Dialogue 1 - lesson 4

Assignment 4 -

John Wesley Addington:
11 years old - very pessimistic about the world - expects abuse - has been in the system for 9 years - mom tried to drown him. Thinks foster parents are only in it for the money and to abuse kids. Black hair - long and not combed, dark eyes - native american descent - not proven. Tall and thin.

John's goal is to survive. He has developed many survival skills in his nine years of foster care. Most of these involve avoiding attention (unless someone smaller/weaker needs his help), keeping his opinion to himself (except to defend others), trying not to expect anything good to happen to him, and observing his surroundings so as to avoid getting in trouble. He has also learned to use humour to survive by changing peoples moods. For all of his pessimistic attitude, John still has a small area in his heart that holds hope. He wants to be liked, craves warmth and love, and still thinks things may be better once he is grown up and away from foster care. He is intelligent and loves to learn. He sees education as his means of escape to a better future. He will read anything he can get his hands on, but especially loves fantasy. He dreams of being a hero to someone that will then love him and treat him nicely. He often sticks up for the underdog and is braver for others than he his for himself. He is loyal but not always honest. He has found lies to be useful sometimes to avoid getting hurt.

Clarice Marie Simpson (Lissy)
7 yrs old - very talkative, very curious. Small for her age due to being a preemie drug baby. Pale blond hair in spiral curl pig-tails. Pale blue eyes with dark lashes - very large in her small heart shaped face. Pale creamy skin. Small boned and decievingly delicate looking.

Lissy's main goal is to make the home a happy place. She is wise beyond her young years, due to both her difficult medical issues as a drug baby and her experience with the previous foster kids. She seems to have an understanding of human nature that is far older than a normal seven year old. At the same time she can revert to childish behavior as if a switch were turned off, causing her to forget her unusual wisdom. She is bubbly and vivacious by nature, preferring to see the positive in every situation. She tries to tie everyone together in a happy bond of love and acceptence. She is persistant. She is loyal and honest. She is insatiably curious, which sometimes gets her into trouble. If she is trying to understand something, she can be blind to the effects of her questions. She is intellegent. When she really thinks things through, the level of her perception and intellegence can be startling to others. Lissy loves animals and is a nurturer. She often collects strays, animals and people alike. If there is a problem, she enjoys helping you solve it. She is kind hearted, but will be fierce in protecting those she loves. And, due to her high intellegence and ability to solve problems very creatively, you wouldn't want to piss her off.
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This is part of a larger story involving an entire family of foster kids. John has just arrived and Lissy takes it upon herself to get him settled.
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John looked around the hall a bit before following Linda to the other room. He noted the six pairs of shoes neatly lined up under a row of hooks on the wall, with six coats of various sizes hung on them. Over the hooks were three picture frames, each with a cross stitch sampler displayed inside. The words "Home Sweet Home", "Waste not, Want not", and "Praise Him" did nothing to ease his suspicions. With a certain amount of resignation, he turned to go into the other room. Only to bump right into a little girl that he didn't even hear walk up behind him.

"Sorry! I was curious what was taking you so long, so I came out to see." She said brightly.

Standing there with her head cocked to one side, she regarded John with big blue eyes. Since she was pretty much staring at him, he didn't feel too bad staring right back. She was small, probably four or five years old, with long pale, blond, corks-screw pig tails tied up with blue ribbons. John's eyes narrowed a bit as he took in her appearance. She looked well-cared for and clean, too clean. She was probably one of the "real" kids.

"Well, do you want to put your stuff away?" She asked rather abruptly, but then softened it with a smile.

Lissy picked up one of John's bags and started up the stairs, giving him no choice but to follow. She started chattering immediately.

"The bedrooms are all on the second floor. There are three of them. I share with Jenny and you share with William. Mom and Dad have the other one, of course. Grandpa J lives in the attic, and only likes us to go up there if we're invited."

She stopped at the top of the stairs, which opened up to a wide landing lined with five doors. There were two windows, one on either end of the hall. Sunlight streamed in creating patterns on the floor from the many stained glass ornements hanging in front of them. John counted five in one window, and six in the other.

"Now there will be six in each." Lissy said, seeing John looking at them.

"What? Why?" He asked, not sure if she was talking about the ornements or something else entirely.

"You're here now. Dad always makes a new ornement when someone new comes. There's one for each kid." She smiled up at him as if that explained everything.

"Ahh. OK. That would be 12. Where are the rest of the kids?" He wasn't really sure he wanted to know. It could be bad, but probably not any worse than what he had already seen.

"All grown up, of course!" She laughed at his serious expression. "They have homes of their own now, and some are still in college. I haven't met all of them, but..."

John didn't really hear the rest of what she said next. He was still reeling from the word college. He had always been told that it was not meant for foster kids. Time and time again he had heard how worthless he was, and to forget dreams of college. Where would a foster kid get the money, and who would pay for a stupid, foster kid to waste time on education? John knew it was expensive. He had looked up the tuition online at school once for the local university. It was over 10,000 dollars per year.

