Triple Trouble

chapter one

"Punch buggy blue!" I lightly punch Martha's shoulder.
She giggles.
Martha is my advisor at the orphanage. She takes me to and from the foster homes that I'm assigned to. She's basically my mother. I've never met my real mother, and all of the foster mothers that I've had have never rubbed off on me like this woman has.
She's in her mid forties, she has a steady job, and she still takes the time to call me every day to make sure that I'm doing okay. She also visits me every Sunday. Sunday's are usually my favorite day of the week, but today is not a fun Sunday. Today, I'm on the way to meet my new foster family.
My last foster home didn't go well. I was in a house with two young parents and their four screaming children. All of their kids were under the age of four, and they were all wild. I could tell they had only fostered me so that they would have someone to help take care of all of the screaming children running rampant around their home.
Eventually, I got sick of it, and I said some not so nice things to the oldest child, Ricky. He was such a spoiled brat, and "Mama's little baby didn't deserve to be treated that way," so I was sent back to the state orphanage for three more months.
Most of the people that I know from the orphanage have only been sent to two or three homes. The home that I am on the way to is my eighteenth. I'm not sure why so many families have taken me in.
I've had a bad experience in all of the homes with the parents. I tend to not be able to control my temper. Although, there was one couple that I actually enjoyed being with. When I was fifteen, I was fostered by an elderly couple for eight months, but they got into a very bad car wreck. They both survived, but they were injured badly and needed to stay in a nursing home for the remainder of their living years.
I miss them. I don't want to go to another home. It will probably just be another bad experience. I tend to have quite a lot of those.
"Martha," I say, looking out of the window, "can you tell me about the family that is fostering me again?"
She had mentioned it about two weeks ago, but my now I have forgotten everything.
"It's a middle aged couple with three boys," she says, keeping her eyes on the road.
"Do you know the ages of the boys?"
"Stop stressing, love."
I sigh, "I hope the are older; I cannot deal with more little kids,"
Martha grins, "you'll be okay, sweetheart."
"I hope so,"
      We drive another half an hour down the highway in silence.
     I hear Martha's phone blurt out to take the next exit.
     "We are only about thirty minutes away," Martha says, her eyes on the road. Her voice sounds distant.
     "Okay," I say, trying to keep my voice even.
     We drive down many roads with lots of twists and turns. It feels to be much longer than half of an hour. It must be my anxiety. I have horrific anxiety. I'm always so nervous and so scared for anything and everything new. My stomach feels like a pit. I try to focus on my breathing. I always feel like I'm going to mess everything up; I always mess everything up. I hope this home is a good one. I despise this feeling.
     After what feels like an eternity, we pull into a winding driveway. The property is rather large. We drive up to this large house, and Martha gets out.
     "Let me make sure that this is the right house," she says before walking to the front door.
     I hear faint talking, and Martha returns. She nods her head, and I open my car door.
     Martha and I go to the back of her suv and unload my bags. I have quite a lot of things, considering I've been in so many different homes. All the things that my old foster parents have given me have added up. In most of the homes I've stayed at, the foster parents tend to buy me lots of clothes as soon as I arrive.
     I take out one suitcase and a duffle bag. Martha gets another suitcase and a larger duffle bag out.
     A lady, whom I assume is my foster mom, comes out of nowhere to the back and takes the cage with my cat, Cuddles, without a word.
     We take all of my things to the foyer of the house, and the lady disappears after setting down Cuddle's cage. I look around. This is the largest house I've stayed in. It's very open, and many of the things that I can see look mighty expensive.
     I hear a lady's voice  call, "In here, sweetheart!"
     I take the duffle bag, set it on top of my suitcase, and grab Cuddle's cage. We hobble towards the sound of the voice.
     In the living room, there is a middle aged couple. There is a different woman. She is standing up, smiling, looking at me, and the man is reading a book.
     The lady stands up, "Hello! You must be Olivia! I'm so happy to meet you! Let me show you to your room."
     She offers to take the large duffle bags from Martha and I, and she leads us up a long flight of stairs. We turn right and then left, and she shows me a room at the end of the hallway.
     "This room will be yours," she sets the duffle bags onto my bed.
     The room is spectacular. My bed is a king size, I have a walk in closet, and my own bathroom!
     "Wow," I say in awe. I set down Cuddle's cage and let him out. He meows and purrs as I pet him.
     "We have a litter box and food set up down stairs, what is it's name?" The lady bends down to pet Cuddles.
     "His name is Cuddles,"
     "He's beautiful," She strokes his fluffy creme fur.
"Thank you!" I grin, "He is a sweet heart, and I promise he won't be any trouble,"
"He is no problem at all," she stands up, "our maid, she helped you carry your things earlier, will be taking care of feeding the cat and cleaning out his litter box,"
"There's no need for that I can-"
"Esmeralda can do it just fine," she interrupts me.
I nod my head and clear my throat.
I stand up and walk over to my bags.
"Let's have dinner before you unpack," the lady stops me, "we can't wait to get to know you!"
"Oh, yes ma'am,"
She walks out of the room and I follow her down the stairs.
She leads me to the kitchen. The lady who carried Cuddles inside is placing plates of food on the table.
