I don't know yet???

six

It was happening. Charlotte was finally getting a foster home.

    The news came at lunch on a Saturday. It was the beginning of December, and it was sunny and clear in the sky. North Carolina was always pretty warm in early winter. Charlotte liked that.

    Two weeks after they found out, Charlotte and her siblings left for the new place. It was half an hour away, in a direction that was further inland (Charlotte wasn't too happy about that; she loved the ocean). The were leaving at noon, so Charlotte figured she should make the most of the time.

    Charlotte wasn't attached to the house. She was attached to the memories, the world outside, and the people. At five in the morning, before the sun had even risen, she crawled out of bed, disarmed the security system (Cole had taught her once, right before he left. He'd seen Chuck and Georgia doing it all the time and always watched for the code), and ran down to the ocean.

    It was dark and calm. She laid back in the sand, letting herself sink in, and waited for the sun to rise. And when it did peek out across the horizon, all was beautiful. The water (as well as the sky) was full of vibrant buttercup yellows and relay cone oranges and bright bubblegum pinks. She'd miss the way the water swirled and the way the sand washed away under her feet.

    After that she went back inside and crawled into bed and pretended to be asleep, before Georgia came in to wake her up with a gentle voice and a soft smile.

    They had pancakes for breakfast. At the group home, they never had much more than sausage or cereal before, so that was a welcome surprise. It was something Georgia hadn't done when Cole and his siblings left, which made Charlotte a little more confident. Maybe Georgia and Chuck really had liked her after all.

    After breakfast, Charlotte went back to her room to finish packing. Eleanor had been waiting for her, sitting daintily on the edge of her bed, legs crossed, sad smile on her face. "Hi, Char," she said with a sigh.

    Charlotte narrowed her eyes. "Are you doing alright?" she asked.

    "Eleanor shrugged. "I guess."

    Charlotte nodded, grabbing the freshly-folded pile of clothes sitting next to her bed and neatly putting them in her bag. It was all perfectly stacked, perfectly lined up, and perfectly done.

    Eleanor sighed. "I'm suppose' ta give you somethin'. I don' wanna, though."

    "Why not?" Charlotte questions, eyebrows furrowing. "What are you even supposed to give me?"

    "Cole made us things before he lef'. Lil poems and stories and drawins' and letters. He tol' me tha' I should give it to you when you leave, take mine when I leave. Bu' I don' wanna."

    "Why don't you want to?"

    "Because I'm never leavin', Char. I'm never gettin' whatever it is he made me. I'm jealous, an' I guess I'm gonna let it control me."

    "You're leaving someday. I guarantee you that. You'll get it someday, and I bet you'll get it someday soon. If I can get out, so can you. I know it."

    Eleanor smiled softly, looking up at Charlotte with wide brown eyes. "You promise?"

    "Of course I do."

    "Thank you."

    Eleanor got up from her bed and left the room without a word. Charlotte sighed, zipping up her bag and putting it on top of the bed. She laid back against the soft pillows, sinking in and closing her eyes.

    Then Eleanor's voice came from the doorway, whispering, "Charlotte?"

    "Yes?"

    "I got it," she said, placing an envelope in Charlotte's hand.

    Charlotte looked down, instantly recognising the half-cursive, half-printing of Cole's handwriting. Charlotte Hart, it said simply. She had never liked her name, but it was beautiful in the smudged, curling graphite lines on the paper in front of her.

    She opened up her bag, set it inside, at the very top, and then shut it again. "Thank you," she said to Eleanor.

    "Leas' I can do," she said. "I'm gonna miss you when you're gone."   

    Charlotte shrugged. "I'll call."

    "Sure, you will. You, Char, will forget. I know it. I'll call you, though. You can' escape me."

    "I wouldn't want to, Eleanor."

    They sat there for a little while, talking about easier stuff, like annoying kids at school and the inaccuracy of Disney shows. Then Georgia called Charlotte into the foyer. Charlotte grabbed her bag, hugged Eleanor goodbye, and left.

    The car ride was long and boring, and Charlotte got sick to her stomach whenever she tried to read something. Faith stared out the window, watching the billboards pass, and Piper never stopped talking. Blake was quiet, just like he always was. But then the car ride was over.

    This house was different. It was white with red accents around the window and door, and it was quite a bit smaller than the other house. An older woman came out the door as soon as they pulled up, holding a plate full of white-frosted sugar cookies.

    Charlotte immediately decided that Mrs. Fischer was very nice, and that she would like it there. The neighbor kids came over to introduce themselves, and by the end of that everyone had made a few friends. She thought it would be easy here. She was ready for something easy.

    Right before bed, Charlotte opened her bed to get her pajamas on. There was the letter, right on top, taunting her a little. She set it at the bottom of the drawer in her nightstand, trying to pretend it wasn't there.

    Charlotte didn't want to miss the old house. She liked the new place well enough, and besides, missing things you'd never get back was pointless.

    She didn't want to miss it, but Charlotte certainly did. She missed it so much she couldn't sleep that night, even with the sweet silence and the smell of baking wafting through the house. Always, no matter what, the missing was permanently too strong.

A/N: this is so bad but i'm lazy and don't care

thnks fr th reads