Lucifer's Children Read online

  One school year. It seemed like a lifetime. Another lifetime.

  “Yes, Mr. Henning. I like it.”

  “Great. We’re glad to have you here.”

  “Welcome home,” Mrs. Henning said.

  “Can I show her my room now?” Amy said.

  “Yes, you can show her your room. And then let Amanda put away her things.” To Amanda Mr. Henning said, “Mrs. Durant had the rest of your clothes delivered. They’re in boxes, stacked in the closet, along with your personal items.” Mr. Henning placed a hand on Amanda’s shoulder. “Are you coping well with your loss?”

  “Yes, sir. I wish Mr. and Mrs. Clark hadn’t had that automobile accident, but all things considered, I’m doing okay.”

  “Good to hear.”

  “Yes, child,” Mrs. Henning added. “Life goes on.”

  A frown covered Amy’s face. “Can I show her my room now?”

  “Yes, enough of this talk. Go see your new sister’s room.”

  “Great!”

  Amanda placed her backpack just inside the door to her own room, then followed Amy. The space appeared more juvenile than her own. Amy’s much larger room had been decorated in pink, with a border circling the room in bears and balloons. Pictures of clowns and cute furry animals lined the walls in cartoonish childishness.

  “See, there’s Barbie’s Dream House and her cars and my dolls and my stuffed animals and my …”

  The little girl’s voice droned on as Amanda gaped at the obviously expensive collection of dolls and stuffed animals nearly as tall as Amy herself. Amanda imagined the room hadn’t been changed since Amy was a baby, with the exception of a full-size bed instead of crib; however, the room looked much too fresh to have been left unchanged in so many years.

  “Do you like to play with Barbies?” Amy asked, drawing Amanda back into the conversation.

  “Yes, sometimes.”

  “Great. I have six Barbie dolls, and a Ken. We could play now. Or we could doctor my bears.” Amy laughed. “They’re always breaking their arms and legs, they are so clumsy.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Amanda said. “I’d like to unpack first. Perhaps we can play later.”

  “Neat. I’m gonna like having a big sister.”

  “And I believe I will enjoy having a younger sister. I had a younger sister named Leanne. She was a little older than you. She was fourteen,” Amanda said, fishing for Amy’s age.

  “I’m eleven,” Amy said.

  Amanda smiled. “Eleven is a great age.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Not as neat as seventeen, I bet, but pretty neat. So, wanna play Barbies?”

  “Later, I said.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Amy wrapped her arms around Amanda and hugged her tight. Her cheek pressed against Amanda’s chest. The little girl’s hair carried a scent of cotton candy. Once Amy had let go, Amanda retreated to her room and shut the door. Tears welled in her eyes as she meticulously unpacked first her backpack and then each of her boxes. She had never loved the Clarks, including Leanne, but then, being a foster child, she had never felt emotionally attached to anyone. She longed for that type of attachment but knew she wouldn’t find it here with the Henning family. She was finishing with the last box, with no intention of leaving her bedroom until she had to, when Amy came knocking at the door.

  The little girl wanted her to play with her Barbie dolls. Amanda reluctantly agreed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Amy and Amanda played in Amy’s room for hours. Each controlled their own Barbie dolls, and Amanda had a Ken doll, on Amy’s insistence. Amy also insisted upon their names. Of course there was Barbie, which belonged to Amy. The others were named Barb, Barbara, and even Arbie, names Amanda found too similar and somewhat odd but she played along.

  As they played Amy provided the storyline, a plot which consisted of Barbie and Ken dating and eventually marrying, all the while Barbie confiding in her friends Barb and Barbara how wonderful her suitor, in his pink Corvette, was. Meanwhile, Arbie attempted to throw a wrench in their courtship.

  Amanda didn’t mind the little girl supplying the narrative. Primarily because her heart wasn’t in the game. Sure, she believed she would get along fine with her new “sister.” But since the untimely and completely unexpected accident which had left her homeless, Amanda had found herself sleeping a lot and keeping to herself. A family had temporarily taken her in until a more permanent foster home could be arranged. If you could call a little less than a year a permanent home.

  Amanda longed to return to her room and escape into a book. Perhaps she would find more of a selection in the study. School had yet to start and she didn’t know where the city library was located. Until then, she might start reading The Wizard of Oz series. She had some money saved from the allowance Mr. Clark had given her for doing chores and receiving good grades. Money she planned to save to the penny, unlike Leanne Clark, who spent every last penny almost as soon as she earned it. Mrs. Clark had always told Amanda how grown-up and responsible she behaved, unlike other girls her age. She so desperately wanted to be out on her own, everything else could wait until then. Her eighteenth birthday. The day she truly began to live.

  “Amanda. Did you hear me?” Amy said.

  No, her mind had wandered. “Sure. Something about the Dream House.”

  “No. I said Ken should get the Jeep and then …”

  Approaching footsteps caught Amanda’s attention. Mr. Henning rapped knuckles on the door frame as his smiling face peered into the room. “How are you two getting along?” he said.

  “Super. Amanda is fun to play with.”

