but was informed this was a special occasion. So they let it go as long I was careful.

Shane 17 a high school Jr. at American Fork High School, was next in line as he quickly nodded in a stuck up way, but polite enough as if given a warning glance from his parents. Something seemed very odd about that, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Shane was very tall almost like my brother Robert if he ever got his height. Almost blond hair and green eyes like his sisters, they reminded me of a cat’s eyes. He didn’t say much except almost coldly. “It’s nice to meet you and have been told so much about you.” almost overdoing the part “of so much about you” It seemed rehearsed. Again red flags went up warning me. Jeff didn’t seem comfortable at all as if he was waiting for something to jump right out and say surprises as if I had just jumped into a house full of zombies about to eat me.

Shawn was next in line his hands felt limp like a wet dishrag. Pa told me once that you can size a person up by a handshake. It will tell you how much the person truly means it when they introduce themselves. By the way, Shawn shook my hand it seems he did it with as much warmth as petting a cobra ready to strike. Again the thought of the Downing’s made it very hard to hold back the tears. Shawn was almost my height five feet two and had just turned 14 the same age as me. He was looking forward to attending school as a freshman with his two older siblings.

It seemed clear enough that I would be attending the same school, nobody said differently. I didn’t push the issue, but I should have while the social worker was there. I soon learned that I would be attending a different school altogether. They didn’t go into a lot of detail. Only stating the school I would be going to would be better set to “my needs.” And more will be explained when we get closer to going. The word “trust me,” you’ll like it there and will be attending with the “other foster boys.” Again red flags went up. I didn’t like the way Mrs. Rothwell said “other foster boys.” It sounded hard and cruel like it left a bad taste in your mouth. Jeff was getting more and more concerned and so was I. Apparently my social worker thought nothing of it.

I soon met Jared and Jason as they quickly took their place on the floor like very obedient children. When I say “Obedient” I mean it like how people would train their dogs if they did something wrong. I could catch a glimpse in their eyes as if they were saying. Run, you don’t want to be here. Jared was just a little younger than my brother Aaron at least 9 years of age with short brown hair cut missionary style. He seemed short for his age standing nearly four feet with the same green cat eyes as his brothers. It was beginning to creep me out big time. His little brother Jason age 5 was very shy and afraid to say anything clinging tight to his brother Jared’s hand. He too had the same eyes and the same hair cut. After they were all introduced and grabbing a cookie they were calmly excused as if being excused from the table as if they did something wrong without any further word.

Apparently, I was about to be explained the rules and those strict guidelines; I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like them. The air in the room seemed to change as my eyes were forced to look at them; not in a friendly manner. Mrs. and Mr. Rothwell took seats across from me while my social worker sat next to me. There had been so many that they seemed to change with the tide, it wasn’t worth remembering each of their names. Let’s just say there were a number of them and leave it at that.

I was soon explained that I would not be returning home for home visits anytime in the near future; as she mentioned I am considered a problem child and a known runaway. “Which won’t be tolerated here.” Mr. Rothwell stated quickly and harshly. Even though I tried to explain it was a lie. In which I hadn’t really run away during a family camp-out with my brother. Just to gain attention; causing unnecessary panic for my parents and the Downing’s, which I nearly died falling off a cliff with massive injuries caused by myself. I yelled that my father caused those injuries;, not me. But it was him and my mother while they had drugged me and kidnapped me and my brother. Earning a slap across the face from Mrs. Rothwell; my caseworker didn’t object to it in the least. Stating that I was out of line and should learn to behave myself, and stop telling such vile lies.

Mr. Rothwell stating that he guarantees that I will learn to be sibyl or spend most my time grounded to my room. My social worker nodded her head angrily stating I need to think carefully of my actions in the very near future. I bit my lip feeling and tasting the blood in my mouth. I was then told because of my actions there will be further consequences. One I will not be allowed any phone privileges until I could be trusted. I was not allowed to call any of my friends or relatives, which included my grandmother. All letters will be screened before opening and sent. I wasn’t allowed to make any contact with the Downing’s and they, in turn, were not allowed to contact me under any circumstances. Stating if they try they will be removed by force if necessary. I will be locked in my room until further notice.

The home visits I could care less about, in fact, it would be best if they never happened at all. I winced thinking about my brother Aaron; again there was nothing I could do for him. I was in enough hot water as it was despite that it wasn’t my fault; somehow Aaron was going to have to fend for himself. For now at least until I could come up with a solution, and pray that my grandmother will keep an eye on him until then. It bothered me that I haven’t been allowed to see her or talk to her since I had been under lock up. Even then she wasn’t allowed to see me or talk to me. I haven’t even been allowed to see my brother since the time he was dragged away from me. I only had Jeff’s reassurances that he was all right for now at least. It hurt like hell, but rules were meant to be broken. Somehow I would find a way if it was the last thing I did.

There were lots of new rules regarding what I could do or couldn’t do, it was more than I couldn’t do that bothered me the most. Red Flags and warning signals were screaming in my mind, and my hope of any happiness here was sinking fast like the Titanic. I was then given the tour of the house, the upstairs at least. As they stated the basement is usually locked during the day due to small children could easily get into trouble. Shane and Shawn had their own key and the two “other boys slept downstairs where it’s nice and cool; again that strange eye movement that was really starting to bother me. I questioned the chain lock on the outside of the door and the deadbolt. It seemed that it was locked from this side more than the other.

The question I had was why? I should have asked, but instead chose to remain silent. I had my doubts that my question would have been answered with my social worker so close by. The kitchen and the dining room adjacent to the basement which led to the large family room and door to the two car garage, every wall in the house was white and clean; the same with the off white carpet in every room.

Too clean for a family this size if you ask me. You could almost smell the chemicals that kept it clean. It was nothing like the Downing home where it felt warm and loved and most of all safe. Here it was just the opposite. Cold and disinfectant, nothing said love and homey. Maybe I was too critical as I compared it to what I wanted, but I soon learned it was worse than cold and it was an avoidance of anything of love and safety. Jeff didn’t like it one bit. Feeling the walls and then rubbing it off quickly onto his pants frowning.

I was then returned to the living room soon after showing me where I would be staying. It was a small room white just like the others. A small brown dresser across from the small single bed with a nondescript print that did nothing for an all ready bear room, the closet was filled with new clothes that were my size. Apparently even they were decided for me. The walls were bare no posters or picture hung on the wall. My caseworker whispered harshly in my ear to thank them for taking the time and preparing my new accommodation; she in no means said it sweetly. Grabbing my arm not to kindly as she waited for me to say thank you; having them state it was no trouble at all. Grinning like a sick cat that had too much cream.

I was then told to wait in my room until super time. Suggesting a long nap would not go wasted nor will time alone to think about my previous behavior and how I intended to mend my behavior in the future. My social worker had them sign documents that released me into the Rothwell’s care and handing over their first check as if it was a bill of sale. Stating she will be back to check in on me in two weeks; Jotting down the date and time on her calendar to remind her. Mrs. Rothwell did the same with a large circle noting the time and date; again red flags. I should have run, I should have done something other than watch and wait for my terror to begin. I prayed I was wrong, I prayed that I was still asleep, and all had to do was wake up. But this was no dream.