Chapter Three: I Don't Play the What if...? Game

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Chapter Three: I Don't Play the What if...? Game

My phone's alarm went off at 7:00 am, giving me an hour to get ready for the DNA test. Washing my face, I looked in the mirror at myself and shook my head in disbelief. How could this happen to me? This was obviously the luckiest break I'd ever had, now, I knew that something would happen soon to kill my happiness, again. With a glare at myself, Be HAPPY!I comanded my brain and went downstairs to get some toast or something. I found bread and hard boiled eggs in the fridge so I stuck the toast in the toaster and dropped the egg on the counter to make it’s shell crack. Running cool water over my egg, I peeled the shell off and then dried the egg on a paper towel. Grabbing a plate, a knife, and the butter, I stuck my egg on the plate and went back to the toaster to grab my toast.When Dad came downstairs, I was sitting at the counter, finishing my breakfast.

"You almost ready to go?" he asked. His composure was so cool, you'd think a regular day not the day to find out if he had a daughter or not. I on the other hand, was freakingout inside. My brain was betraying my cool composure.

What if Mom lied?

What if Dad wasn't my Dad?

What if I have to go back to my foster home in Chicago?

What if I made a mistake in coming with Dad here?

What if this a total waste of time?

You don't play the What If game. So STOP it.I ordered myself.

“I guess,” I shrugged. May as well get it over with.

* * *

“Well, Mr. Sommers, your suspisions have been confirmed,” the doctor informed Dad. He gave me the ‘told you so’ look and thanked the doctor. Dad, payed and we walked out to the car. I opened the door to the mercedes and slid into the passenger seat.

“So I guess I’ll be going to Wickford Prep?” I phrased my statement as a... sort of question.

“Yes, you’ll start tomorrow, I’ll take you to the school, get you signed in and get your schedule.”

“And I heard a motorcycle last night, are there a lot up here?” I tried to see if I could recognize anything outside.

“No there’s only a few, you probably heard Eli Delattre,” Dad rolled his eyes. “You met his father, he's my business partner."

“Okay."

“I’m also going to legally adopt you, so that the social services can’t take you away,” he disclosed the problems with not having legal guardianship of me. “I need to go to work, so I’ll drop you off at the house and you can spend the day with Rachel. she’ll probably take you around town and get you some more clothes.”

True to his word, he dropped me off and Rachel immediately swooped in and took me right back out the door. She grabbed her purse and her keys and in a few minutes, I was again in the car speeding down the road towards town.

* * *

"I think you'll really like this store," Rachel dragged me intoMARCIE'S and my mouth dropped in wonderment at all of the clothes. I had never seen so many clothes all in the same place for someone (ME!) to choose from. "I'm sorry I dragged you out before tea but Chris told me you needed more clothes."

"I do," I admitted, "I ran away from my foster family and I only had three really old outfits."

"Well, we'll fix that," Rachel tugged me into the store and told me to start finding things to try on.

Two hours and what seems like ninety million shopping bags later, we went to a little coffee shop on the corner. Rachel and I each got a white chocolate mocha. It was the first coffee I'd ever had, that wasn't made out of my foster parent's crap coffee maker, and it tasted like heaven.

"So where are you from," Rachel inquired as she took a sip of her tea. I almost laughed because of how elegently proper it looked.

"New York," I found my voice, "With my foster parents. Parent."

"That's so funny! I run a dance studio in Manhatten," Rachel smiled.

"Maybe I've heard of it," I concluded. I had lived in Manahatten after all. "What's the name?"

"Belle Pointe," she grinned. "It means Beautiful Art."Crap. That was the dance studio I danced at.

"I've only seen it from the back room," I confessed.

"What?"

"I uh, borrowed your back room with the one sided window to uh, practice because I never had the money to get lessons," I nervously played with the fringe of the table cloth.

"Really?!" Rachel squealed. "Now, I'll have to see you dance! If you're good enough I can help you enter compititions and get accepted to Julliard!"

"Seriously? You'd do that for me?" I gasped.

"You're my niece! Of course! But only if you've got talent. I'll get an old friend of mine to evaluate you. She works at your school," Rachel explained.

"Thank you so much," I cried, "Just for giving me a chance!" Rachel smiled and pulled me into a hug.

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Editing this is a slow proccess so please bear with me plus if you see a mistake like that Eva is in here instead of Rachel please tell me!

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