Part I
It is raining again. It always rains here in Seattle. My mom, Brooke, and I would always go outside and splash in the puddles. Whoever stepped in the most puddles would win. Well, we do not do that anymore because mom is gone now. Grandma says mom went to a better place called Heaven, but I wish mom were still here with us. After mom died everything went down hill. Dad stopped going to work and got fired so he was unable to pay our bills. He started staying out late and usually came home so drunk he could not even stand up by himself. Grandma says dad did not find closure and is still grieving. We used to live in a nice 4-bedroom apartment and go to a private school, but dad started spending money on cigarettes, alcohol, and gambling. We could no longer afford our rent or our tuition for our school. We soon became homeless. After searching for a few weeks we eventually found an abandoned building where we live and now call home. The building is five stories high and has thirty-seven rooms in total. The windows are either covered with planks of wood or paper bags with duck tape to keep out the rain and cold. Some rooms have doors while others do not, our room happens to have a door with a hole where the doorknob should be. Our home has one bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room-kitchen configuration. Brooke and I share a room and my dad sleeps on the floor in the living room. None of us have beds and we never have electricity because the building is so old and abandoned. We wash ourselves with ice-cold water in our clogged up, filthy bathroom without soap or warm water. Since the water is so cold I bathe for only a few seconds, so I usually smell bad. I now have two pairs of denim jeans, three t-shirts, one dress, one jacket, and one pair of “hardcore” boots, as dad calls them. I used to have more clothes before mom died, but dad sold most of them to get money. Brooke says we live in squalor I do not know what that word means, but I am sure it is not good. My older sister Brooke calls this new home the hole and hates dad for being unable to support us, but I still believe in him and I know he will not let us down.

Part II
It has been one year since mom died and I am now ten years old. I still miss mom, but I was the only one who grieved properly according to grandma. She said that I have coped well and that mom would be proud. I want mom to be proud of me, so I try not to cry or miss her too much. We still live in the hole, but we have adapted and have grown accustomed to this new setting, except Brooke. She complains about our living conditions and usually gets into loud arguments with dad about his level of responsibility to his family. Brooke is now sixteen and feels like a grownup. She is a straight-A student, an athlete, and can play the piano, guitar, trombone and flute. Brooke is very talented. She has this majestic spark whenever she speaks she commands the listener’s attention and is very sweet and genuine unless her buttons are pushed the wrong way, then she becomes pugnacious and even frightening. When I get older I want to be just like her except I want to still love dad and not get so angry. Dad says he is going to build us a home when he gets enough money and meets the “right” people. He calls this new home Heaven on a Hill.
“I am going to build a beautiful house on top of hill and surround it with golden gates, just like heaven,” he says. “So we will be close to mom. She would like that.” He smiles and his eyes become glossy. Whenever dad brings up Heaven on a Hill Brooke just sucks her teeth and leaves the room, but I stay with dad and try to help him design my room.

A few weeks after living in the hole we enrolled in school, but this time it was a public school. I was always at the top of my class, in my old school, and placed with the gifted group of children because of my vast vocabulary. At school the other kids made fun of me because my hair is red and I have freckles on my face. When the teacher calls attendance she can never pronounce my last name and the kids make fun of it. My full name is Erica Gabrielle Ferreira I thought it was a pretty name until one girl came up to me and said it was stupid and ugly. Now I just say my last is Ferry and that the teacher misspelled it on the attendance list. Brooke tells me that our name is weird because dad’s family is from Portugal. My mom’s family is Irish that is why I have red hair and freckles, dad says. The kids at school call me ugly, dirty, and poor because I do not have a lot of money and I have to wear the same clothes and shoes pretty much every day. Dad tells me not to worry about them because they are just spoiled bratty children. He never was a huge fan of education like mom; he barely earned his high school diploma. Dad believed that education could only help you a little, in the real world you needed to know important things like how many miles the earth was from the sun, or why do birds sing, and even how to catch a fish with your bare hands. Brooke does not have trouble fitting in at school I think it is because she is so pretty. Brooke and I look nothing alike and she gets more compliments than I do about her hair, her face, and even her hands. Brooke and I are very different not only in appearance and age but also in personality and values. Mom always said that Brooke had a special way of fitting in and charming people that is why she always has friends. She never gets bullied because she is strong and fierce when she gets angry and people at school are afraid to get on her bad side. 

Mom loved dogs and would adopt them from the shelters and take care of them. After mom passed away, dad found his connection to mom through dogs. He bought or found seventeen dogs of all different breeds and sizes to take care of. He feeds them and even buys them footsies for their little paws, but we barely have enough to eat or wear.
“Oh, you know the dogs are so small they need food more than us humans,” dad would explain. “Hunger is good for the soul it makes you stronger, but dogs can’t handle being hungry so you have to feed’em.” Brooke would always get angry when dad said this and yell at dad for caring about stupid dogs more than his own children. Dad would say nothing and continue feeding the dogs. My favorite dog was the smallest one named Chip because he had little brown spots on his fur like I have freckles on my face. I had asked Brooke which dog was her favorite and she would say, “I hate all those dogs I wish they were dead.” Dad heard and told her to shut up and Brooke ran out the house and went for a run. When times got really tough and money was tight we had to eat the dog food for dinner. I could not control my hunger the way Brooke did so I gobbled down the dog food as quickly as I could before I remembered what I was eating. Brooke never ate it she said it was not right for a human being to have to dine with dogs and eat their food it was degrading and outright nasty.

