A.N: Hello readers! This story is set after Pearl recovers from her injuries after April pushed her down the stairs. Pearl reflects on why she did all those things she did to April, and wonders if it could've been different. One-shot. Not femmeslash.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING! JACQULINE WILSON DOES!
I've been in care, ever since I was little. And now this is my life. Pearl. Fifteen years old and a complete disaster area. Ever since I was born, nothing has gone right for me. I at last thought I had my lucky break when I was fostered by long-term foster parents, Maureen and Peter when I was nine. When I began to live there, I was the third girl to be fostered. The other girls were sixteen-year-old Esme, who had Down's syndrome and the literate skills of a three-year-old, and seven-year-old April, who was found in a dustbin the day she was born.
I had heard some social workers talking about April. They were worried that Esme's syndrome was rubbing off on her because April kept copying her. They thought having another girl around would help her. I was thought to be very sweet and I needed a foster family, so when they fostered me, I was immediately pushed off on April. She was the kind of girl I hated. Very shy and girly with long fair hair. I wouldn't be surprised if she had never said a word to me. But the minute I was left alone with her, I made it clear that if she went against me, she'd pay. To be fair, April wasn't intentionally irritating, but her nature alone made me want to hurt her.
Everyone thought April and I were best friends. I had been in and out of schools so much that I was put in her class at school, and they got her to help me with reading. She would always try to run off at breaks, but I would always chase her and get her to "help" me with "reading". I didn't bother reading properly the first time.
I pretended the words were the following and said them out loud: "There was a stupid ugly girl called April and no one liked her, not even her mum, so she dumped her of course, what do you expect. This daft fat lady said 'Oh, don't worry, little baby April, we will make Pearl be your friend.' Do you think Pearl will be April's friend?"
At this point I nudged April hard and said "Hey, I'm talking to you, April. Am I your friend? AM I?"
April was so indimidated she stuttered "Um, yes, no! I don't know!"
"Can't you make up your mind, stupid?" I scoffed. "Well, I'll do it for you. You don't want to be my friend, so you're my deadly enemy."
After that, April had a very clear idea of me. She was scared of me. I liked knowing I had power over someone. But sometimes, I was out of my depth.
At bathtime, I had to share with April, because there wasn't enough hot water for everyone to have a separate one. When we were left by ourselves, I sometimes decided to play a game. Mermaids.
"What do mermaids do, April?" I would ask, smirking.
The first time I asked that question, she said "I don't know what mermaids do."
"You don't know?" I replied. "Well, April, mermaids have got long pretty tails so they can...what?"
April paused. "So they can swim?" she whispered.
That was my cue to push her face under water, but sometimes I thought I was killing her, and I let her up. That first time I let her up, she was nearly crying.
"Shut up, stupid." I snapped at her. "Not a very good swimmer yet. Call yourself a mermaid? Better practise." I pushed her down again, but I made sure I never kept her under for more than thirty seconds.
April was a good writer. She's written her story down and published it. I read it. She wrote about the mermaids game, but she hasn't written everything about me, how I cut her off from nearly everyone by taking up all her time. However, she did write what happened before she nearly killed me.
Esme told me about April's paper dolls. I knew she'd have them somewhere, and I desired to hurt April more by ripping up her dolls. It took a damn long time to find them, though. I ended up finding them inside one of April's winter socks.
I waited for April to go up to our room. Just as I thought, April looked for her dolls and found confetti. She started crying, and I showed myself.
"What's up?" I asked, as if I didn't know. "Oh, does poor little girly want her dollies back? Baby! You're mental, April. Look, it's just paper!" I tossed some of the paper at her.
She looked at me, and I saw a fiery look in her eyes I had never seen before. She ran at me, and I made a break for it. She caught up with me on the stairs, but it's not like everyone thought. She didn't push me. I lost my balance at the top of the stairs and fell. But it was April's fault.
After that, April was sent to a Children's Home for disturbed kids. I never heard from her again.
I didn't come clean at the time, but a few months after, I broke down and confessed what had really happened between April and me.
After that, I was sent to another Children's Home. I'm still there now, but I'm starting to realize what damage I could have done to April's life.
I know you probably wouldn't want to hear from me after what happened between us in the past, but I wanted to write this. I know you probably won't ever get to read this anyway, but I can't deal with my guilt of what I've done without writing this.
April, I can't really apologize for abusing you, because I don't feel any real remorse for doing it, just guilt, which isn't really the same. I just wanted you to know why I did all those things.
I was jealous of you. It sounds crazy, doesn't it, when you were found in a dustbin on April 1st and blamed completely for my fall. I know you didn't tell about what I did to you, but I know it was hard on you. I was also jealous because you were sweet and pretty. I knew my appearance was something you noticed, but I wanted the classic fair hair baby blue eyed look you had. Don't we all wish to look different, though?
I never wanted to seriously hurt you, even when I kept semi-drowning you in the bath. And I didn't really think you'd make such a big thing out of your dolls. April, I'll probably never see you again, and you'll probably never read this, but although you'll never believe this, I'll write it: I miss you.