I Suppose...

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I Suppose…
Chapter 1
I wake up as the train comes to a rattling thumping bumpy squealing halt. I yawn and stretch feeling the lovely burro blanket quality thing they call a blanket make me itch in all new ways. 
My name is Jamie Marshall and I’m moving in with my brother here in Portland Oregon. I haven’t seen my older brother Steve in like I dunno forever I guess. He’s kinda a deadbeat too. He never had money to keep a phone and he had an e-mail address but it wasn’t a reliable way of keeping in touch with him. Honestly I’m not sure if he wanted to keep in touch with us. I was three when he left and I still sort of remember the fight he had with mom and dad. I found out later he was gay and my dad gave me strict orders to not turn out like my faggot brother.
I’m not sure I’m ever going to really forgive him for leaving me there with mom and dad. He wasn’t really physically abusive. Verbally oh yeah he was good at that. I wasn’t a big kid, I’m still not at about five foot five and about a buck twenty. Dad shoved me into weights and into tae kwon do. He tried to get me into sports and into teams but the only one I turned out to be good at was track.
Mom died leaving me really alone with him when I was nine and then he started drinking pretty heavy and things went from bad to worse as he pretty much drank away his job and then our savings and stuff. Our house became one of those houses that the white trash house with the junk in the yard and stuff. He did mechanic work when he could get it or he was sober and just about a month ago he killed himself and two other people when he was driving drunk and ran a red light hitting a tourist couple from the United States.
So family/social services came and took me out of my home and the house went up for sale to pay for dad’s funeral and stuff and there were a lot of debts so really I wasn’t left with a whole lot. I had almost been tossed into foster care when the social worker got a hold of my brother, or rather Stacy his girlfriend and when asked if they’d take me I heard that they had said after my situation had been laid out for them a few times…I suppose.
Thanks Bro, I’m about to be shoved into foster care and you…Suppose.
There’s nothing like hearing or rather overhearing something like that to make you feel really unwanted.
Dad did leave everything to me and social services made me paid for my train trip out. They wanted me to fly but I’m kind of scared of flying so after some arguing and stuff the rest is put into a trust that puts so much a month out into my bank account and the little bit I get as the recipient of dad’s pension. So I wasn’t completely broke but a hundred and fifty three dollars a month Canadian isn’t exactly a fortune. There’d be more through this death benefits thing once I got back into school until I turned twenty five. If I went to vocational school or college after I was eighteen. If I didn’t go on to more schooling after high school then they’d cut that extra money. I am going to do something after high school. I’m not going to turn out like my old man and as far as I know Steve. He was fifteen when he left the house, the same age as I am now. It’s been twelve years since I’ve seen my big brother.
I fold up the crappy blanket and set it with the pillow. These things are crap I guess so that no-one’s tempted to swipe them. I grab my back pack and my duffle bad and make my way off of the train. I don’t really have much other than the clothes on my back and a few odds and ends that I managed to keep or wanted to. Most of what we had was sold in the estate sale and we never had all that much anyway. 
Even here at the train station there’s security all hot and bothered to bug normal people so they get to feel all important and stuff. I was just a little kid when 911 happened but it just seems to me that for a lots of these guys they get to use it nowadays as an excuse; sorta a get to be an asshole free card.
I’m from out of the country and therefore I might be a terrorist. I’m taken off to the side and the go through my things and they’re not really nice about it and I’m a tad pissy because I really never wanted any of this and yet here I am reciting my life’s history to this guy I don’t know and it’s really none of my business and they even call to check about my ID’s and stuff.
There’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back. It could be worse as they took in some Hindi guy and his wife and took them into a different room. I swear I saw the security trolls eyes widen when he saw them and the thoughts …Yer brown, over-rode any common sense he might have had. I’ve barely gotten here and I hate this place. I repack all my stuff since they’re not required to fold or repack your stuff and I just shove everything back in angry and pissed at the world and make my way outside the station and look for Stacy.
I’m there about five minutes when I see a tall girl with a sign and my name on it in black marker. She’s a looker I guess if you ignore the tattoos on both her arms and the multitude of piercings in her ears; there’s at least six to eight there. She has them in her right eyebrow too and she has this short yet very hip kind of messy hairstyle and is wearing combat pants and a purple scoop necked Buckcherry t-shirt on that really shows off her DD breasts. Belly button stud with a red colored stone and you can see the red lace top of her thong just peeking from the low rise of her pants. Oh and a whole bunch of bangles on one wrist and a large cuff on the other plus a bunch of rings. 
Oh Yeah… this has to be Stacy my brother’s “girlfriend.” I look at her and the whole thing just screams lesbian or something like that. I walk up and might have said something snide or just sarcastic but as she see’s me she ruins the whole thing of that by just sort of biting her lower lip. I’m no any overly observant guy but that just screams nervous. I don’t know what Steve’s told her but when he left home it wasn’t likely a good time for him. He left underaged, or more likely dad threw him out of our house. I kind of stop in front of her and adjust my backpack and sweep some of my long skater hair out of my eyes. I offer my hand a bit awkwardly, I’ve never really been in a situation like this before. 
“Hi I’m Jamie, you’re Stacy?”
“Uhm Yeah, It’s nice to finally meet you. You got any more stuff?”
I stare at her, almost glare even. Nice to meet you? You guys agreed with so much enthusiasm… “Yeah…sure…”
She looks at me, hurt, confused by the ‘tude and maybe a bit angry. I look at her. “I Suppose…I’m ready to go.” She blanches getting what I’m saying and almost took a reflexive step back from me…? 
Hey, I’m the one who’s suppose to be the one that’s hurting, in worse off shape. There’s that word again… She takes my duffle from me and carries it outside to this kind of cool looking redone wood paneled Studebaker all tricked out with nice pain and rims and stuff. “Cool wheels.” She nods, puts my bag away, turned wiped at an errant tear. “Thanks.” she says.
We don’t say much as we drive; and drive through town to sort of the edge of town? We’re pulling into this beach side kinda in the tree place with a pre-fab log styled house with lot’s of trees around us or rather this place, there’s some moss on the trees and lichens on the house and I can see a garden or part of it and this pipe/hangar styled garage in the trees looking really old like from the 60’s or 70’s. And the other side of the lot has a big but homebuilt green house. There’s actually plants and stuff growing out of things all over the place. It’s like nothing I’m ever seen before. I guess it fits her though, half of her tattoo’s are flowers and stuff like that. She takes me to what might have been a kind of den? In the basement. 
“Here’s your room. I hope it’s okay.”
“It’ll be fine, Thanks. When’s Steve going to get here?” I go and set my stuff on the painted over brass bed. I sit looking things over and she let’s out a shaky scared sounding sigh and sits on the basement steps. She wipes at her eyes, messing her make up.
“Hey Little brother…”