Oh Brother (Watty Awards)

Chapter 1

New school, new life, and soon to be new parents. I've had so many sets, I've given up on calling them mom and dad and just refer to them by the name they signed to the papers before they got me. I'm an orphan, always have been, probably always will be. It used to bother me but now it's just water under the bridge.

Moving has become a regular thing for me, I don't even bother unpacking. I've had about fifteen different homes since I was three. Maybe more but numbers don't matter here. Hey! Don't try to pen this on me. I was a good kid. Fabulous to be exact. I tried so hard to do right, every time a family sent me back they gave the same excuse. And I quote, 'She gives the family a bad vibe.'

Like, what in the fuck does that mean anyway? You don't want me because I make you nervous? How does a three year old make someone nervous? Any way, I've never stayed in the same place for than a year or so. I'll be sixteen in a couple of months so that is about right.

The people at the orphanage said that this time I'll have an older brother and younger sister. I've had so many brothers and sisters it's not even funny. The last house I live in, I shared a room with a bitch named Samantha. I said bitch because that's exactly what she was. She was always complaining about every little thing I did and when we were in school, she made sure her little friends irritated me. Like I said, bitch.

I'm sitting in the tiny, enclosed, waiting room waiting on my 'parents' to finish signing the paperwork. For some reason it has always smelled like chalk in here. I rolled my eyes and groaned aloud. I don't know why they're wasting their time. They're just going to send me back the second I 'give them a bad vibe.' I'm just waiting on my eighteenth birthday so I can be done with this foster care bullshit.

I've got a dream. It's a pretty shitty one but its mine. Its the only thing people can't take from me. I know it's cliché but my dream is to be a singer. I'm no Taylor Swift and country isn't my thing but I will blow her blond ass away. I'm more of a free style singer, I rap a little too. You may as well believe it because my story wont change.

"Lovey?" My social worker, Rachel Wilson, said opening the door. She's a nice, British woman, pretty too. too bad she can't handle finding me a good and stable home. Its like this is her last chance before she just has to give up. I looked up and met her blue eyes. Her blond hair is heavily curled today. She only curls her hair when she needs luck. She smiled down at me. "They're ready for you." She stated.

"Obviously nobody is ready for Lovey Wright." I rolled my eyes. "If they were, I'd be somewhere living a happy life with a prosthetic family." I said sarcastically. This time she rolled her eyes at me. 

"If you go in with that attitude I'd send your ass back too." I started to roll my eyes at her again but then that would start the war. We did a poll on who rolls their eyes more. The results were inconclusive. I'm not joking either.

"No," I said pretending to think. "I believe I developed this attitude after house number six." She sighed and walked into the small room making it feel even smaller. She flopped down in the seat next to me. 

"You know my job is on the line right?" She asked not looking at me. I nodded my head.

"I figured that much." I said shrugging. "These people are mine and your last hope." She nodded her head and sighed again.

"They seem much different from the other families you've been with." She said finally meeting my eye. She looked at me with positivity and hope. She is trying to stay positive for her- and well for me. She's the only thing positive in my life other than my singing. I mean I'm no good in school, I can't draw, so why not sing and dance?