"Hey, hello!" Sang Lissy in a high voice, stretching out the o for several syllables. John shook his head, and blinked at her, realizing he had missed everything she had just said.

"I was telling you where your room is." She said, frowning at him.

John started to say he was sorry, it's never a good idea to piss off a "real" kid, they only get even with you later, when she interrupted him with a giggle.

"Just kidding. I'm not mad. Boy, you're serious. Almost as bad as William, but not quite. That's who you share the room with, William. He's 14 and soooo serious. I've never even seen him smile." She started walking to the first door across the hall, next to one of the windows.

"This is your room. Two doors down is mine and Jenny's room, with the bathroom in between. Across from my room is Mom and Dad's. They have their own bathroom in there, so we get this one to ourselves."

John did some quick math, two up here, and probably one downstairs.

"So, there are three bathrooms?" He asked.

Lissy stopped, with her hand on the doorknob, and looked over her shoulder at him.

"Well, no." She said, as she turned all the way around to face him squarely. He looked down, a little surprised at her intent expression.

"Actually, Grampa J has one in the attic, and there is one in the basement, too. Well, almost anyway, it's not finished yet. The basement one, that is. Why?" She cocked her head again, studying his face. "Why do you want to know how many bathrooms there are? Do you pee alot?"

"Um, er, no." He said, turning red. "Um, I was just curious." He lied, groaning inwardly. Five bathrooms! Five bathrooms meant five toilets, five sinks, and probably five bathtubs. For as long as he could remember, he had scrubbed bathrooms. For as long as he could remember, he could never quite scrub them well enough. Last time, Mrs. Portman stood over him with her yardstick, screaming about the hair she found in the bottom of the tub. One hair had made it hard to walk for a week. She liked the feet. It didn't show that way.

Lissy's expression changed immediately with his words. Lighting up her whole face, she smiled up at him.

"Oh, I am always curious. I can't help it." She laughed. "Mom says I ask so many questions in school, I wear my teachers out."

"You're in school?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm seven. I know, I'm small." She turned back to the door, and started to go in. "I was a preemie because my mom did drugs..."

John tuned her out again as he walked into what was going to be his room. He looked around appraising it quickly. It was bigger than he expected, with two beds instead of the dreaded bunks. He hated sleeping on the top bunk, but the bottem could be worse if you had a bed wetter up top. The beds weren't new, or even matching, but they looked comfortable. There were side tables next to the beds, two dressers, and two desks with chairs. All was arranged so that each person had a feeling of their own space. It was, by far, the nicest room John had ever been allowed to use. It was easy to see which bed was to be his, the other one had books and clothes on it. He quickly crossed the room, and started to put things away. Lissy had continued chattering about this and that, when something she said finally registered in his mind.

"Wait a minute." He interrupted her. "You were a preemie because your mom used drugs? Does she still use them?" John tried to remember the woman who answered the door. She didn't look like a druggie, but you never knew. He didn't want to be in another drug house no matter how nice the bedroom looked.

"What? Oh, I don't know. I haven't seen her. I don't even remem...Oh," she exclaimed, finally understanding. "Oh, no... Mom isn't my real mom. It was my real mom that used drugs. I call Mom 'Mom' because I've been here so long. No one wanted a preemie, drug baby with so many problems except Mom and Dad. They're all I've ever known."

"You're a foster kid? And you've only had one foster family?" Surprise and disbelief made John stare at her, again noting her well-cared for appearance.

"Yes, and it's Jenny's first foster family, too. I think William has had alot, though. He won't talk about it. In fact, don't expect him to talk to you at all, at first. It took him three months to say good morning to Mom." She was chattering brightly again. "So, how many homes have you had?"

She looked at him expectantly, totally oblivious to John's discomfort.

"Um, 13," he mumbled, looking away quickly. When she didn't say anything, he reluctantly glanced back at her, anticipating pity in her eyes. She was staring at him quietly, her cheeks reddened.

"That was mean of me." She said softly. "Mom says I chatter too much, and I don't always think first. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you that." Her lip quivered a little.

"Well, hey. I was beginning to wonder if you were even a kid. You seem older. It's good to know you make mistakes, too." He grinned at her, trying to lighten the mood. He definately didn't want her to start crying on him. She may not be a "real" kid, but she was a favorite. He still needed to tread lightly. It worked. He was relieved when she grinned back at him.

"Yeah, Dad thinks I have an old soul, what ever that means. Hey, we should get downstairs, if you're through putting stuff away. Dinner's probably ready." Lissy turned toward the door.

"I'll follow you." John said, getting ready to do just that when she stopped, turned back to him, and looked at him, cocking her head to one side again.

"You know, I like you. I think you're going to do just fine." With that she whirled around, and slipped through the door, leaving John wondering what he was going to 'do just fine.'