It was a new day i thought as i sat in my social workers car as we drove through Lancaster Texas towards the next family that was thinking about adopting me. My social worker told me it was a nice man who couldn't have kids.
I suppose i should introduce myself, my name is Mary Porter, i am a foster child and i am not jaded and depresses or angry, though many of the people in the "system" as we all call it are. Here we are she said as we pulled up to a large brick victorian styled home. 43 duvald lane. she said. I looked out from the back seat window, as i turned to look at them, do you know what they do for a living, i asked her. the man, Mr. Cato Renee is a Doctor, a hematologist she said to me. I looked at her my light brown eyes giving her a weird look.
Could this be any creepier a man probably in his sixties adopting a girl like me. It screamed pedophile, "and no he is not a pedophile." she said to me.
She knew me to well probably from all the time that she spent helping to get me out of juvie, multiple times i should add.
She opened the driver side door as I got out of the car and grabbed my small backpack and small beaten duffel bag that held my belongings. I closed the door behind me as my case worker stood beside me as we walked up the stairs.
the door was made of dark wood with an oddly shaped knocker, it was wrought iron in the shape of a bird.
My case worker reached for the knocker but the door opened.
YOU ARE READING
The Orphanage
PertualanganImagine feeling like your different, like you feel like your different, but you do not know for sure if you are different from the person that sits next to you in class, at school, this is how Mary Porter felt as she joined a new school and a new fa...