One day I asked dad if he was still working on Heaven on a Hill and he said, “Oh of course sweetie you know I’ll finish it for us. I have never let you down and never will. I just need to save more money and meet the right-”
“Yeah, yeah we know the right people,” Brooke yelled.
I was excited to live in Heaven on a Hill I would be close to mom and maybe even see her from time to time. I would have my own room again with glass windows and curtains and my own bed with a mattress too. I could have a garden and grow my own tulips and daffodils, dad said. It would be like old times before mom died. But Brooke said dad was not going to start or finish this project and we would live in this dump forever. I told her you have to have faith like grandma says. But she just snickered and said “You’ve been listening to that old lady too much lately.”

Part III
“There is no food, barely any clothes, you are a worthless bum who takes care of these revolting dogs more then us,” Brooke declared one night. 
“Stop badgering me, I’m always the one who has to provide, you should be able to do for yourself, it will teach you to be strong, responsible women,” dad yelled.
“If mom were here she would know what to do with you. You don’t do anything all you do is come and go as you please and spend money on worthless junk.”
“You hold your tongue, I am trying my best as a father.”
“As a terrible one,” Brooke mumbled.
“I miss your mom just as much as you do but I can’t-”
“Can’t! Can’t do what dad; take care of your own children without making silly excuses and theories. I hate you so much it hurts my tongue to call you my dad.” Brooke had reached her limit and ran out of the house slamming the door so hard the door itself broke from the hinges. Dad sat down and cried. I never saw dad cry before not even at mom’s funeral, so I was scared but I sat next to him and gave him a hug and wiped his tears. I was the only one keeping this family together it was hard, but someone had to do it. That night I told dad I still loved him even if Brooke did not and I knew he would one day build Heaven on a Hill and we would be one big happy family again. This made him smile and I smiled too because he was happy and stopped hating himself. I would remain loyal to dad no matter what he did I knew I had to. It would break his heart and eat his soul alive if I did not.

Dad began to hoard and soon living in the hole became very tight and infested. Dad had constructed towers of crossword puzzles everywhere. He said he needed them to keep his thoughts in order so he would not forget the days of the week or what a hospital was. I believed him and thought it made some sense. Crossword puzzles help push your brain to think and if dad thought they would help him think then I trusted him. In addition to the stack of crossword puzzles, urine dog stains, moldy food, old pickle jars, dusty books, action figures, dirty toothbrushes, empty beer bottles, cigarette butts, and other items I should not mention engulfed our small home. Roaches invaded the hole and spread so quickly they were everywhere. They were in our clothes, our shoes, hidden corners, the bathroom, or just lying across the floor. Brooke threatened to burn it all.
“I’ll burn it! I’ll burn it all if you don’t clean this mess up!” Brooke threatened.
“Would you, would you really do that to dad?” I asked.
“No,” she whispered, “this whole building will be swallowed in flames and we will all die. I just say that to threaten dad to make him clean up that’s all.” She would always use logic to explain her actions. Since she was a smarty-pants she would quote literature when explaining why she does things. “I must be cruel to be kind, Hamlet once said. If I am not cruel by yelling at dad our poverty will increase and that would not be kind,” but it never made sense to me. Dad would place all of his action figures in a special corner of the house and if anyone touched them he would get angry and start cursing at you. Once Brooke stepped on one of them by accident and broke its arm. Dad smacked her in the face and said, “Would you like it if a giant came out of nowhere and snapped your arm off?” Brooke threatened to break another one and then stormed out of the room. I tried to tell dad to start cleaning the house because I learned in school if you have too many things in your home it could become a fire hazard. I told dad all of the things we had discussed in class but he still kept collecting trash. Some how his untidiness spread to other people’s ears and one day a middle-aged man in a black suit with a red tie came to our humble home. He carried a briefcase and some files in his hand. Dad was not home at the time and Brooke was out with her friends, so I answered the door. The man’s name was John Courte and he smiled when he saw me. He asked for my father, but I said he was not home. I asked Mr. Courte if he would like to wait until he arrived and he said yes. He came in and his face quickly became contorted and his nose wrinkled at the strong odor. He tripped about a dozen times over dad’s piles of stuff and put his sleeve over his nose while speaking so his voice sounded nasally. I could not help from giggling to myself he sounded just like a clown. He asked me about school, if I had any friends, if I liked living in this building, and what my dad was like. I answered all the questions truthfully because grandma says it is a sin to lie. While telling the truth I realized how poor our living conditions were and how my loyalty to dad was rapidly decreasing, I tried to quickly increase my loyalty by concentrating on the Heaven on a Hill project and that encouraged me for a little while. Mr. Courte would not reply he would just nod and write things down. I tried to see what he was writing, but could not because of the angle he was sitting at. Brooke later arrived home and was appalled when she saw Mr. Courte. She yelled at me and held her fist up to my face in a threatening position. She told me to never open the door when dad is not around I shrugged and said sorry. Brooke looked nervous and on edge she was for the most part down to earth, but her eyes began to dart all around the room, her breathing became very uneven, and her hands shook uncontrollably. Mr. Courte asked if she wanted to sit down or get a glass of water, but she said no and just walked out the door. Dad arrived later and looked shocked as well, but not as bad as Brooke. I was asked to leave the room and Mr. Courte and dad spoke for hours.

