Never Born (An Excerpt)

Cora Claire Daniels was a girl who always failed, regardless of how hard she tried. It was like she was cursed; a goal would be set, she was determined, but in the end, she would crash and burn. Now only fifteen years old, she had finally given up. As her great grandma had told her when she was very young, “a black girl from Chicago never wins.”

Shaking the thought away, Cora forced a smile and walked out onto the streets. Everything was going to be okay. The young girl knew her great grandma had always been a pessimist, and she was not going to let that keep her from trying. Her mother worked at a café down the street from her family’s apartment around the clock to ensure Cora a decent life. She couldn’t give up and let all that go to waste.

Cora, an optimist from the start, hurried around the corner onto her street. “Excuse me? Do you have any spare change today, Cora?” one of the homeless men on her street asked politely. “Sorry, Willy.” Cora apologized, feeling her pockets, “Nothing today.”

“No problem, darling.” Willy nodded, looking up at her, “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“See ya tomorrow!” she smiled, heading off. Cora felt awful for forgetting Willy, but he’s a trooper. “Is that?” Cora gaped, seeing a flash of green on the ground, “No way! It is!” Whirling around, the girl snatched the ten-dollar bill and grinned. “Willy!” she called joyfully, “Here!”

Willy looked over at his friend as she ran over with the bill. “Here you go, Willy!” she offered, slowing down to a stroll, “Buy a sandwich and a coffee!” Smiling, Willy began to stand up to accept the gift as a police siren echoed through the city. The cold air grew stagnant as the wind let up. Willy looked over at Cora, but before he could thank her, a loud bang pierced his ears. Gunshots.

“CORA!!!” he wailed as she fell to the ground, “NO!!!”

Police men ran after the gunman, ducking behind their cars as the man began shooting. Several officers circled Cora’s body in hopes of saving her. “Do you know her?” one asked Willy. “Yes.” he replied, crying, “Her mother works at the place down the street. Will she be okay? Is she okay?”

“An ambulance is on its way.” the other informed, taking Cora’s pulse, “She’s got a pulse.”

The bloody ten-dollar bill drifted from Cora’s hand and rested on the ground as she rolled her head to the left. “It is going to be okay.” the officer assured halfheartedly. Cora groaned in pain. The bullet had struck her in the chest, just below the heart. Her top was soaked with blood, which kept flowing until the first officer held a bandage on the wound.

By this time, the shooter had been apprehended, the ambulance was rounding the corner, and Cora’s breath was gone. The wind began to blow again and swept up the stained Hamilton from the sidewalk and it blew high into the air as the doors of the ambulance opened. Cora Daniels had died, but her journey had just begun.

“The shooter charged with the murder of a fifteen-year-old black girl from Chicago has been sentenced to twenty years in prison,” the radio buzzed, waking up fourteen-year-old Landon George Goodwin, “the bail is set at–“ The clock radio clicked off with the push of a button and Landon rolled out of bed. Clad in a pair of grey pajama bottoms, Landon moseyed out of his room and went downstairs. Around 5 foot 4 inches tall, Landon was of average weight and build. His frizzy brown locks swooped around in all directions, bouncing around whenever he made the slightest movement.

Landon opened the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice for himself and his younger brother. “Grayson!” he shouted, “What do you want for breakfast?!”

“Waffles please!” a high-pitched voice responded, followed by quick footsteps down the stairs, “With extra syrup!” “You can put your own syrup on it.” Landon informed the blue-eyed redhead sitting at the kitchen table, “I’m not going to be around to baby you forever, ya know.”

Grayson was two years younger than Landon, although he acted as if the age difference was triple that. Landon made his food, did his laundry, and fixed his bed. He was essentially the “lady of the house” now that their mother was doing double shifts at the office.

“Dad!” Landon called, “Do you want waffles too?!”

Mr. Goodwin hobbled down the stairs fully dressed, plopped in his seat at the table, and scooched in as far as his gut would allow. “Yes, Lanny, that’s fine.” he agreed, “No syrup though, if I don’t stop gaining weight, I won’t fit out the doors to look for a new job!”

Their father had gotten let go from his job at Jim’s Contracting Co. two months ago, leaving Mrs. Goodwin as the primary breadwinner temporarily. He spends his days researching jobs and doing interviews, eventually coming home at the end of the day tired and reaching for a beer.

Landon whipped together the batter and poured it into the waffle maker. He was not one to eat those processed frozen toaster “waffles” and he definitely wouldn’t feed it to his family.

The waffle sizzled in the device as Landon grabbed a glass of milk and set it in front of his father. “Thank you.” he mumbled, taking a sip as Landon returned to the waffle, throwing it on a plate and passing it to Mr. Goodwin. “HEY!” Grayson whined, “I was here first!”

“Do you have an interview at 7:30?” Landon asked rhetorically, “Exactly.”

Grayson rolled his eyes and groaned. “Grayson Herbert Goodwin, don’t you groan at me!” Landon scolded, “You know I’m not afraid to ground you!”

“Sorry, Lanny.” the boy pouted, “I can wait.”

“Good.” Landon smiled, turning on the house stereo to an early 2000s pop station. Mouthing the lyrics as he worked, Landon was quick to make two more waffles for him and his brother. “Where is your interview anyway, Dad?” Grayson inquired, shoving the last of his waffle into his mouth.

