Chapter 9

Bucklecross Grange was a care home situated in the middle of nowhere. It was based in a town so minute and rural that the only way out of it was via the straight main road that cut through it. One direction would lead me to the city, where my mother was hospitalised with her illness and a chance at an independent life on the run awaited me. The other would take me back to Summer Bay; a place I had learnt to love in no time at all. It had dawned on me that perhaps social services had purposely dumped me in the shoddy little town because that way I would feel hopelessly torn between the two ways in which to run in. The city or the Bay?

Every once a day or so a bus might happen to trundle through headed either way, but that was only on occasional weekdays and it was always the same bus driver, who, unfortunately, had been warned not to let me on board. He'd been instructed to contact social services immediately should he see me making a run for the hills. He was the one who had dobbed me in the second time I tried to make a break for freedom. In total, I had made four escape attempts since arriving at Bucklecross Grange. Not a single one had been remotely successful, but I figured it was only a matter of time before I wore my 'carers' (who were more like prison wardens) down. Sooner or later, they'd slip up and I'd get away unnoticed.

It had been several days since I'd been dragged away from my brothers and forced into staying at Bucklecross Grange. I was already sick of the sight of the brightly painted walls, which were decorated in all of the worst shades of colour imaginable to mankind. Blinding sunshine yellow, carrot orange, cat-vomit salmon, pea green the same tinge as mucus... According to the social workers it was an attempt at brightening up the atmosphere and making it a more 'child-friendly home environment'. If you asked me, the kids were already way too at home in Bucklecross Grange. The floors were all littered in trinkets, clothes, wrappers, books and toys; as if the entire place was a bombshell of different children's belongings. There was also an endless ruckus of crying, laughing, screaming or banging. It was enough to drive a person insane. I had barely slept a wink in the time I'd been confined to the care home and not just because I couldn't shake the anxiety of being away from home... wherever home was. Recently, I wasn't even sure if I was pining for the familiar city streets or the quiet beaches of Summer Bay.

I knew that Brax and the rest of my family were fighting incredibly hard with social services to try and gain custody of me, but it was a slow going process. My refusal to stay in the care home along with the fact I insisted upon Brax becoming my legal guardian weighed heavily in our favour, since my personal opinion did seem to count for something (they had decided that fifteen-year-olds ere eligible to decide what they wanted), but my brothers' criminal convictions held us back. Social services claimed that it was an unsafe home and that my brothers and other family members were not capable of providing me with the kind of quality of life I needed. I argued that the quality of life I needed (that being a loving family) was definitely not available to me at Bucklecross Grange.

The squabble over my future never seemed to go anywhere or lead to anything important. At the end of the day, I was still stuck in care, trying my best to escape or make the care worker's lives harder by being as problematic and difficult as I could. I ignored everything they said, rejected everything they gave me, did the opposite of what I was supposed to do and had even ceased eating in a protest to be allowed back home. I figured maybe if I put my own health at risk, then they might have to start listening to what I wanted, and I might be able to scare them into letting me go back to the Bay. It had been three days since I had last touched a crumb. Back when I lived off virtually nothing in the city, going without food was easy, but my appetite had changed since being spoiled for choice by the Braxton family and I'd grown used to an abundance of rich foods. My belly was paying dearly for it now. The hunger pains were unbelievable. But it was worth it just to see the care workers and the social services squirm.

Rosaline, a fairly pretty care worker with a warm smile and a tangle of long red curly hair offered me a sandwich whilst I was attending another meeting with the social workers. She placed it down on the table ahead of me, and encouragingly nodded for me to take it. She had been the one to bother the most with me. I reckoned that she thought an overflow of continual compassion and gentleness might eventually melt my heart and that I would succumb to her kindly efforts. She clearly had not realised how resistant, determined and stubborn I could be. No amount of generosity or kindness would make me yield to the fact that I'd had everything that mattered taken away from me. Both my homes, my family, my mother, my independence. All of it was gone. And until I got it back, I wasn't going to eat a bite.

Though it pained me to do so, I pushed the plate away from me and sat back in my chair. My stomach protested with a fierce grumble that I chose to pay no attention to. I was seated at the table with my arms crossed stiffly over my chest and the most unwelcoming glare I could muster on my face. The social workers were sat opposite me. I'd found out that the blonde with her hair tied back in the tight bun was called Veronica and that the lady with the straight, shoulder-length, grey hair was named Emilia Picket. As I glared at them from over the table, I hoped that they could sense the hatred radiating off of me. I wanted to make sure they knew it was aimed directly and completely at them.

