I looked back at the grey building that I had just spent eight years of my life in I spent the other two in jail but after getting harassed one to many times they decided it wasn’t for me and stuck me in this hellhole. My social worker keeps giving me glances as if I’m about to kill her.
“Where am I going exactly,” I say not recognizing any of these places.
My social worker clears her throat uncomfortably and takes her time stuttering out an answer “I-i-Illinois,”
“What’s in Illinois,” I ask placing my leg on the dashboard of her car.
“Your father,” I can barely hear her because of her mumbling but I make it out. Outraged I rip my door open at the next red light and hop out, my social worker gets out and runs after me.
“Please if you don’t get back in the car I have to call your parole officer, “My social worker cries.
I turn around my long brown hair whipping in my face from the wind “why would you have to do that.”
“Because of all the disciplinary rules you broke in juvie part of your probation agreement is that you stay with your dad until you turn eighteen.”
I was pissed off the only bad things I did in juvie was maybe participate in a little bit of fight night, okay so I was the reigning champ but who’s keeping track.
“Who the hell arranged for that to happen,” I paced around the sidewalk like a wild animal.
“Well officer Jared said that it would be a nice surprise,” my social worker explained leading me back to her car.
Officer Jared was an asshole of a cop who tried to get a little frisky with me when he visited my cell needless to say I beat the shit out of him.
I opened the car door and froze “What do you mean surprise, as in he has no idea I am coming.”
My social worker gave me a short nod and motioned for me to get inside. I smirked leaning back in my seat; oh this is going to be so fun.
I woke up from my nap to someone shaking me “Jordan wake up, were here.”
I looked up hazy from sleep and almost choked on my spit, The house was huge it looked like a mansion it was red brick my favorite but, had green vines wrapping around the left side and an oak tree in the front yard. I walked up the steps and knocked I waited before going to knock again but a voice stopped me.
“Hey, if you’re looking for the Evans you’ve missed them.” Some said. ; My mom gave me her last name
YOU ARE READING
Not so Innocent
Teen FictionJordan Roberts was only six years old when she was sent to a juvenile detention center. She was sixteen years old when she got let out. Dealing with some not so friendly blasts from her pasts and a parent who not only doesn't understand her but repl...