“Um, some place upstate.” Mr. Goodwin faltered, taking a gulp of his milk and whipping away the mustache it left behind, “Why do you ask, Gray?” To that the boy simply shrugged, promptly excusing himself and heading upstairs to take a shower. “Any light to shed?” their father turned to Landon, “What’s eating at your brother?”

Landon really did not want to pull a stunt like Gray and run away, but he wasn’t about to ruin the morning with this conversation. “I gotta get my outfit around.” Landon blurted, standing up from the table, “We’ll talk later, good luck!”

Gray was a mommy’s boy no doubt, so when he heard Mrs. Goodwin complaining about their dad, he believed every word she said. It was the previous night in which Grayson heard his mom refer to their dad as a “lazy sack of hot air not even trying to get a job,” and instantly began doubting Mr. Goodwin’s determination.

“Gray?” Landon asked, knocking on the bathroom door, “You in there?” Despite hearing the water running, there was no response, so Landon opened the door and went in. Grayson was in the shower, curtains closed, and Landon looked at himself in the mirror. For a moment, he just stared into the sad green eyes looking back at him. “Grayson, I know things are rocky right now, but you need to trust that Dad is trying.” he spoke softly, “Mom sometimes overreacts a little; what do you expect from a woman working as hard as she does? It’s stressful.”

“I know.” a voice from the shower agreed, “It’s just that if he was trying, then why doesn’t he have a job yet?”

“It’s hard to find a job, Gray.” Landon reminded, squirting some toothpaste onto his toothbrush, “Economical stuff.” The shower turned off as Landon began to brush his teeth. Gray got out of the shortly after and grabbed his towel before leaving for his room. He was angry, and Landon knew it. His brother was always a passive aggressive one, especially when he thought Landon was taking sides. As they say, a house divided cannot stand. The Goodwin Household seemed to be on its last legs. Landon rinsed, and turned to face the opposite wall. He forced air out from between his lips, exasperated already and it wasn’t even seven o’clock.

Fifteen minutes later Landon exited the bathroom in his robe and walked across the hall to his room. “What are you doing?” Landon asked his brother, who was laying in the center of the floor. “Eh.” he replied, not moving.

The boy stepped over his brother and tossed the robe on his brother’s face with a grin, proceed to dress. Gray pushed the robe aside and sat up as Landon slid into his jeans and pulled a polo over his head. “Not bad, Lanny.” he joked, “Dressing up for your crush?”

“Crush? No!” Landon defended, gesticulating nervously, “I just like to look presentable.” Gray smiled and winked as if he knew something. He didn’t. Even Landon knew nothing.

Over the past few months, Landon’s life had fallen apart, but he didn’t tell anyone he felt that way. Everyone in his life had enough of their own issues that they didn’t need to have to deal with his too. In fact, Landon was so good at concealing his depression that some people came to him with their problems. He loved helping others, but it is near impossible to make someone else feel better when one wants to curl up into a ball and cry.

“C’mon, Gray.” Landon yipped, motioning to the door, “We gotta get going, it isn’t spring break yet!”

On their way out of the house, Landon was sure to see to it that every light in the house had been turned off, and that the house keys were in his pocket. Mrs. Goodwin wouldn’t be home until seven that night, so the two boys would need to be able to get inside after school.

Landon sympathized with his mother, for the most part. She worked hard to support her family, so it is no wonder why she was so stressed. Someone had to pay the bills, but Landon also thought his father was trying. It wasn’t right of her to chastise him for his unemployment when he was doing everything he could to get a job. Landon remembered the old days when everyone was happy and sighed at the romanticized times.

It was Tuesday March 14th, and while snow was beginning to fall in other places, it was fifty-five degrees and sunny in Beaver Falls, Ohio. The two brothers stopped by the middle school, the place where they part ways and Landon meets up with his friends to go down the street to Beaver Falls High School.

“Hey guys!” Landon greeted, bouncing over to where a frenzied boy and annoyed girl were waiting. The slender black-haired green-eyed boy was a few inches taller than Landon, and always looked as if he was behind some borderline-dangerous prank. “Lan the Man!” the boy shouted, causing the girl to step back. “Jake! You shouted in my ear!” she chided, slapping her hand over her ear, “¡Calmate!”

Jake frowned. “Sorry, Ally.” he apologized, “I forgot to take my meds this morning, so I’m a little hyper-er than usual.”

“More hyper.” Ally corrected, “Jake, I’m not even from America and I have better grammar than you!” Landon snickered quietly. His friends always brightened his day, despite the fact that their backgrounds seemed somewhat gloomy.

For instance, Jacob Douglas was motherless. She had left the family several days after he was born and never returned. When Jake turned six, his father went back to school to study law and shortly after, Jake was diagnosed with A.D.H.D. He can hardly stay concentrated with meds, but when he’s off them, it is ten times worse.

Ally, on the other hand, was a very calm and introverted Latina. Her mom met her dad on a business trip to Mexico in 1997. A few years later, they married and moved to Mexico for some time. It was in Mexico that the brown-haired brown-eyed Alejandra “Ally” Rodríguez was born, but they relocated to the states when Ally was two and lived there ever since.

The three of them together made for quite the group of misfits, but Landon didn’t mind. Everyone knew everyone in their small town, and most residents were tolerant and accepting of cultural differences. It was one of the reasons that made their community so much of a melting pot. One could visit three random houses in Beaver Falls and learn something new from a different culture at each one.