"Alex, we're just trying to do what's best for you." Veronica insisted, for what felt like the hundredth time she'd said it. I still found it hard to believe.

"Then let me go back to live with my brothers." I replied stiffly.

The social worker took a sharp intake of breath and blew it out through her nose as she carefully considered her next words. Her hands were clasped together on the table ahead of her, the sharp, red-nailed fingers interlaced. "I think it's important that we establish that might not be in your best interest. Your brothers aren't proficient enough to look after you."

"'Aren't proficient enough'? Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?" I frowned disbelievingly, an edge to my voice. "They're my family. My flesh and blood. They care about my wellbeing, which is why they're making such an effort to get custody of me. There's no skill or expertise or 'proficiency' in loving a member of your family."

Veronica sighed deeply and tilted her head to the side with weariness. Her eyes looked to me like two dark bullet holes. "Do we really need to go into this again, Alex?"

I shrugged stubbornly in my seat. "Well, since you don't seem to have gotten it into your heads the first six times I said it, then yeah, we do have to go over it again." I leaned forwards slightly and forced a small, grim smile. "And again, and again, and again and again... until eventually, you'll realise that you are wrong and that I belong in Summer Bay."

Veronica laugh and shook her head as if I were a little child who had make a funny comment that didn't really make sense, or a clueless dog that had performed a cute trick. It was a patronising laugh, which made her seem all the more superior. "You didn't even know the place existed until you went there and stayed for a week. You'd have no idea what you were getting yourself into." It was her turn to shrug now. "So go ahead and feed us all these poetic claims of love and family and home and belonging, but Alex, you're fifteen and your naïve. The truth is, you don't know the Braxtons or Summer Bay at all. You don't know what's best for you, and that's completely fine, because luckily, we're here to steer you on the right path and make the correct decisions for your future."

For a painfully long time, nobody said anything and I felt annoyed at myself for having been backed into a corner and for not having some witty reply stored up to throw back at her. The social workers and care workers used the pause of silence to stare at me, unnervingly. After a few moments I cleared my throat.

"I want to see mum."

The woman with the wrinkles around her eyes and the grey hair to her shoulders spoke next, which surprised me, since she usually sat and said nothing whilst Veronica grilled me.

"I don't that's wise." Emilia Picket piped up.

"Don't you?" I scowled, making it as clear as I could how little I cared for her input. "And why should I care what you think?"

"Because I'm trying to help you." Emilia claimed. "I think that right now you have enough stresses in your life without adding your mother to it. You've spent so much of your time focusing on other people - mainly your mum - that you've forgotten you have a life of your own. The first priority in this situation is finding you a permanent residence somewhere and setting you up with a secure life, possibly with a foster family, and then introducing you back into education."

I snorted and shook my head. "Forget it. That's not going to happen."

"Alex, you have to go to school..." Mrs Picket tried again.

I fixed her with an extremely icy glower and pronounced every word with as much hostility as I could. "Over. My. Dead. Body."

Veronica chose then to butt in again. She coughed into a first to draw the attention back to her. Her eyes had landed on the sandwich I'd pushed aside earlier. A fly had landed on it.

"Well that might actually happen if you don't eat something soon." She stated, gesturing at the wasted food. "You need to give up this ridiculous hunger strike."

I shook my head resolutely. "Not until I'm allowed a proper say in what happens in my life."

Her frown deepened. "You're making yourself seriously ill."

Shrugging, I dug a dolphin keyring I'd been given by Darcy out of my pocket and started mindlessly carving my initials into the table we were sat on. It was already covered in scribbles and doodles and crayon, so I doubted whatever I did to it could make it look any worse. In fact, if I torched the thing, it'd probably even look better than the state it was in now.

"That's okay with me." I muttered as I beheld my sketchy artwork and blew away the dusting of wood that came off the surface of the table top.

"Alex, I'm really worried about your unhealthy outlook to all of this." Veronica continued on, a scowl pulled over her features. She was leant close over the table in what might appear like a concerned and lighted interest. "You don't seem to have a sane state of mind and I fear that-"

As soon as the words registered with me and I realised what Veronica was getting at, my head snapped up to attention and I felt my anger burning from the pit of my stomach.

