FOSTER

Part 1

Truthfully, I had never liked winter. The freezing cold air was never amusing. The sky turned awfully gloomy on a snowy day and even when there was sun, it would still look dull to me. Sure, the snow looked dazzling white in the afternoon but it was not convincing enough to change my view on winter. And my mind had been made. I would never like winter.

My husband, Tom, and I had been foster parents for almost two years now. We had had our fair share of children that were full of surprises. So when Mrs. Jenkins, the head of the foster care, called us to assign a child with problematic background to our home, we kindly accepted the offer.

She told us briefly through the phone about the child. Cady Bunton, a 7-year-old girl. Her dad was jailed for the possession of drugs and illegal guns in their home, while the mother was reported missing. Some people assumed that the mother had run away from home – said she always got into explosive arguments with the dad in the past. Cady was the couple's only child and had always been living in that messy environment. Mrs. Jenkins told us to be ready for any psychological and behavioral difficulties. We were sure we were ready.

The moment Cady was home, everything was perfect as always. Peaceful drive to home, peaceful child, and peaceful parents. Our Schnauzer, Bindi, seemed to be happier than ever as well. He sniffed Cady's shoe and wagged his tail when Cady started to walk upstairs with us and he followed. We showed Cady around her room. It was painted lime green with a gradation to white and light yellow around the study desk and toy box area. We kept the room's color gender-neutral in a way to make them feel comfortable enough to stay in it. In the bookshelf next to her table were some children books and also exercise books for drawing, coloring, and writing.

"This is your room, sweetie," Tom placed Cady's small luggage at the foot of her bed. He squatted down, "Do you like it?"

Cady nodded. Nothing more.

In fact, she had not been speaking so much ever since we saw her by the foster care's door. She just stood there with her stuff ready next to her. She did not exactly look like a 7-year-old, to be honest. Her small figure made her look like she was about to turn six. Her burgundy hair was tied into pigtails, showing her slim oval face clearly. She watched us as we walked towards her. When we smiled, she didn't budge. She just kept staring. It wasn't the creepy-kind of look, but it was deep, cautious, and for all I could see for a split second somewhere, there was no innocence in her eyes.

Tom and I walked out of her room. I didn't have to tell him that I wanted a moment to talk downstairs. He already knew. We sat down at the counter and Tom pressed his lips together.

"We need to assist her carefully, Jen."

"I know," I nodded. I brought his hand into mine and gave it a reassuring caress, "she's not going to be easy, but we've had children like her here."

"But did you see the way she kept looking at us?"

"She had a rough start. Maybe she was just trying to process who we are and what we are going to do to her."

Tom let out a heavy sigh. I knew he was slightly disturbed by the way Cady stared. Hell. I was, too.

***

Our first dinner together went well and... quiet. Cady was surprisingly obedient despite her lack of audible responses. The moment we asked her to do something, she shifted from where she was almost instantly and did it. Only, when she was asked to bring us something, she would somewhat be timid and hand it carefully to us, without even looking at us. I knew it had something to do with her parents but I felt that it was not the proper time to ask her about that yet. I just wanted to make her feel at ease with Tom and me.

"Cady, do you want to watch TV with me?" Tom called her from his seat. Cady stopped from collecting the dirty plates to look at Tom's direction and she turned her head to me.

"Go ahead, sweetie. Thank you for helping me." I flashed a smile at her but I could see she did not take it well. Her head flopped down almost instantly and she shuffled to the living room. I tried not to think too much of it. I moved the dirty plates into the sink and turned back to the table to collect the silverware. Little did I know, one of the forks was missing.