*This story hit me like a ton of bricks. And when something hits you that hard, you just kinda have to roll with it.
I do not own House, I don't even get to watch it now other than on Tuesday morning at six for new episodes and every Friday night after girl scouts for chronological reruns. I do, however own Morgan, who this whole story is about. So enjoy the ride and review!*
She walked out of the high school's back doors five minutes before the bell rang, hoping to be able to make it to play practice on time if she did this. Her knee-high Converse covered her skin-tight skinny jeans, which were called "skinny jeans" for a reason clearly. A green coat over a black-and-white striped sweater and star-covered tee, she looked like an "American flag for the colorblind". And that was fine for her. There were worse looks.
She smiled as she made her way into the auditorium. It was like a second home to her, she didn't enjoy being home alone. The black scuffed-up stage was like the comfort of carpet, the red fabric of the theater seats were softer than any furniture at home. And all the people on the stage were like her brothers and sisters and cousins. But her only family in this blasted town was her mom, and that was all there was ever going to be.
"Hey, Morgan." Avery Black, one of Morgan's closest guy friends, said casually. "You know we don't have practice today, right?"
"Sorry, what?" Her head was in the clouds. No practice? They had practice every day. This was the first time in weeks they didn't have practice.
"Mr. Dawson is sick, he had to cancel." Avery watched as Morgan sank into one of the seats anyways. Ah, the comfy fading red, stains from last show's infamous Doritos battle. Morgan remembered running through the crossfire, chips flying from red and blue bags faster than someone could eat them. All about flavor, they told her. But she couldn't understand. Last year she was a stupid eighth grader. Now she was a high schooler, top of the stage food chain.
"Then I guess I'll chill out and do my homework." She pulled out her Geometry book and a notebook, a pencil tucked behind her ear, hidden in her short brown hair hitting her chin. Her eyes were a light purple-gray, her mom called them "princess eyes" because they reminded her of Cinderella's dress. "Help me please?" She pouted as Avery ran his hand through his jet black hair.
"You know I was no good at geometry, I hardly passed Morgan." Avery whined. "But I'm here for moral support."
"Coward." She scoffed. If her mom had taught her one thing it was not to let anything make her feel weak. Which sometimes made her seem bitter or unconcerned. But she didn't want to get hurt like her mom clearly did.
It was a quick two hours from when school got out to when practice would've been over. Avery had just left, Morgan sat waiting for her mom. Obviously Mrs. Black nor Mr. Dawson were giving her a ride home. So walking it was, she figured. The three miles to her house would pass quickly, wouldn't they?
Her mom was a head nurse at Chesapeake Medical Center, though she was trained to be a doctor. She had now-blonde hair and light blue eyes, looking more like one of those "perfect people" Hitler desired, she was a spitting image of their history lesson. But her mom wasn't one for history. She wasn't one to make history, to have a history, to care for history. Her mom didn't trust people, she didn't seem to like them. "A wise man once told me that everybody lies." Her mom warned Morgan starting at a very young age, and maybe that's why Morgan didn't originally trust much of anyone. Her mom had been hurt by whoever her father was, because when Morgan asked about him she usually hit her tongue and told her "He doesn't matter to us baby." Morgan was content not knowing her dad, but it was saddening to know her mom was still stung by what happened almost fifteen years ago. She just wished she knew what had happened, or even his name.
The door was locked, no car in the drive. She wasn't home yet, usually she would've gotten home at five fifteen that evening, but it was six. That was unusual. And there was NEVER anything unusual about her mom. So she fixed herself a bowl of cereal and watched her DVRed episodes of Glee, and waited... And waited... And waited...
...the next day...
"Morgan Cameron to guidance please." Rang out the speakers right after the first late bell rang. When someone was called to guidance, she knew, it meant they were caught in one of their actions. And she had MANY actions. The time she accidentally hit Avery's girlfriend with a basketball and hurt her jaw. Skipping five minutes of last bell to make it to play practices. Drawing a Christmas tree on her desk in Mr. Solomon's class. On the quiet walk down the stairs and to the office, she was thinking of an alibi. One she didn't have.
In the guidance office was her guidance councilor Mrs. Drew, a thin dark-haired woman with glowing green eyes and a sickly complexion, always looking as though she's about to throw up but never does. And another was the school social worker. "Morgan Abigail Cameron, correct?" The social worker asked, Morgan managing a stiff nod. "And your mother is Allison Cameron, correct?" Another nod.
"Mrs. Drew, why am I here? I've got class..." Morgan tried to walk away, but Mrs. Drew reached out and grabbed her arm, as if refusing her exit.
"Miss Cameron I am sorry to tell you that your mother died last night in a car accident." The social worker told her quietly, waiting for a reaction. She didn't get the one she wanted. The girl didn't sob aloud, she didn't even sniffle. You just saw tears drip down her face and what was a smile turn to a grimace. "She was hit by a drunk driver on her way home from work."
Why? Morgan asked herself. Why was fate so cruel to her? She didn't know her father, he could be dead for all gets she knew, and her mother was gone now too. That made her an orphan. She didn't like that idea though! She wasn't a little orphan Annie, though she was Pepper in the stage show. She wasn't a fortunate little girl, she only had one father not three to choose from (Mamma Mia, she kept trying to convince Mr. Dawson on it, but he didn't agree. She didn't rule out the idea of three possible fathers though. That would be too cool!) "What do I do now?"
"You will be living with your godfather come next week." Morgan raised an eyebrow. She had never met a godfather of her's, nothing more than her aunt and uncle, her mom's brother and sister. This was new to her.
"My godfather?" How ill a fate, to live with a godfather! Much less a man she hadn't met, as far as she knew.
"Dr. Gregory House, he lives in New Jersey." Mrs. Drew explained. "We will get you up there to meet him in a few days, you will stay with me until then."
"And what if I don't WANT to live with Dr. Gregory House?" Morgan snapped quickly, hoping to get an uprising. Nothing.
"We send you to foster care." The social worker explained. "And no one wants that, do they?"
"Good. We will arrange for Dr. House to meet you on Friday, after the funeral." Another tear ran hot down Morgan's cheek. "I could suggest you a grief councilor if you like."
"I'll pass." Morgan walked out, without another word, and started back to class. But she just couldn't make it. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, sank down beside a brick column, hung her head and cried until the next bell rang. This was the end of what she knew.
*I hope y'all liked. :) Review love!*