Statues

Chapter 2

Azalea

"This stinks," Coen mumbled after school.
"I know. We didn't even do anything!" I exclaimed. "Why should we have to be punished?"
"No, I mean this garbage," he replied, holding up what he'd collected so far. "It stinks."
Oh. "Well, whatever. Hey Grayson, are you okay?" I asked. "You haven't said anything since you walked out of that office this morning."
"I've just never gotten in trouble like this before, that's all," Grayson replied. Coen didn't react.
"Hey, weren't we supposed to be let off trash-duty ages ago?" he asked.
Technically, we were supposed to be let out half an hour ago, but knowing our teachers, they probably forgot about us.
"Let's just ditch. We already had half an hour of overtime, anyways," Grayson stated. "We can go to my house." So with that, we ditched the trash bags and headed to Grayson's.
~•~
I love Mrs. Hill. She's the classic type of mom who is always smiling, always hugging, and always has snacks on the table. Which is why it was no surprise that the smell of chocolate chip cookies hit us like a brick wall.
"Hey, Mrs. Hill. Are those cookies?" Coen asked. I punched him in the arm.
"Have some manners!" I whispered. Classic Coen. Zero manners whatsoever.
"Yes, in fact they are, Coen. Why don't you guys go up to Gray's room and I'll bring them up when they're done," she replied.
~•~
So, I guess it's time to talk about my story.
First, I guess I should tell you the basics. I'm 15, I'm 5'7", my birthday is April 30th, I have frizzy, red hair, green eyes, and freckles sprayed across my face. I live in a small town a while away from Brooklyn, NY.
My parents put me up for adoption when I was born. I grew up in a dingy little orphanage in Brooklyn. For nine years, all I knew were the walls that surrounded me. That's when they put me in the foster care system. They never put me in it earlier because I regularly helped out at the orphanage; taking care of the younger kids, helping with meals, that kind of stuff. So after they entered me in the program, I went to a house a couple hours away with a man I had never met. I admit, I was terrified. I mean, what nine year old wants to leave everything they know behind to live with a man they've never even seen before? However, after a while, I realized that this man was like the father I never had. He didn't have a wife, so he had to deal with my constant complaining, hunger, and frizzy hair. But he never complained. He went to work while I was at school and was back home an hour after I got back. That's what it's become by that point. Home. He became my best friend; I've never had a best friend before that.
About three years later, when I was twelve, he died in a car crash. I had no one left to go to. This was around the time I met the two boys I call my best friends. Actually, scratch that. They're my family. Luckily, I got put into a home in the same school district. Before them, I never really had any friends. I was the background girl. The girl-who-sits-behind-you-in-math-but-you-don't-remember-her-name girl.
We met in art class, when we got put together for a group project. When our teacher called our names, we all kind of looked at each other. I could already tell we were about to become best friends. We ended up going to Grayson's house a lot to work on it, and three years later we find ourselves doing the same thing. Except, this time, we're up here eating his mom's famous chocolate chip cookies. So, yeah. That's what's led up to my life so far.