"Oh, give me a break!" I growled, in exasperation. "I'm not delusional! Don't use your stupid psychobabble to try and pretend that I'm a nutcase who can't think for herself." I took a few breaths to try and clam myself down. "I'm annoyed that you've interfered in my life and I'm making a statement by going on a hunger strike. That's all there is to it. So don't go making accusations about my mental health."

Veronica nodded her head as if she understood what I was saying, "Well then, I suppose the good news is that if there are no health concerns, then you should be fine to renter education." She threw me a bright smile, as if this was great news. "Maybe we could start you back at the local school in St Matthews by next Monday. We can put you back a few years into a class of thirteen-year-olds so you'll be studying from where you left off. How does that sound?"

Without another word, I pushed myself up from the table and stormed out of the room, ignoring the calls of the social workers and care workers for me to come back. I blocked everything out as I marched upstairs and slammed my temporary bedroom door shut with a slam as loud as a clap of thunder. As I threw myself onto the bed and buried my face in the pillows, I swore that the fifth time I ran away from Bucklecross Grange, I would not fail. I would also carry out that promise as soon as night fell. I didn't care if I had to walk every step back to Summer Bay myself.

*

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was that almost everything around me was as white as freshly fallen snow. The new linen sheets on my bed that had been drawn up to my chest, the wall, the gleaming, clean tile floors; all of it was a brilliant ivory and the room smelt as fresh as daisies. That might have been because one of the windows had been opened to let in the warm breeze from outside. But there was another smell in the air too; a tinge of some kind of disinfectant or antibiotic.

It took me about two seconds to work out where I was, though I had no recollection of how I got there. The last thing I remembered doing was jumping out of the window of my bedroom at Bucklecross Grange in the dead of night and making a break for freedom. The there was a lot of walking and hitchhiking and bus journeys, until finally I reached the coastal town of Summer Bay. After that, I couldn't really recall anything that had happened. At least nothing that explained why I was waking up in a hospital cot with a drip attached to my arm, a headache drumming through my skull and a pinch in my stomach so strong I felt like I was going to puke, even though I had nothing left in my belly to throw up.

Groaning, I turned my head to the side and blinked a few times to clear away the blurry haze in my eyes. Someone was beside me in a matter of seconds, their hand embracing mine and soothingly brushing the stands of blonde hair from my face.

"Hey, sweetie, you okay?"

I frowned with confusion and when I tried to talk it came out as a strangled croak. "Rick?"

"Yeah it's me." The soft voice replied just as her glowing face and sunny smile swam into view. Ricky had the same soft blonde hair that framed her pretty face and a smile that lighted the room. Her baby bump was covered by a flowing, cream chiffon blouse.

"What are you doing here?" I quizzed, then changed tack with my questions. "Actually, scratch that. What am I doing here?"

"Don't you remember?" Ricky asked, with concerned blue eyes.

"Not really." I admitted.

Ricky took a deep breath and perched on the edge of my bed, still comfortingly stroking my hand and arm with the tips of her fingers. The touch was soft and making me feel sleepy, but I refrained from closing my eyes. I wanted to stay awake for this explanation.

"You're in the nearest hospital to summer bay." Ricky began. "You were brought here after you fainted on your way up the drive to the house last night. Apparently you ran away from the care home. You jumped out of your bedroom window which was two stories high and spent all night on your feet: running and catching lifts and trekking back to the Bay. By the time you made it here, you were exhausted. You hadn't eaten anything in days so your energy levels were at an all-time low. Jett, the boy from next door, spotted you on the drive. He ran over to tell us and Brax carried you into the Ute and drove you straight here. He's been worrying about you all night."

I digested this story in silence and wondered at how it was a miracle I had even managed to make it to Summer Bay at all in the condition I was in. Truthfully, I was slightly smug about the fact that I had kept that promise to myself and successfully fled Bucklecross Grange. The thought of how worried social services (more importantly Veronica and Emilia Picket) would be, made me smirk that much more.

After a second had passed, I cast my eyes around the room in the hope I might find Brax somewhere. Unfortunately, I didn't.

"Where is he now?" I asked Ricky.

"He waited here all night, but he had to leave the room for urgent business an hour or so ago." Ricky explained with a strange smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"Urgent business?" I pressed.

