Part 26

Alex pulled away from me a little so that he could look at me. "You are?" The question wasn't cruel or incredulous. It was kind and soft. There was a hint of surprise in his question, but I expected that to be there.

"Yeah, I am. The thing is, I wasn't supposed to know. I found out by accident. And aside from me and my 'parents', you're the only person who knows." I said parents with air-quotations because now I could say the truth: they aren't my real parents.

Alex gave me a small smile, placed his arm over my shoulders, and guided me forward. "I've told you several stories about me and my family, but you've never told me about yourself."

"Why would you want to know about me? I'm boring as hell. I don't have any fun stories about myself. My life's not that interesting. I wouldn't know what to say."

"It's not about the story itself. It's how you tell it. You can either make it a factual account of what happened, and bore your listener to death, or sprinkle the facts throughout your story and make the listener determine for themselves what's true and what's been altered or added all together. I've heard historians use this technique to get kids interested in history."

"Really? That makes a lot of sense though."

"Anyways, if that tactic helps you, then use it. But if the story is an already interesting one, then just tell it straight-forward."

I took a deep breath in and sighed. "OK." It had been several years since I thought about the fact that they weren't my parents. Some of my classmates had picked up on this subtle hatred that I had towards them, but it didn't stay too long. Soon after, I began to hide it, and although a few were suspicious, they never questioned me about it. I even lied to the teacher, because I didn't want her to have any leverage over me, which I strengthen by saying that they were my parents in my mind. At the time, I thought that she was a mind reader, so I kept my thoughts occupied with this lie that I had fabricated for years. I took another deep breath and began my story.

"I found out when I was 7. So, I've known for a decade now. My 'parents' had just tucked me in, but I had trouble falling asleep. After about 10 minutes of tossing and turning, I got up to use the bathroom. Our bathroom is pretty close to our rooms, so I didn't have to walk very far. When I was going back to my room, I heard hushed voices. My 'parents' had told me a few times to never eavesdrop on a private conversation, but they never told me why: because private conversations almost always include something that can hurt someone, whether it's a piece of information, or a plan to either end their lives or make it living hell. Anyways, their warning flew out of my head. I slowly crept to the living room, where I stayed behind the wall separating the dining room from the living room. I could've gotten closer, but I was not a reckless child like most people."

"So most people are reckless?" I was stunned by Alex's question for a moment, but I recovered fairly quickly.

"Are you saying that you weren't?"

"Oh no, I was totally a reckless child, but I think that it's unfair to rope people that you've never met into this category."

"I thought you said to not let facts hinder my storytelling." I gave him a side smile, and I could see him fumble for a comeback. Finally, he gave a sigh and started clapping.

"Alright, I admit it. That was a good one. I'll let you have that one."

I gave him my signature look, which was the only expression I allow myself to show.

"Since when has anyone given me anything?" I could see him starting to explain, but I knew that if I let him go on his tangent, I would forget where I had stopped in my story. "Never mind. You made me forget where I paused."

"You apparently not being a reckless child."

"Right. Thank you. Anyways, while I was behind the wall, I could hear voices. I recognized the voices of the people who raised me, but there was one voice that I couldn't recognize. I thought of all the people that I had met through my guardians, but none of them sounded familiar. But one of the things that they said drew me out of my thoughts and has stuck with me." I took a deep breath again and slowly exhaled. I hadn't thought about this in years. I didn't like to dwell on it, and there was no point in thinking about it since my real parents hadn't bothered to come back.

Alex placed his hand on my shoulder, and we stopped walking. I lowered my head, thinking about the worst day of my life. I then heard him say, "If you don't want to continue, you don't have to. I didn't realize how hard this would be for you."

I wanted to take him up on his offer, but I knew that if I stopped talking about it, I wasn't going to want to talk about it again. So instead of taking him up on his offer, I told him that I would continue to share my story. I was about to continue when a strange noise filled the tunnel. Its sudden appearance froze us for a moment before I began to relax. I started to follow the sound when Alex grabbed my wrist. "What are you doing?" He whispered/shouted to me, but I had a weird feeling like I'd heard that sound before.

"It's ok. I recognize that sound." And it was true. After a few seconds, I realized that the sound was my guardians' broken washing machines, which they refused to replace. Wait, this tunnel led to home? I broke free of Alex's grip and began to run. I could hear Alex calling out behind me, but I didn't care. I was so homesick, and I really wanted to see my guardians again, even if they weren't my parents. They treated me so well that sometimes I forgot that I wasn't their daughter, and I just wanted to feel that again.