We'll Find Each Other

This story was created BEFORE THE TWILIGHT SERIES so I did not follow all those cliché stories about werewolves. I swear. This is the story I created in my head (ha ha) while listening to my I-pod when I was in third grade-ish. I created the soundtrack, the cover, etc. Even which actors would play in it! I’ve started writing it multiple times, never really getting it right though. I think this time is going to go really well though. I hope ya guys like it!

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(not mean comments though, they really hurt authors)

            The rattling of pots and pans awoke Claire from her slumber. She opened her heavy eyelids, wishing she were with another one of her families. Instead, she was stuck here, in this old, British, cranky house. Claire was sixteen years old, and had barely just begun to develop her body. She looked like a plank of wood, so said by her previous little foster-sibling. Her bones creaked as if she were old; sometimes she actually believed she had been born backwards. She had come out old, and started getting younger each year, smaller, lighter, and quieter. It was easy to believe, what with her body becoming thinner as the months passed.

            “Claire, I need my bath!” Her foster mother yelled up to her. Sighing, Claire pushed the covers away and stepped into her only shoes. They were ratty little slip on pieces of cloth, poop brown. Clearly not her first choice, but her first family had bought them for her. 

            “Coming, which bath will it be?” Claire rushed around the upstairs hallway, gathering all the items needed for her foster-mother’s bath. She had one daily, and Claire had gotten past the gagging every time she bathed her.

            “I want the lavender soap, uhmmmm the bubbles, and I want it in the nice one, the porcelain one!” Claire relaxed slightly, knowing the bubbles would be slightly covering any of the woman’s nasty parts.

            Putting the right ingredients into her left arm, she quickly grabbed her coat in the right. She managed to pull her light purple jacket on while only dropping all of the items in her arms.

            “CLAIRE, stop being a clumsy little rat and get to my BATH!” Her foster mother screamed. Claire quickly picked up the stuff, and ran to the bathroom to start the bath. Her mind started to wander to all the other times she had to wake up this early.

            There was the time when, in her first foster family, the dog had accidentally ripped open the back screen door, letting an entire flock of geese into the house. The whole family had to get up to help get the geese out, while not being pooped on or hit in the face with wings. Although terrifying at the time, the family had laughed pretty hard about it afterwards. Then, in her seventh family, the kids had to get up everyday to tend to the farm. It was earlier than this, but worth it because it was so much fun. Claire had always wanted to live on a farm, ever since she saw one with her real parents when she was younger. She smiled at the fond memory.

            “Hey, stop smiling, is it ready?” Her foster mother barged into the bathroom and quickly undressed. Getting stuck on her pants as usual, Claire had to unbutton them. What a gross monster Claire thought.

            “Oh, by the way, we’re going into town today to visit the social worker. She told us she needs to meet, something about a monthly visit for a year or something…” Her foster mum mumbled off the end of the sentence. Claire’s heart stopped beating, and then returned in hyper-drive. She was going to see Sally?! The one who took her away from all of the bad families? The one who always let Claire have a say, and always trusted what she said? She couldn’t help the squeal that escaped her lips, or the broad smile coming onto her face.

            Putting up the towel for her foster-mother, Claire hurried out of the bathroom and ran upstairs to her bedroom. She went underneath her mattress, and looked at the only thing that’s ever been considered familiar.

            She was staring at the black box made from wood by her blood younger brother, with the words We’ll find each other carved on the front. The clasps on the front were simple, letting her open up the box quickly so she could see them. Pictures, of her real family, her doll (knitted by her mother), a book her father had bought her, and a key that she had found one time with her brother. The pictures were taken before the fire, when they were so happy: her parents, and her younger brother. There was one of them at the annual farm festivals, with the cotton candy sticking in her hair. Another one showed her and her brother mixing something in a bowl, with her father standing in the background with the biggest smile ever. That day was her mother’s birthday, and they had gotten up extra early to make her a birthday cake. She reminisced her mom coming down the stairs, only to be yelled “Surprise!” at by her children, who were covered in flour.

            Claire came across the last one, a picture taken a few weeks before the fire. It was of her entire family standing in front of the For Sale sign, behind them a huge farmhouse. You could see the fields in the distance. It was the house her mother had had her eye on forever. They would have been moving into it that fall. But then the fire happened, and then it was all a blur to Claire.

            Smiling at the pictures and other items, Claire closed the container holding her most precious objects. She held it close to her chest, and prayed. Prayed that today, Sally would ask to see her privately. Prayed that Sally would take her away from this home. Prayed that she would find another home, with kinder people. And she prayed to God that she could be reunited with her brother.