Roots

Chapter 1

Imagine dropping everything you're doing and having to move at a moment's notice. You only have a few minutes to throw everything you own all together. You shove everything into a plastic trash bag and say goodbye to everything you know. Then it's off to the next place, the next neighborhood, the next school, the next family, the next everything. You have a whole new set of rules to get used to, a new room, and a bunch of strangers. You stay with people you've never met before for who knows how long, and then when it's time to go again, you start the process all over again.

This is the essence of being a foster kid. You're never anywhere long enough.

I've always wondered why some kids get to keep their families and half of mine got ripped away from me. Is it all just a roll of the dice? My little sister, KJ, and I had great parents, but they died in a plane crash six years ago. We had no other family, so we went into the foster care system.

Ever since then, we've been in more foster homes than I can count. We basically move every couple of months. KJ and I have seen a lot of stuff in our lives so far. Some of our foster families give us what we need and are just distant and removed, like we're outsiders and not really part of the family. I mean, it's true. We're not their family. Others are just in it for the check that the government sends them every month. Some are pretty mean. Few seem to actually care about us.

Life isn't exactly a bed of roses being a foster child, so I'm not too excited about our next placement. Our social worker, Holly, chatters on about anything and everything: the weather, the eighties radio station we're listening to, and how nice the people at our next placement are. I mumble 'okay' and 'uh-huh' every few minutes or so. KJ is completely silent. She rarely ever talks to anyone but me.

We leave the city behind and enter into a more suburban part of Pennsylvania. We've been in the car all morning, since Holly picked us up at nine a.m. We left our last placement, a dinky apartment in Pittsburg with really mean foster parents Adam and Marcy, and now we're headed to someplace near Philadelphia. Windsor, or something like that. At least I think that's what Holly said.

It's a Wednesday in August. The air conditioning in the car is turned up full blast. Holly eventually gives up her mostly one-sided conversation and falls silent. After about a half hour of hearing nothing but the radio, Holly turns off a main road into a neighborhood. The houses here are all pretty large and look fairly new.

After turning onto a few different streets, Holly pulls into a driveway. It's just after eleven o'clock. I suppose we'll be eating lunch here.

Holly pulls up next to a blue Pilot and cuts the engine. KJ slowly reaches for her Pretty Pink Princess suitcase that Joe gave her. Joe was a nice guy KJ and I stayed with awhile back.

I have a navy blue duffel bag, and I pick it up from the floor of the car by my feet. I slowly get out of the car, straightening the strap of the duffel bag on my shoulder to make it more comfortable. When I shut the door, KJ is already standing on my side of the car, waiting for me. I stand next to my sister and we huddle together behind Holly.

As Holly leads the way to the porch, KJ and I look around at our new surroundings. There's a playset in the back along with a sandbox. There are nicely kept flower beds in the front with pink and orange flowers. When we step up on the porch, I notice that there's a porch swing on the right side. When I turn my head to the left, I see a gray storage chest. I turn my head straight ahead as Holly rings the doorbell. Dogs start barking and a woman comes to the door.

"Hi, welcome," the woman says as she opens the door, shooing two fluffy-looking dogs away from her feet. She is slightly taller than me and has auburn colored hair.