FicWad

Most fairy tales aren't true. We tell them as a way to cope with our own pathetic lives. It all depends on your point of view. But here are the facts, life is no fairy tale, no matter how it may seem. You can't wish away a tragedy by just clicking your heels. You have to get through it; one way or another.

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I sat on the couch with Pete, Joe, and Andy, staring at the folder that lay unopened on the coffee table in front of us.
"Well, ya gonna open it?" Joe asked, breaking the silence.
I reached for it hesitantly. I picked it up and just stared at it. I was almost afraid to open it.
"Patrick, what in the hell could have possibly possessed you to adopt a kid?" Pete asked. I glared at him before opening the file.
Kendall Rae Steele. Shit. A girl. The rest of her file was full of insignificant facts about her; birthday, likes, dislikes, medical record, things like that. Only one thing left to do, and God did I dread it, I had to go get her. Looking at my watch I sighed, almost three.
Pete clapped me on the shoulder, "I'd love to stick around for all the fun, but I have things to see and people to do."
He stood up and started for the door. I gave him one last glance, begging him with my eyes to help me. At least I still had Andy and Joe.
"You guys are coming aren't you?" I asked.
"Uh..." Andy glanced at Joe, then at his watch, "Ah look at the time! The thing! At the place! We uh, we gotta get going!"
"We're almost late!" Joe added, standing up and hurrying towards the door. Great. This is not something I wanted to do alone.

I pulled in the parking lot of the decrepit old orphanage and parked. This place looked about as old as Chicago itself. A little girl stood on the stoop holding a duffel bag. That must be her, I thought to myself, looking her over. She was blond and fair skinned. She looked small, almost malnourished. I walked up the stoop of the building and found myself face to face with her, "Kendall Steele?" I asked her.
She looked up, "Me," she squeaked.
"I ah, I," I stumbled over my words, I'd never adopted a kid before. I wasn't sure of what to say, "I'm here to adopt you."
She sighed, analyzing my appearance, "You're my new dad? The agency must really be getting desperate." Oh God another Pete.
I didn't reply, instead I walked into the building and signed the adoption forms, Kendall following close behind. We walked back out to the car and tossed her bags in the trunk. She slipped into the backseat and pulled a tissue out of her pocket. With a look of disgust she sifted through the food wrappers and various garbage items before finally finding the seatbelt and strapping in.
"Afraid of garbage are we?" I asked with a chuckle.
"Hey if you wanna pick up bacterial meningitis or polio you by my guest," She said, carefully placing the tissue back in her pocket.
I sighed, "So Kendall tell me about yourself,"
She thought for a moment, "I'm Kendall. And I'm eight," She replied shortly, "And you are?"
"Patrick Stump. Twenty Four."
The rest of the ride was silent and awkward, I knew I'd made a mistake. But how bad could things possibly go? She's an eight year old. How much trouble could she be? At the moment I had no idea just how much trouble she really would be.

Finally we pulled into my driveway. I got out of the car and walked around to the trunk. I grabbed her bags and carried them to the front door. Kendall walked silently a few feet behind. I unlocked the door and Pete's dog, Hemingway, rushed up to greet us. He sniffed Kendall friendly, though she seemed a little perturbed. She looked from the dog to me, "Pete's dog," I explained, "Pete lives in the spare room."
She nodded in understanding.
"Your room," I said, walking down the small hallway, "Is right here." I handed her her bags and opened the door for her, "Need me to help you with anything?"
She shook her head. She seemed shy, though, as I had already seen, had quite the mouth on her.

Twenty minutes later I sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper when Kendall appeared in the doorway.
"Finished unpacking?" I inquired, looking up from my paper.
"Uh huh."
I glanced at the clock: half an hour to band practice. The guys would be here soon.
I stood up, "I gotta head on out to the garage, I'm in a band and we have practice pretty soon. You wanna come?"
She simply nodded, looking unsure, but didn't hesitate to follow me out the door to the garage.

She sat on an amplifier as we ran through "Sugar, We're Going Down". The song ended and she stood up.
"Whatcha think?" Joe asked.
"I think we got ourselves a Grammy," she said sarcastically, flipping us the finger and walking out of the garage.
"So you don't like it?" Joe called from the doorway.
"You wouldn't know good music if it bit you in the ass!" she called, not even turning around.
Pete raised his eye brows and smirked, "Cute kid."