CECE, DISRESPECTFULLY | ✓

69: UNCAGED

            The plains outside the car windows are dandruffed with snow. Remnants of wheat and barley barb from the mud. A few horses and cows still venture outside and I beam each time I see one.

Some of them are dressed in horse jackets with their ears tucked into bonnets. Whoever decided to make hats for horses should be knighted or summat. Absolute brilliance!

'You've not come at the best season.'

I turn from the scenery of rural West Country to Bobbi.

She insisted I call her that instead of Ms Emmerson when she picked me up from the train station. Which I call a train station extremely leniently considering it were an unshielded platform surrounded by acres and acres of absolutely nothing.

She's dressed in patched jeans and a knitted jumper, ginger curls gathered into two cornrows, and her brown face is so freckled it almost looks dirty. Some of it might be dirt, judging by the soil stuck beneath her fingernails.

'But trust me,' she continues, 'in a few months you'll be awestruck by how beautiful it gets.'

Bold of her to assume I'll be here in a few months.

My phone buzzez, saving me from having to respond.

Diwa🐞: Hope it's going ok 💞 Ring me when you're free?

You: first of all if you're gonna be a lesbian u have to turn off ur autocaps

You: but yeah its good so far

You: she's nice

You: i think

You: will phone later

'I talked with the headteacher at our local school,' Bobbi says when I lock the phone screen. 'They said they'd be happy to have yeh, if you fancy.'

I tuck my new braids behind my ears though they immediately fall back to frame my face. 'If I fancy?'

'I'm not gonna force you into school. It's your choice.'

It's a trap. Has to be. I mean... she's been way too nice so far.

I force the logical part of my consciousness to ignore that voice. She's the one who decided to start a foster home for problem kids. What, is she gonna be all shocked when the kids have problems? Bobbi got herself into this all on her own.

'Have I gotta do year twelve over or could I start right away?' I ask.

'Up to you.'

Not ready to commit to any answer yet, I turn back to the window.

I'm hardly buzzed at the thought of school or being stuck in it for a year longer than necessary, but if I'm gonna make it work here, a proper fresh start might be best. If I stay back a year, I'd only go back to school in September which gives me half a year to work on the worst of my issues. So maybe I won't maul someone on my first day at school.

If I stay back a year, I can pick different subjects. I might be able to blackmail them to let me take art without a GCSE—or, like, I mean, I could ask politely.

'Lucky you, we've got three rooms vacant so you can choose for yerself.'

No excitement bubbles up in me. The tone of Bobbi's voice functions as a glaring warning sign that reads BOREDOM AHEAD. Her letting me pick my room is only a way to manipulate me to give in to whatever demands she has next. I've seen it before.