Being in a group home wasn't ideal for anyone, but for the six teenagers, it was the best they could get out of the crappy system. In other's eyes, it was an odd way to form a friend group bonding over being in the same abusive home. But in their ey...
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I lean my head on the chilly window, ignoring my social worker's crappy Hits 1 radio in the back.
"Almost there!" She smiles at me through the rearview mirror. The lady seems nice—nervous though.
"Well Walker, this family is very nice. Lives in a nice neighborhood, good school system, and you might even have a few siblings."
I grunt, staring down at the photo clutched in my hands. I want everything to go back to normal. Normal being having to walk around on eggshells around our caretakers but still.
We've been driving for a few hours now on our way to a small town in Connecticut filled with trophy wives and sons in Little League.
I must have zoned out for a while because before I knew it we were pulling up to a white mini-mansion, and a golden retriever was running around in the front yard.
I narrow my eyes at it. Do I like dogs? I don't know, do I?
"Ready?" My social worker whose name I forgot smiles brightly. She steps out of the car and comes around to open my door.
"Sooo ready," I drawl out.
She laughs, "Well aren't you a hoot! I'm sure they will love you."
I send her a small smile, A for effort I guess.
We walk up the stone path and to the double oak doors. She doesn't enough have to knock before the door is thrown open.
"Hello!" The woman smiles brightly, she has bleach blonde hair the type you see in commercials.
"Mark is on a call with the contractors right now, but would you like to come in?" She opens the door wider but when my social worker makes it through the door and I go to follow behind her she stops me.
"Do you mind wiping off your shoes? I'm sorry they just look a little... filthy."
I look down at my sneakers, a few days Quinn drew different stick fingers on the toe—I thought they looked good but I guess not.
I obey her, wiping my feet on the welcome mat before stepping into the house.
"Ella! Drew!" She clasps her hands together when a girl my age with the same bright blonde hair tied up in a ponytail comes down the stairs.
"Who's this?"
Her mom smiles at her like she just gave a presidential speech and then won a Grammy.
"Ella... this is Walker. The emergency placement I told you about."
She looks completely uninterested, nodding her head before grabbing a set of car keys. "Me and Marykate are going to get the banner from school and then come work on it here, is that fine?"
"Of course." With that Ella squeezes past us and runs to a black shiny car.
"Oh! Excuse me, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Margret."
"Okay and you've filled out all the paperwork, and a house check has already been approved. There's nothing much left for me to do here."
My social worker gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze before passing a few papers to Margret. With that she turns on her heel, walking out onto the porch, closing the door behind her.
A tall burly man dressed in work clothes walks out of a doorway, his eyes focused on an expensive silver watch on his wrist.
He glances up, looking at me. "New placement?"
His wife hums, giving me a tight lipped smile. "Well," she breaks the silence by pointing at the stairs. "Would you like to see your room?"
I nod, looking around at all the fancy decorations. As we walk up the stairs she says, "Now, I'm not new with this foster care crap. I know how you kids are. Don't think you can pull some sneaky stuff behind my back."
I raise a brow, having heard this whole thing a million times. What do you expect when you put a kid in a unknown house with people they don't know and zero supervision.
When we make it onto the second floor she keeps walking to another staircase. As we walk at up that she continues talking. "Rules, chores done by supper, no leaving your room after eight, no friends over, school and back, don't leave your room unless you have to. That's pretty much it."
On the third floor is what I am assuming is a hangout room, or a bonus room.
She walks behind the couch to a door, opening to reveal a small room. The twin bed is pressed up against one wall, at the foot of the bed is a window with a towel over it.
Parallel from the bed is an old wooden dresser. I sigh, shuffling in and placing my bag on the bed. She immediately closes the door behind me.
I kick off my shoes, laying on the bed. Back at the apartment with Robby all I had to be afraid of was not fucking up and getting caught, other then that I could pretty much do whatever I wanted.
But now, I was with some uptight rich family who wanted to keep me hidden away as possible.
I wonder where the others are right now, or if Ares is even alive. He probably is, mother fucker has the survival instincts of a roly-poly.
I'd like to think that one day we will all reunite again. I mean most of us spent half of our lives with each other. And to think that, that was the end of it makes me want to throw up.
I dig in my bag, pulling out the picture that Karla took of all of us. I was going to see them again, all of them.
I wedged the picture between the wall and my bed frame. It didn't matter that I was at a new house. It was just a road bump in my life, all my friends were going through the same thing. And that always lead us back to each other.