  “I bet she is.” Mr. Henning’s gaze glided to Amanda. “You letting Amy call the shots?”

  “Perhaps a little.”

  “Well, I’m glad things are going so well. It’s almost time for dinner. Put away your toys and go wash up. Your mother is waiting for you to help her set the table.”

  “But we’re going to play again after dinner. Right, Amanda?”

  “I’m sure Amanda would like some time of her own. Now put away your toys.”

  Amy stood up frowning. She turned abruptly on her heels, and said, “Not fair.”

  Mr. Henning reached out so quickly, his movement took Amanda aback. His hands shot to Amy’s sides, fingers wiggling. They crawled under her hoodie, causing it to ride up and sending the little girl into a fit of giggles. Her legs bent and only after she had collapsed into a fetal position did he relent with his tickling. Once the giggling had subsided, Amy repeated, “Not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair. You’ll learn that as you get older. Right, Amanda?”

  “Yes, sir.” Not fair at all.

  It only took a moment to place the dolls back into their Dream House. Amanda parked the cars where they had been when they started playing. Mr. Henning supervised the quick clean-up effort. When Amy stuck her tongue out at him on the way out of the room, her father playfully swatted her bottom, thus prompting her to step up the pace.

  “Wash your hands,” he reminded her. Amy darted into the bathroom. “Amanda, I’d like a moment to speak with you.” He gestured her into her own room, where he closed the door behind them.

  Amanda turned to face her foster father.

  He led with a considerate smile. “I appreciate your catering to Amy, I really do. This is your home now too, though.”

  “Yes, I know. I wanted to.”

  “I’m sure you’re overwhelmed right now. That’s understandable. Anyone would be. Mrs. Henning will have some chores for you tomorrow. Not a lot. Some. Amy has her share of chores. We have a large house and taking care of everything, along with her volunteer work, well, you can see how your new foster mother could use some help around the house.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve always taken care of my chores. School work, too. I’m a very good cook, and I’m sure you and Mrs. Henning will be impressed with my performance. I promise.”

  “Amanda, Amanda … The p
oint I wanted to make is this: Tonight belongs to you. I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything. There will be time for that later. Amy usually watches television with us for an hour or so in the evening. I’m sure she will try to convince you to play with her after dinner. What would you like to do, Amanda?”

  Amanda glanced at the bookshelf on the wall, looked back at Mr. Henning, dropped her gaze to the floor.

  “Go on, tell me.”

  “I enjoy reading, Mr. Henning.” To emphasize her point, she took the first Wizard of Oz book at the far left of the series and slid it off the shelf. “I want to read this.” She flashed him the front cover.

  “Good choice. I wish Amy would read more. I’ll make it clear to her not to disturb you after dinner. At least not for an hour or so.” He winked as he squeezed her shoulder.

  “Thank you.” She set the book down on the bed.

  “Look at your hair,” Mr. Henning said. “So long, so blonde, so beautiful. Do you wear it in a ponytail often?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said as he reached out to run fingers through its length.

  * * *

  They arrived downstairs to find the table set and food waiting. Amanda, too nervous to eat much, took a little of everything but not much of anything. She always cleared her plate, as was expected of her. She picked at the chicken, green beans, and salad on her plate, which she had spritzed with oil and vinegar.

  “I like origami chicken,” Amy stated before forking a large chunk into her mouth.

  “You mean organic chicken,” Mrs. Henning corrected her daughter.

  Amy nodded enthusiastically.

  “And soy milk,” Amy said.

  “Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Mr. Henning said.

  Amanda had simply requested water to drink. Mrs. Henning had poured her a glass from a bottle of Perrier.

  “Do you like your food?” Mrs. Henning asked Amanda.

  “Very much, thank you. I’m just not very hungry, but I’ll finish it all.”

  “We try to eat healthy,” Mr. Henning said.

  “We eat origami,” Amy said.

  “Your sister is just trying to be silly.”

  “She’s showing off a little,” Mr. Henning added.

  “We eat organic food as much as possible. There’s a farmer’s market downtown and on campus each Saturday. What we can’t get there we buy at Whole Foods Market.”

  “There are so many pesticides used in farming today. And hormones used in livestock,” Mr. Henning said. “I’m sure you’ve heard all this before.”

  “Yes, sir. Not that I know much about it, but, yes, I’ve heard about hormones and livestock mistreatment.”

  “Hormones make your boobs big,” Amy said and then laughed, amused with herself.

  “Amy, that will be enough.”

  “What she’s trying to say is,” Mr. Henning clarified, “the same hormones used to promote growth in livestock find their way into the food chain. That’s why girls today reach puberty sooner than they used to.”

  “That’s correct,” Mrs. Henning said. “Girls blossom into women well before they should.”

  “And they get big boobs.” Amy grinned.

  “Enough of this talk. Amanda, we understand you are a straight-A student.”

  “Yes, sir.” Amanda didn’t care for all this attention; however, she knew that until they got to know her better, she would remain the topic of conversation.

  “And you’re very smart, or so we’ve been told.”

