One Big Cliche [A Tyrus Fanfic]

Chapter One: And You Are...?

C Y R U S

I took a deep breath as I slung my backpack over my shoulder. I debated eating breakfast at this new school or at home and decided to take my chances with the school food. Who knows what Jill would try to whip up in the kitchen. No offence to her, but she couldn't make a good meal to save her life. 

"Going somewhere?" I heard a familiar voice ask.

"Well, yeah, unlike you, I'm a teenager and have to go to school," I said.

Jill pouted at me. "Don't you want me to make you a quick breakfast?" she asked, feigning sadness.

I chuckled softly, shaking my head as I made my way to the door. "Guess I'll roll the dice with the school's mystery meat," I said, a playful glint in my eye.

Jill gasped in exaggerated disbelief, her eyes widening as she pressed a delicate hand to her heart as if she had just received a devastating blow. "You wound me, Cyrus," she declared, her voice dripping with theatrical flair and feigned sorrow. The corner of her mouth twitched, suggesting she was both amused and hurt by my words.

I rolled my eyes and opened the door. I could hear Jill getting up. "Wait, Cyrus, let me drive you to school," She suggested.

I would've argued, but there would have been no point. Jill always had her way with my foster brother and me. I sighed and waited for her by the door. She grabbed her keys, and we walked into the driveway.

We got in, and she pulled out, driving down the street. "So, what do you think about your new school?" She asked, breaking the silence.

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it'll be cool," I said. The truth is, I had no clue what this school would be like. Maybe it would be a great place where I'd enjoy going. Or maybe it'd be just as awful as Westerberg High.

I also had no idea what the people here were like. I only got here a few months ago since I was relocated. I moved around so much in the past six months that I never really paid attention to where I was.

When I first crossed paths with Jill, a sense of calm began to wash over me, replacing the worries that had weighed me down for so long. She embodied the warmth and nurturing spirit of a true mother, far surpassing all the foster moms I had known throughout my life. From the moment I stepped through her door, she enveloped me in her care, treating me with a tenderness that made me feel cherished as if I were her own flesh and blood. Her gentle demeanor and attentive nature created a safe haven, allowing me to slowly let go of my fears and embrace the comfort of being genuinely looked after.

"Welcome to your new home, Cyrus," my caseworker, Andrea, told me. I had heard her say that so many times that I never took it to heart. I looked up at the small house and sighed. This was the fifth house I had been relocated to in the past six months.

"Yeah, I guess," I mumbled. Andrea rubbed my shoulder sadly and knocked on the door. I was grateful for Andrea. She worked so hard to find me a good home, but it never worked out. It wasn't her fault, though. I was just unwanted wherever I went. 

The door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman with brown hair. Her green eyes sparkled as she looked down at me. She presented herself so welcomingly, which was different from what I used to. "Ms. Goodman, it's nice to see you. You remember Cyrus?" Andrea asked as the lady, Jill, nodded.

"Of course, I remember. Come on in," she invited us inside. The house was warm and smelled like vanilla. I took a look around and saw the vanilla-scented candles. Well, go figure. "So, I just need to do some last-minute housing checks, and you'll have to sign some paperwork, and then you'll be officially fostering Cyrus Baker here," Andrea explained.