IRIS, sunshine cole

[SUNSHINE COLE IRIS]

TAKE WHAT IS LEFT OF ME

AND MAKE IT A BEAUTIFUL MELODY

SUNSHINE COLE IRIS
YOU'D BE MY REMEDY

thirteen ,.,., fordham ,.,., spy ,.,., elle fanning
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The young girl sat staring unblinkingly at the woman seated across from her. Her eyes burned but she fought the urge to close them. This always freaked adults out, and made it a good way to immediately size up what she saw as the opposition. For as far back as she could remember, it had been like this. Teachers, social workers, therapists, counsellors… Everyone expected her to lay herself bare and tell them all her problems. Just because she was a kid didn't mean she was stupid. There was a game to be played and she had to win it. There was no other alternative.

This time though, her stare didn't seem to be making the other woman uncomfortable; instead, she just found her gaze being returned levelly. "Now… Sunshine," the woman finally spoke up, breaking the silence as she checked the name against her clipboard. At least she didn't dress like a social worker. That was good. Cole hated social workers worst of all.

"Cole," the girl corrected, still not breaking her gaze. "It's Cole."

The woman checked her clipboard again, frowning, and then jotted down a note. "Cole then," she agreed without breaking stride, as though it made no real difference to her if the girl preferred to go by her middle name. "Do you know why I'm here?"

Cole just shrugged. She could hazard a guess. Another fight at the group home, perhaps. Or the fact that she hadn't been to school for a few weeks. Or that escape attempt a month back. Maybe someone had found the paring knife she kept under her pillow for protection, in case a new kid thought her sweet baby face meant she was easy pickings. But Cole didn't mention any of these. She wasn't going to incriminate herself with guessing, and what was more, she didn't really care why the woman was here. She just wanted her gone.

The woman raised her eyebrows slightly but still didn't seem put off. That bothered Cole a little. Usually she could unsettle adults by being silent. "Well, let's just say that I'll be taking over your case from Miss Potter. Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" she suggested, her voice still smooth, her tone conversational.

That just made Cole even angrier. She wasn't scared or intimidated. She just didn't want any more of these people in her business. She remembered 'Miss Potter' or Kate as she'd always told Cole to call her. Like they were on a first name basis. Like they were friends. At least this woman wasn't trying to play that game. Although Cole found it a little weird that she hadn't given any name at all.

But what was Cole supposed to say? Her file would already contain the basics. How her father used to beat her mother so badly that she'd wound up in the hospital several times. How her mother had tried to leave him over and over, but had always ended up going back in the end. How her mother, still just a teenager herself, had started using drugs and alcohol to escape the pain. And how Cole had come to know a life of being in and out of state care as her mother would clean herself up a couple of times a year, only to fall back off the wagon at the first sign of difficulty.

Cole closed her eyes for a moment. She could perfectly picture the mix of typed and handwritten notes contained within the folder the woman had tucked in behind her pad of notepaper. Cole peeked at it every time she was left alone in a room with her records. You had to know what the enemy was thinking.

Her file, she knew, would go on to detail how her mother had disappeared when she was nine, and there was even a copy of the missing person's report to go along with the handwritten note of how child services had found Cole completely alone and abandoned when they'd stopped by to check up on her. Her father had gone to Vegas and left her without any food or money. Cole shared the police's suspicion that her mother was dead in a crack den somewhere, but she didn't see the point of getting into that. And since her father didn't seem inclined to fight for his parental rights, Cole had become a full ward of the state.

Her file, somehow, became even more colourful beyond that point. She had the face of an angel, people loved to tell her. And apparently foster families had been under the impression that she must have the attitude to match. Five times over two years she'd been picked out like a pound puppy and brought to someone's home, only to be sent back after they'd found her sullen and difficult. What the hell did they expect?

The first few times she'd been brought to a new home, she'd honestly thought maybe things would be better. She'd made an effort. She tried to remember to speak when her foster parents asked her things, and to make her bed, and to even let them think that she needed them. But after the second time she'd been returned for being defective, she'd learned better. She learned to stop trying, to stop letting people in, to stop even considering the idea of needing them.

But for some reason people kept picking her, kept trying to save her from the system, when the system had been the only consistent thing she'd ever known. She hated the nice ones even more than the mean ones. And the indifferent ones were best of all, since they mostly left her alone. But even when they were just in it for the money, she eventually became more trouble than it was worth, and then back to the group home she went.

The group home was hell of a different type, but she found herself preferring it. At least here there were rules and a pecking order. She knew where she stood and how to work within the system. And there were enough kids that usually the adults left her alone as long as she wasn't causing outright trouble. Problem was, too often it seemed like trouble found her instead.

And that was how Cole kept finding herself in situations like this, forced to talk to adults when she just wanted them to leave her alone. She was thirteen now, and old enough to look after herself, she thought. Really, she'd been looking after herself her whole life, because no one else seemed interested in doing it.

The woman cleared her throat and Cole opened her eyes again, but still kept her lips tightly shut, resisting the urge to ask questions. It was annoying her that this woman seemed almost impossible to rattle. She considered doing something unexpected, like standing up and screaming or ripping the clipboard from her hands, but in the end, she found herself just sitting there, and the two continued staring at one another in silence.

"That's all right, Cole. You don't have to tell me anything. I already know all about you," the woman continued, when it became clear the girl wasn't going to speak. Cole wasn't really surprised. The problem with being property of the state was how your entire life was open to constant scrutiny. But there was something about how this woman said it that piqued her interest, and she sat up slightly.

"Why don't I tell you a little bit about myself instead," the woman went on. It wasn't an unusual tactic. Several social workers and counsellors had tried to win her trust by pretending to confide in her. But again, there was something in the woman's tone that made Cole take notice. She drew her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her chin upon her bony knees, staring at the woman again. The woman, taking this as a sign to proceed, began to explain her purpose…

Sunshine Cole Iris was removed from state care following the conversation. She was not seen again, and her file disappeared into the ether.

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dee ,.,., too damn old ,.,., adminapproved ,.,., none

lyrics from sing it out; switchfoot
this little thing was made by
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