Before Ricky could explain any further, voices reached me from outside my hospital room. They were quiet and serious. I identified Brax's voice immediately and realised he must be talking to Emilia Picket and Veronica. The fourth and fifth voices, both male, I didn't recognise, but they were deep and full of authority. They were all immersed in a conversation that ended as soon as the door to my room was opened and a handsome doctor with brunette hair and a clipboard came through, followed by my oldest brother and a team of social workers.

"Brax?" I called weakly, wondering what was happening and if they were here to haul me back to Bucklecross Grange.

"Hey, grommet." My bother smirked, coming to my bedside. He had a stack of legal papers and documents in one hand. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Fine?" The doctor cut in disbelievingly, cocking a brow at me. I noticed that he had an accent that might have been British. "That's surprising considering what you've put your body through. I'm surprised you have enough energy to sit up in bed, let alone anything else."

"No worries, Nate. I mean, Doc." Brax said with a smile. I supposed that they must know each other from outside the hospital. "We'll make sure she gets plenty of rest and food in Braxton Manor."

"What?" I frowned, not fully grasping what Brax was saying. Smirking triumphantly, my brother dumped the legal papers on my bed and flashed me a victorious wink.

"You're coming home with us, kiddo."

My jaw actually dropped with surprise. I had to scan every inch of my older brother's face to make sure he wasn't' pulling some kind of trick on me and even then, when I saw the honesty in his expression, I still had to scan the faces of the social workers gathered in the room. Veronica and Emilia Picket looked far from happy, but the smartly-dressed, deep-voiced man who was with them, who seemed to be their boss, was offering me a genuine smile.

I broke into a beam. "Are you serious?" I quizzed Brax. "They're actually letting you have custody?" My brother nodded and I laughed cheerfully as I sprung from the bed and threw my arms around him in a bear hug. "How'd you get them to change their minds?"

Grinning, Brax shrugged. "I didn't. You did."

The social worker man chose then to step in.

"We have agreed that you were a health risk to yourself when you were being kept in Bucklecross Grange and away from the people who care about you." He clarified. "It had led to you running away five times, starving yourself and ultimately, being hospitalised. It was in your best interest to move you, so that you'd no longer put your life at risk. Besides, naturally, the guardianship of a child falls to whoever the closest family members are, that is, if they are willing to take to the charge. In this case, since your mother is too ill to care for you, custody fell to Darryl Braxton and the rest of your brothers. His criminal convictions were all on false charges anyhow and we've been reassured that you'll be taken care of in Summer Bay with them."

"Thank you." I said to the social workers, in a tone that for once, was not filled with despise.

"We wish you all the best, Alex." The man said, dipping his head at me, before shaking my brother's hand and exiting the room.

"We will be checking in frequently with you to make sure it's all running smoothly and that you're being kept on track." Veronica told me - or more like threatened me - before she left. "Should anything be amiss, you can be sure that we'll step in."

"You also must be registered at a school within the next two weeks." Emilia Picket added. "And if we see any problems at all, we will pull the plug on this whole arrangement. Best of luck to the future, Alexis Braxton. Don't be afraid to tell us if something's wrong."

I thought about how the last thing I'd do if something was wrong is tell them about it, but I wisely chose to keep that opinion to myself. Quietly, I watched as the two women swanned out of the room, leaving me alone with Brax and Ricky and the doctor. I couldn't fight the smile from my lips.

"So, Nate, what's the verdict? Is she good to come home?" Brax eagerly asked the doctor.

"I'm not sure yet." He replied. "I'll have to run a few more tests and I want to ensure that Alex's strength is back." His eyes locked with mine. "For that, you'll need to eat something. There's no way I'm discharging you without you having eaten a full meal."

"Awesome. I'll go and hit the canteen then, shall I?" Ricky suggested, getting up from the bed. "How does snags, mashed potato and mushy peas sound?"

"Yum. Hospital food. What a treat." I answered sarcastically, smiling because I was too happy to really be bothered by the doctor's orders to eat mushy, tasteless food. Nothing could drag down the sensation of pure joy that I was feeling right now, because I was going back to Summer Bay to live with my brothers full time. I was on my way home.

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Okay, so, first of all, sorry that this chapter has been a REEEALLY long time coming. Been super busy with life! Anyway, I realise it's a pretty boring chapter, but I needed to put it in anyway. The next chapters will be more exciting hopefully. Please keep reading and I hope you're all enjoying the story :)