Part IV
I made a new friend today. Her name is Claire just like my mom’s, so I knew mom would be happy. Claire was born in March just like me and her favorite subject was Social Studies like mine. We had so many things in common I could not even count them all. She never laughed or made fun of my hair, freckles, last name, or poverty I could not have dreamt of a better friend. I told her how my real last name was Ferreira and not Ferry and my dad is Portuguese and my mom is Irish. I told her about my mom and how I missed her sometimes. I even told her about Heaven on a Hill and how I would ask my dad to build a room for her right next to mine. Claire was the only person I could fully trust. I was happy. My life was turning around for the better. Little did I know it would be taking an even greater turn in a few short days.

One day I came home after going to the park with Claire to find dad in a very solemn and gloomy state. I gestured to give him a hug, but he said no and that I should start packing my bags because we were visiting grandma. I liked grandma she was smart and pretty and she had a nice big house in Maryland. I wondered why we could not live with her instead of in the hole, but Brooke told me that grandma was mom’s mom and grandma was not too fond of dad. Brooke looked unusually happy and almost excited, for someone who did not really like grandma. Brooke said grandma was too religious and thought she was smarter than everyone else, but now Brooke seemed thrilled to see grandma despite her previous dislikes. When I spoke to grandma on the phone she was always nice and sweet and encouraged me right after mom died. I was excited to visit her because I had only seen her once at mom’s funeral.

Part V
We arrived in Maryland after a long plane-ride and were driven in a cab to grandma’s huge house. I had asked Brooke how we afforded the plane-ride and she said the government funded the trip because it is the law to remove children out of insufficient living conditions. I did not quite know what she meant, but I was thrilled I got to go on a plane. Grandma’s house had a tire swing and two bikes in the front, I knew I would be the first one on the swing and choose the pink bike with the purple stripes, because pink is my favorite color. The house was blue and was three stories high. The windows were square and had beautiful pink silk curtains. There was a garden, in the front, filled with flowers and vegetables and a nice big backyard. In the driveway there was a shiny white car with cushioned seats and a rosary hanging from the rear-view mirror. Everything was so peaceful and perfect I was afraid I would break or disturb something. We rung the doorbell and grandma came and hugged us all except dad. Brooke’s face lit up when she saw grandma and it almost looked like Brooke was going to cry.
“You ought to unpack your things and get comfortable you will be staying with me from now on.” Grandma warmly said.
“Yes! Thank you so much grandma,” Brooke squealed. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Brooke grinned and sprinted upstairs to choose a room. I was confused. Dad was on the verge of tears and had not said anything the whole plan-ride and Brooke was in an overwhelming state of happiness.
“So grandma how long are we staying at your house? A week? Two?”
“Oh honey, no, no you and your sister will stay here until you are adults and decide to have a home and family of your own. I am your new guardian due to your father’s negligence,” she gave a hard dark stare at dad, “and your poor mother’s untimely death.” Then grandma looked to the sky and closed her eyes to say a silent prayer. She then reassured me with a loving smile, but I still did not understand.
Brooke jumped down the stairs and said, “dad couldn’t take care of us because he was an irresponsible, intolerable, disloyal, stupid, uncaring, horrible, incapable, selfish, unreasonable, untrustworthy -”
“Okay that’s enough dear,” grandma insisted.
“Any way,” Brooke continued, “the government has to take children away from bad parents, and that is what happened to us.” Brooke calmly explained.
“But I made a new friend, Claire, just like mom’s name. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. She was my true-.”
“All good things must come to an end,” grandma interrupted.
“And bad things too!” Brooke chimed in.
Dad hugged us and departed shortly after, without saying a word. I had lost my best friend and my dad in the same day. I would never see Heaven on a Hill and would never get the chance to be close to mom again. The government said that dad was not a good enough father, but I still believed he was, for I promised I would never lose trust in him. Brooke was usually happy but the spark that once lived in her had burned out. Maybe it was because she secretly missed dad, or maybe wanted to see mom again, or perhaps deep down inside she really wanted to have built Heaven on a Hill and see it glow with a radiance so magnificent, but now she knew she would never see it. Grandma told me “you can do all things through Christ, which strengthens you,” but I knew even if Christ himself came down to earth I would never see Heaven on a Hill because dad was gone and any essence of hope to build, create, or succeed had ceased to exist in the Ferreira family, for we had fallen apart.

Written by Zoe Russell
Inspired by: The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls