Hopeful Tears

        "I am done with her, she has crossed the line!"  Mrs. Fern screams at the social worker.  She had always been trying to get me out of her house so I am not surprised she was doing this.  Mrs. Fern's husband Mr. Fern (I never liked calling them by their real names because Bart and Bertha are just weird to say) stood by her side glowering at me as if setting the kitchen and fire was my fault.  All I was trying to do was make a new type of muffin I found on the back of a Pillsbury Muffin box.  They should really learn that oily rags do not make good pot holders.

            "Please Ma'am, would you please explain to me what Alison has done so I can file the report?"  My social worker asked Mrs. Fern, who, by the way, looked like a plum with her anger.  It was actually pretty funny seeming how it matched her purple/maroon dress.  I had to try my best to stifle a giggle. 

"She burned my house down!  That is all I need to explain.  She is a Demon Child, I can't take it anymore."  Mr. Fern filled in for his wife.  Mrs. Fern was nodding along with her husband.  I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.  The social worker wasn't even hiding her frustration.

After the Ferns left, Margret (my social worker) was staring at me with disapproving eyes.  "Alison, I really thought that you could last at least a year.  I am very disappointed in you.  That has been your fifth foster home in four years.  When are you going to stop this?"

"When I get my parents back," is all I said before going out into the waiting room.  After about half an hour Margret finally came out to tell me my next placement.  "So I am assuming it is going to be another couple that is going try to get rid of me the day they met me... I'm just guessing."

"Alison, I believe I have found one you can at least spend a year with.  She is a baker in Livinsville, Georgia.  I think you will really like her," Margret explained with a serious look plastered on her face.  "I really hope you will at least give her a chance for this is the last foster home you will be at till you are put in the girl's home.  That is all I can do for you."

"I make no promises.  I don't care what you can or can't do for me."  She stayed quiet for a little while, letting my rage dwindle.  I gave up on the frustration and put a blank face on.  "When do we leave?"

"The Ferns have already dropped your stuff off and-" I cut her off with a short 'of course'.  Then she gave me a glare before starting up again.  "And I was going to say we are leaving in an hour, after lunch, she is just two hours away."

After we left I was imagining many scenarios in my head of what the woman is like. Is she mean?  Would she like me?  Will she let me bake with her?  Finally, I just gave up and took a nap to pass the time.

"Alison, wake up, we're here."   Margret said while trying to shake me awake.  I looked up feeling groggy and confused.  Where were we?  That's when I remembered about the Ferns giving me up and my social worker telling me that we were going to a new home for me.  I took me a while to remember what she was again.  It was at the top of my head but I still couldn't put a finger on it.

Oh yeah! She was a baker!  A burst of excitement exploded inside me.  My eyes quickly flew open, scaring Margret, I might add.  I looked around noticing we were at a bakery with many variations of cupcakes in the windows.

I quickly got out of the car and sat there a little bit waiting for Margret to collect her bearings.  As she got out she looked tired, but she still had a face of hope.  "Alison, before we walk in remember her name is Erika and she is thirty years old.  She will be taking care of you for the time being.  You should also know that she is going to be taking care of you alone right now.  Her husband is in the army for the next few months."