Promise Me //1D Completed [✔️]

Prologue

Tegan's P.O.V
Leyton, London
April 13th, 2012

~~~

Parentless (noun)
1. Having no parent or parents
2. Not cared for by parent surrogates
Variations: unparented.

What a stupid sounding noun. Parentless. No one says "orphan" anymore, but if you ask me, parentless doesn't sound any less depressing.

"Tegan, come on!" The familiar voice of my dear friend, Oliver, hollers.

"Since when do you get to rush me?" I ask, jumping on my bicycle.

Today is my twelfth birthday and lucky enough the bakery down the street is having a sale on their cupcakes. This morning we received our chore money from Mrs. Marjorie Willis, so Oliver and I immediately asked for permission to go down the street to the bakery. Mrs. Marjorie Willis gave us permission.

"I want to get there before they're all gone!" Oliver explains.

"You'll ride faster with your mouth shut." I tell him.

He didn't say anything back.

Soon enough, we arrive to the bakery, parking our bikes and hurrying inside.

Oliver eagerly opens the door, alarming the bell above our heads. We quickly walk over to the counter, the glass case of cupcakes next to it.

"Welcome!" The lady behind the counter greets us. "Anything I can help you guys with this afternoon?"

"Could I get the confetti one, please?" Oliver asks, politely.

"For me, I would like the chocolate one topped with loads of chocolate frosting, please."

"Coming right up!" She assures, enthusiastically.

Her hand covered in a glove, reaches into the cabinet and grabs our desired cupcakes. She places them on the counter, then rings up our purchase. We had her our money.

We exit the bakery, grabbing our bikes from out front.

"How do we ride our bikes with cupcakes?" Oliver asks.

"Oh, come on, Oliver don't be such a baby!"

"I'm not a baby!"

"Then get on your bike and ride."

"Okay," He shrugs. "But if I drop this cupcake, your next chore money goes to me."

"I'm not agreeing to that! You're a massive klutz."

We ride our bikes back in comfortable silence. I drop my bike in the grass lawn.

Mrs. Marjorie Willis started fostering children ten years ago. She is my eighth foster mom. Her and her husband, Markus Willis, do a pretty incredible job taking care of everyone. They're rather kind, never laid a hand on any of us. Markus Willis works on the railroad, when he comes around, it's like having a real dad show up. He teases and plays with us all.

Oliver and I sit on the porch, eating our cupcakes.

"These are delicious!" Oliver exclaims through a mouthful.

I turn my head towards him, noticing his face covered in frosting. I throw my head back, laughing.

"You've got a bit on your face." I tease.

He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth quickly.

A small white car pulls up in front of our house. A man got out and walks to the passenger side, opening the door, a woman steps out. They link hands and walk up the sidewalk.

"You think they're coming to look for a kid?" Oliver whispers to me.

"No, I think they're coming to look for circus elephants." I respond sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

The man and woman walk in between us on the steps and into our house. The woman smiles down at me as she passes me, but I've seen that smile a hundred times and I know she won't ever think about me.

"This foster care stuff is like growing up in a dog pound. Everybody wants a puppy." I groan.

"That's not true, the number of older kids getting officially adopted is increasing everyday."

I roll my eyes, taking another bite of my cupcake.

Silence with Oliver is never weird, it's comfortable silence. Oliver and I came into this foster home together. We've lived her for the last four years.

Our friendship was bumpy at first, but after the first year, we've been inseparable. Together, we've watched fellow foster children get reunified with their biological parents, change homes and even been to adoption court for a few.

Sometimes, it's hard to stay positive. I have no possible reunification with my parents in my future. I've been in the system since I was born. I don't know anything about my biological parents.

As much as I yank Oliver's leg, he's my best friend. I care about him deeply. More than I will ever care about any unreliable adult.

I know him better than any person. I know the way he likes his pancakes: chocolate chip with butter and drenched in syrup. I know that he collects Garfield Comic strips. I know that his favourite films are the "Back to the Future" series. I know him better than any person.

"I hope there isn't another thunderstorm tonight." Oliver breaks the silence.

"What's so scary about thunderstorms?" I ask.

"They're atrocious."

"Don't say atrocious, who are you? A papa?" I tease, shoving his shoulder. "Thunderstorms are peaceful. Rain, lighting, it's nice."

"Oh, Tegan, I know you adore rain. There has never been a rainy day you haven't pressured me into playing in it. I've never survived a rainy day with you without winding up sick!"

"What're you going on about? Sounds like you got a memory right there!" I point my index finger to my head, giving him a knowing look.

"You're loaded with crud, Swallows." Oliver shakes his head, squinting his eyes.

Until I met Oliver, I felt like I had spent my entire life holding my breath. Oliver is like a fresh inhale of air: reassuring, appreciated and needed.

~~~

Author's Note:

Ayeeeeee sexy lady okay, okay focus, Ty. So this story is much different from my other one. She's younger and has a different past. I don't like doing pasts of abuse, because I feel like everyone does that.

When I'm writing this I think of the movie "My Girl", with Anna Clumsky and Macaulay Culkin. I love that movie to pieces. It came out in 1991, it's on Netflix, you should watch it if you haven't!

One Direction won't come in till the third or fourth chapter.

I really hope you guys will enjoy this! Much love!

~Tyson McNugget

6.30.16