I smile at her, "thank you,"
Esmeralda seems surprised by my gratitude, and she smiles back, "you're welcome,"
"Well, you guys seem to have everything in place," Martha says, "call me tonight, kid." she rubs my head.
"Bye Martha," I hug her, "I'll miss you,"
She leaves.
I turn to see that the man is now sitting at the table.
The table is big enough to fit six people, but only three of the places are occupied.
"I'm so sorry, we forgot to introduce ourselves, I'm Linda," the lady begins, "it's so nice to meet you, Olivia."
"You too, and you can just call me Liv," I pick up my fork and look to the food on my place. It's a nice and large, juicy steak, a large helping of macaroni, and some green beans. Esmeralda brings a glass of ice water for me, and she places it beside my plate.
"I'm Tom," the man says, looking at his plate.
"The boys are at lacrosse practice right now, they should be back around the time dinner is done," Linda clarifies.
"Boys?" I raise my eyebrows.
"We have triplets. Did you not know?"
"Somewhat." I comment, taking s bit of macaroni.
"They are seventeen. You are too, correct?" Linda says, taking a bite of her steak.
     I nod my head and gulp down my bite of macaroni.
I'm also seventeen.
This can not turn out good.
Triplet boys. My age. This house is going to be full of drama. Who would think bringing me here would be a good idea?
I just nod my head and eat my already cut into pieces steak.
The rest of dinner is filled with Linda asking me questions about myself.
Tom is not a very talkative man at all. The only words I've heard him say were his name.
When I was 14, I was fostered by a middle aged man who reminds me a lot of Tom, now that I think of it. The man was kept to himself, and I never understood why he fostered me.
When he did speak, it was only fierce words of hatred to tell me how terrible I was. His drunken alter ego was the antichrist. That was the only house that I physically could not take. I had to tell Martha of my situation. It took her months to convince the state government to release me.
In the mean time, I took harsh beatings and immense physical abuse. I still have many scars today. The older couple fostered me after him. I don't think I'd be the same today without them. They were so kind to me. They were so caring and supportive. I hope that Tom is different than that man. I hope he's loving. I hope Tom cares.
At the end of dinner, Esmeralda takes all of our plates, cups, and silverware and begins to wash them in the kitchen sink.
"You can go upstairs now to unpack," Linda suggests, "the boys will be home in ten minutes. One just texted me saying they were running late."
"Are the triplets identical?" I ponder.
"No," Linda grins, "they aren't."
I nod my head and walk slowly up the stairs. I take deep breaths. In and out. In and out. I take a right and then another right. I walk to the end of the hallway and I see Cuddles slip into my room.
"Cuddles," I call, following him.
I open the door and realize this is not my room. This is the room of one of the triplets.
The room is larger than mine and the walls are navy. The bed is a king size and it's unmade. There are things all over the floor: clothes, books, papers, and lacrosse balls.
I look around for Cuddles. He's no where in sight. I walk into the connected bathroom. It is also a mess.
There's shaving cream and toothpaste slightly smeared on the counter. I look behind the shower curtain, and I see Cuddles, purring.
"Come on, silly," I pick him up in my arms, "This isn't our room; we have to leave the triplets alone,"
I go back into the room and see one of the triplets. His back is facing me and he's shirtless. I can tell by his back that he's ribbed.
Suddenly, I step onto a lacrosse ball and loose my footing. I collapse to the floor and Cuddles hisses and runs out of the room.
The boy turns around, "what are you doing in here?"
I was right, he's incredibly ribbed. He's a radically beautiful boy. He's got a sharp jawline, glowing green eyes, and messy dirty blonde hair. He's covered in a sheen of sweat, so he looks like he's glowing. He's perfect.
I stand up, "I'm sorry. I thought this was my room, and then my cat ran in here. I just didn't want my cat to disturb you."
     "Don't come in here again." He growls. His eyes are piercing with anger.
     "I'm so so sorry," I head for the door.
      I open the door and take a step out when the boy calls in a totally different tone of voice, "You're the new girl we are fostering, right?"
      "Yes," I stand up straighter, "I am."
He nods his head and turns back around. His eyes had shifted to look incredibly kinder. I immediately walk out of the door and down the hall to find my room. I go inside and unpack my duffle bag.
I hang all of my shirts in the closet and fold the rest of my clothing items into the big drawers. The drawers are navy; they match the pattern on my bedspread.
After I unpack all of my things, I sit on my bed and grab my telephone. I immediately call Martha.
"Hey, Liv! How are things going? I just got home. Did you meet the boys? What are they like? How old are they?" She picks up after two rings and started rambling a million questions.
"Woah, Martha! Slow your roll there," I grin, "I've only met one of them. Cuddles ran into his room, so I had to go retrieve him. Linda said they are seventeen like I am, which is just a situation set up for disaster. I have a strong feeling that things are not going to go well for me,"
"Olivia!" Martha laughs, "You've only been there for two hours. Please try to be positive for me. Linda seems like such a sweet lady. This will be a wonderful home for you. I love you, sweet girl. My husband needs me-I've gotta go."
"I love you, too" I mumble, "Talk to you tomorrow?"
"I call you at eight tomorrow night,"
"Okay,"
"Please be strong for me,"
I nod my head. "Of course."

authors note/
i started my other book up too. i figures why not lol. hope you enjoyed. i'll update at some point maybe. i'm quite busy but i like writing. thanks for reading.
bailey