Foster Kids

Chapter Five

Two days later and change was yet to occur.

The previous day was much like the first - Greg and Linda proved further that they were incapable to care for the five foster kids properly. They failed to feed them breakfast and then had them clean the stacks of grimy dishes while they smoked what Harry hoped was just tobacco in the lounge.

Louis was still acting as though Harry didn't exist and when he was forced to acknowledge the kid's presence, he spat his words with venom and picked at Harry's every action.

The treatment was clearly deliberate, Louis' attitude towards the other three was painfully dissimilar. He treated Zayn like a best friend - the banter and laughter from the prior day still rang in Harry's ears as he listened with slight envy.

Louis respected Liam in a certain light, and it was clear, he appreciated the way the younger teenager took charge and consoled them all when they needed reassurance.

He often smiled over Niall fondly, a look of adoration replacing his usual sour expression whether it was because of the kid's antics or clear happiness that the blonde somehow managed to maintain despite the circumstances and harsh environment.

Harry wanted, to a hurtful extent, for himself to have the same effect on Louis. Not to be a suck up, or for the sake of making friendships that would be forgotten within years as the kids embarked on the independent life they've dreamed of since being put in the foster system, but to feel welcome and to be put at ease as he isolated himself in a bedroom with the four others.

The boy knew he'd only been at the foster place for barely two days and it took time for people to warm up to one another, especially when they could have a past of the most unpredictable value, especially when one took into account what Louis had let slip on Harry's first night, but the treatment was still oppressing.

On the sunlit Tuesday morning, the weather reflecting the opposite of Harry's current spirit as the kid's face was healing in a sore way on his tender skin, the five boys were downstairs, sat at the table with a bowl of cold porridge in front of each of them.

Greg had, unexpectedly, called them down for breakfast at a relatively early hour, claiming that they had out of date porridge oats that had to be eaten.

Both adults were in the kitchen too, Linda rolling a cigarette on the side and Greg rummaging through the cupboards, probably trying to find a morning snack consisting of some sugary packaged food.

It was noiseless, the foster kids put at unease just by their foster parents presence.

As Harry swallowed his third mouthful of porridge, the landline phone rang.

The ringtone rung throughout the house, blaring and constant.

"Fuck sake" Harry heard Greg murmur beneath his breath as the man kicked the cupboard door closed and rushed, as fast as a man of his weight could, to the kitchen windowsill where the phone was, plugged into a half broken extension chord.

With all the kids eyes on him, he picked it up and held it to his ear. "Hello?" He answered sharply, clearly irritated as he often was.

The man's eyes widened as he listened to the response from the other line.

After a moment, he stuttered out a response; "Oh, yes, it - it's Greg. Harry's been doing fine, uh, he's settled in good, nicely"

Mandy.

"Speak to him?" Greg questioned in a surprised tone, his fat fingers stroking at his stubble anxiously.

"O - okay" He said, peeling the phone from his ear and walking towards Harry. The forty-something year old sent the teenager an admonitory glance, telling him mutely that he better not do anything he'd end up regretting as he passed over the phone, much to his own consternation.