Jauregui.

one

Averi's POV:

I woke up with a cold sweat from a recurring dream. This wasn't new for me. Calling my life a version of hell would be an understatement.

Hi. My name is Averi James. Averi Grace James, to be exact. 

Don't ask me how I got my name or anything. I wouldn't know. I'm a foster kid, and I currently live in a foster home in Miami, Florida. Technically, I was raised at Sunnyside Acres Girls Center, but have been at my foster home placement for three months. Miss Layla, my foster mom, owns the home that I live in. Foster mom is an overstatement though, as Miss Layla has done nothing but berate and neglect myself and the other two girls for the past few months, but especially me, for some reason. It's better than going back to the center, though. At least here I somewhat have a home. A place to call my own.

Anyways, back to me. I have brown hair and green eyes. I'm on the shorter side for my age,  but I don't mind. Like I said, I didn't know anything about myself, so one night, about two years ago when I was still in the center, I snuck into the office and found my file. Who my parents are is a mystery. All that was in my folder was my full name, age and date of birth, and ethnicity. I'm twelve years old and I was born in Miami, Florida on February 20, 2003 to a Cuban lady. From what I know, I was given up days after my birth. 

Now back to the present. I got up from my shared bunk and walked to the bathroom, locking the door behind me. In the home I currently live in, there are three girls total, including me. There were two bedrooms, so I shared one with another girl, and the other girl who had been here longer got her own. I stared at the ceramic toilet bowl, eyeing it. When I was in the center, I had heard the older girls' whispers about making themselves throw up to stay thin. They said that families only wanted tiny and skinny kids, so this was the only way. Maybe that was why I hadn't gotten adopted yet. Shrugging off those thoughts, I washed my face and walked back to my bunk.

It was 5:42 AM and so, I put on my headphones and turned on the old iPhone that I had saved many years for and changed the music to my favorite group. Fifth Harmony. As cliché as it sounds, these five girls' voices are the only thing that can calm me. 

I sat up, not realizing that I had fallen asleep. It was 7:11 AM, which meant that I had missed breakfast. I sprinted fast and turned the corner, before bumping into something soft. As I looked up, I was met with Miss Layla who scoffed at me. I don't know why she would take kids in, if she hated them so much.

"Oops, you're late! No food for you! It's not like you need it anyway," Miss Layla snickered and I just looked down. There was no point in arguing with her, so I silently nodded. The other two girls looked at me knowingly. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Talia, one of the girls, slowly grabbed a piece of toast from her plate and brought her hand under the table. I walked by, and quickly grabbed it, before putting it in the pocket of my jacket. 

We weren't allowed to go to the backyard or front yard without permission, so I looked to ensure that Miss Layla wasn't there, before I snuck out quietly. As I silently ate my toast, walked down the street and around the corner, which was filled with a row of small stores and shops. I went into a tiny bookstore which was owned by a kind, elderly lady named Miss Lisa.

"Mornin' Ave" Miss Lisa said as I came here every day.

"Morning Miss Lisa" I replied and went to the bookshelves, turning on the small radio next to some of the books.

"GOOOOD MORNING MIAMI!!" the radio man exclaimed and talked about some local news which didn't interest me, until he said something that made me look up from the book I was reading.

"If you want to win an exclusive VIP ticket to the show of the girl group Fifth Harmony next week in Miami, be caller 727 to this number 1-800-123-4567." I leaped up from my seat and ran to the front desk.