  “Perhaps you can help Amy with her schoolwork, once school resumes in a couple of weeks.”

  “Aw … Really?” Amy said. “Only a couple more weeks ‘til school?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Mr. Henning smirked. “You’re going to enjoy Monarch Preparatory School, though, Amanda. It’s right here on campus. You probably noticed the buildings on your way here.”

  “Yes, I did. But I didn’t know what they were.” She just knew that they looked old and reminded her of castles, with their stonework and creeping ivy climbing the walls. She shivered at the thought of attending class inside those hallowed halls.

  “You’ll walk to school each morning—”

  “With me,” Amy interjected.

  “—and the campus and classes are set up more like college than high school. In fact, not only are there buildings dedicated for math, gymnasium, library, and general education halls, there are also a few buildings for grade school and kindergarten. It’s truly a great place to learn.”

  Amy said, “You’re just saying that because you run the place.”

  “Your father is just one of the administrators,” Mrs. Henning said.

  Mr. Henning shrugged. “Monarch Prep School is a great place to learn, with or without me.”

  “But it is much better with you.” Mrs. Henning smiled at her husband.

  “Yes. Yes, it is,” he said. “The finest private school in America, if not the world.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “School is school.”

  Mr. Henning winked at Amanda. “Don’t listen to Amy. You’re going to enjoy it.”

  “I’m sure I will,” said Amanda.

  “If there is anything you want to know about campus, just ask.”

  Amanda felt prompted to materialize a question. She blurted the first thing that came to mind. “What about all the houses on campus like yours?”

  “Oh, yes. Those belong to some of the other administrators and more tenured teachers. We are truly a tight-knit family here at Monarch Prep. Perhaps you’ll meet some of the other students who live on campus before school starts. If not, you’ll make plenty of friends after.”

  “Can we talk about something besides school now?” Amy asked.

  “Sure.”

  The topic of conversation drifted to things that didn’t center around Amanda, which came as a relief. With attention redirected to other things she was able to finish her meal. She paced herself so as not to clean her plate first, but only moments after Amy.

  “May I be excused?” Amy asked.

  “Just as soon as you’ve helped clear the table,” her mother said.

  Amanda pitched in without having to be asked.

  “Want to play dolls?” Amy asked her.

  Mr. Henning answered for Amanda on his way out of the kitchen. “Give Amanda some alone time. She wants to read, and besides, I need to see you once you are finished helping your mother.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Minutes later Amanda sighed with relief as she shut her bedroom door behind her. She went to her bed planning to sprawl out and begin reading the book she had selected but it wasn’t where she remembered leaving it.

  She found it lying on the desk. And her hand trembled as she picked it up.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The week passed slowly. Mrs. Henning advised Amanda of her chores, and between Amy and herself they were to keep their bedrooms and bathroom clean, assist with laundry, and help prepare meals, in addition to vacuuming and dusting the downstairs. As Mrs. Henning quickly learned, Amanda offered her new foster parents no problems when it came to following the rules. And although many older sisters might lord their seniority over siblings, blood-relative or not, in order to shirk their responsibilities, Amanda didn’t. If anything she performed a bulk of the work herself, in an attempt to quickly and efficiently get it done. Not only that, she motivated Amy to keep busy, to significantly help. Mrs. Henning had commented on that twice already.

  Within several days Amanda had earned her new guardians’ trust, something she desperately needed if she wanted a part-time job. Now she just needed to demonstrate an ability to stay on top of her schoolwork. Of course she could go ahead and confront them with her request, but she had decided to wait until they couldn’t say no.

  When not busy with chores she played games with Amy in the little girl’s room. Each day, though, Amanda insisted on having alone time to read. And daydream.

  But today would be different. Today she needed to get her school
uniform.

  A scent of summer delighted Amanda’s senses as she stepped outside the house. A scent of freedom in the form of flower-garden perfume wafting across campus. It was the first time she had been outside the house alone. Well, almost alone …

  “I hate having to wear a uniform,” Amy said, taking her foster sister by the hand as they started along the sidewalk.

  “I’m not thrilled with the idea either, but it can’t be so bad.”

  “They’re hideous. Just wait until you see.”

  Oh great.

  “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

  “Sure, I’m sure, silly. They always have them at the gym. And they are always hideous.”

  “You’re the one being silly,” Amanda said. “A fancy prep school such as this wouldn’t have a hideous uniform. Are you trying to tell me it’s puke green?”

  “No.” Amy swung Amanda’s arm. “But it’s ugly, ugly, ugly.”

  “An ugly brown like dog poo?” Amanda teased.

  “No. They’re black and red and white.”

  “Ugly like a checker board?”

  “No, but we should play checkers when we get home.”

  “Maybe,” Amanda said, planning to take her sweet time before returning. They had already finished their chores for the day, with the exception of helping with dinner, a task not due for many hours. “The library wouldn’t be open, by chance, would it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we will find out.”

  As they walked Amanda took in the sights. Girls of varying ages occupied themselves by playing in the residential area: tag, jump-rope, bike riding, hopscotch on the sidewalk while a young girl wrote with colored chalk on the concrete.