2. Kim
2
KIM
Kim
S ix weeks earlier…
“Fuck!” I shout, almost falling down the stairs.
I grab onto the railing to stop myself just in time. It’d be just my luck to break my ankle right after my audition, all because I stubbed my toe.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I eye the rest of the hall before approaching my door. After seeing that it’s empty, I stick my key into the lock.
I hate people seeing what apartment I’m walking into, just in case. So usually if someone’s around, I’ll just keep walking and then loop back once they’re gone.
In my experience, you can never be too careful.
Once I’m in my apartment, I feel slightly better- but barely. I still have no idea if I’ll be picked. Setting my bag down on the ground, I plop onto my stiff, secondhand couch and close my eyes.
In my head, I picture the routine I did. The looks on the judges’ faces while I was dancing. They had the perfect poker faces, not one emotion coming through.
“Girl, you killed it,” one of the other girls told me once I finished.
“Thanks, so did you!”
That was about all the compliments I got. The rest of the girls were so nervous they looked like they were gonna pass out at any second.
I didn’t realize becoming an ice girl was such a sought-after position. But I guess the Washington Wolverines have been playing really well the past couple years, and so all the girls are dying for any chance to be closer to them.
I honestly couldn’t care less about them. They’re hot, but I have way too much to lose here. With a minor in dancing, this is going to be the best way for me to fund what I really want to study- astronomy.
If I don’t get in, I’ll be hauling my ass to the Wendy’s down the street every day at 5am. No offense to Wendy’s, but I’d really rather not.
Eventually, I lift my stiff body up off the couch, eyeing my apartment. It’s tiny, with only one bedroom that is honestly more like a slightly large closet. It stinks, no matter how much I clean it. The carpet is gross and scratchy under my feet. The kitchen cabinets smell like stale cigarette smoke.
But it’s better than nothing. That’s what I remind myself any time I start feeling down about it. I could be out there on the streets, like half the people I went to highschool with. At least I have a bed to call my own at night.
And at least it’s safe.
Just as I’m about to walk into the kitchen to heat up some dinner, my phone buzzes in my bag. I drop to the ground, tearing my bag open and shoving my hand in. When I finally find it, I press the answer call button and shoot to my feet.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Kim Daniels?”
“Yes, this is she.”
“Hi Kim, I’m with United Healthcare and I’d love to talk to you about-”
“Oh, fuck off!”
I jam my finger onto the screen to disconnect the call, letting out a long sigh. They said we would hear back by the end of the day, and it’s already been two hours since I left, so it could be any minute now.
“Stupid spam callers,” I mumble.
I slip my phone into my back pocket and start towards the kitchen again. Thanks to my nerves, I’m nowhere near hungry, but I know that if I don’t eat at least something, I’ll pass out. Dancing is no joke, and I’ve been practicing nonstop all week for today’s audition.
My fridge is depressing, and so are my cupboards. I can’t even remember the last time I went grocery shopping.
Pursing my lips, my eyes flit between the pack of chicken ramen noodles, and the Salisbury steak frozen dinner. Both look equally unappetizing.
After a minute, I rip open the ramen noodle pack. At least I can add some seasonings to this to make it edible. The Salisbury steak on the other hand… Well, what you see is what you get. There’s really no changing that shit after months of being frozen.
A few minutes later, my noodles are heating up. Out of habit, I start going through my dance routine.
Left foot out, right hand up and out to the side. Then bring both back in. Left foot out again, then sweep it across the ground as I spin to the side.
I freeze mid spin, hearing a scuffle. A grunt comes right after. I hold my hair away from my ears so I can hear better, while creeping up to my apartment door.
One peek out of the peephole tells me everything I need to know. I clasp a hand over my mouth and take a step back.
“I saw your feet under the door, dumbass.”
My heart races, and I jump back as he pounds on the door.
“I know you’re in there, open the fuck up.”
I have no idea how he found me. I’ve been so careful since I moved, and none of our siblings know my new address. Even if they did, they wouldn’t tell him.
He keeps pounding, and it sounds like he’s body checking the door with all of his weight. My hands start to tremble at the thought of him getting inside.
I look around my apartment, trying to find something I could use to defend myself. I know how to fight, but I know I’m not stronger than Nate.
My eyes land on my bag, which contains a bottle of mace and a taser. I rush and grab it, before inching back towards the door.
“Go away, Nathan! I have a taser, and I’m not alone!”
“Oh, she speaks! It’s good to hear your voice, big sis! How’ve you been?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, pounding on the door again.
“I’ll call the police, Nathan. I’m sure you have a warrant out for your arrest, so do you really want to get caught?”
“Come on, Kim, don’t be like that. Let’s not get nasty, okay?”
“You shouldn’t be here!”
“Neither should you, big sis. Abandoning your family? I thought you cared about all your little brothers.”
I swallow, the guilt I shouldn’t feel rising up in me at his words. All three of their faces flash in my mind. I do care about them, and I see them almost every day. I just couldn’t live there anymore, especially not with Nathan always coming around.
“That’s what I thought,” he says, letting out a terse laugh. “You always were the selfish one.”
Also not true. But it sucks hearing anyways.
“Nathan, I’m not fucking kidding. You need to leave, right now.”
There’s silence on the other end, and I’m afraid he’s going to body check the door again. When he doesn’t, I look through the peephole again.
Nathan is still there, staring right at me through the hole. He has an eerie smile pasted on his face, one that makes me wish I was far, far away from here.
“Don’t worry big sis, I’ll be back. You can’t stay out of the family business forever.”
He stares for a moment longer before turning around and leaving. I wait until I hear his footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs before running to my window and peeking out through a slit in the blinds. Only when I see him walk out of the building do I let myself relax.
My hand rests on my chest as I calm myself down. Nathan is a huge reason why I got this apartment. That, and it’s awfully hard to focus on your studies living in a house with three, sometimes four of your siblings.
Nathan is the second oldest, only a year younger than me. Braden is a year younger than him, at twenty years old. And my other brothers are seventeen and sixteen.
They live on the opposite side of the Capital One arena from me, in a neighborhood just as shitty. Both of our parents are dead, so we were mostly raised by our grandma. But she’s old now, and she can barely handle taking care of the two youngest ones.
Luckily, Avery and Zander are in high school. It’s the only reason why I felt comfortable enough to move out. But sometimes I do feel guilty. They still have to see Nathan.
Though, I guess so do I.
Nathan fell into a bad path when we were in highschool. He dropped out when he was a sophomore, thinking he could do better selling drugs on the streets. And since then, he never really stopped.
He was in juvie for a few months when he was seventeen, and then he went to jail when he was nineteen. After a year, he got out and was even worse than before. Now, he won’t stop trying to get me and my siblings to join him in his activities .
My other brothers have no interest in joining him, and neither do I. But that doesn’t stop him from trying.
The dream is for me to one day be able to afford a place big enough for the four of us. We could move out of Washington D.C., to somewhere he could never find us. We’d be free, and then maybe we’d have a fighting chance at a better life.
I glance over at the stove, where my pot of noodles is still heating up.
“God fucking damnit!” I shout, running across the room. The pot is boiling over, having been left unattended for too long. I turn off the heat and then rest against the counter opposite the stove.
It’s getting really hard not to let this day get to me. It’s just one thing after another, and I fear for what I’ll do if this phone call turns out to be bad news. I just don’t know how much more I can take.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the number this time. It’s a 202 area code- it has to be them. After taking a deep breath, I answer.
“Hello?”