Figuring Out Foster

Chapter 2

"Mags wake up!" My dad's voice from out in the hall made me stir but I didn't want to wake yet; So I flipped over in my bed and pulled the covers to conceal my face from the light hitting me solidly from lack of blinds.

"You'll be late for your first day of school." The door to my bedroom opened, "I have breakfast on the table, and it's going to get cold."

"What is it?" I groggily asked him.

"French toast," He stated in a cheery voice, and then walked out of my room, not forgetting to leave my door open, "Hurry up or it will be cold."

Once I heard his footsteps faintly on the stairs, I fumbled through my sleepiness and got out of the bed.

I was still tired after barely getting any sleep last night because of Foster. I grumbled about my dad bribing me with my favorite breakfast food of all time to get me up and throw on new clothes, making sure to change away from my completely open window and get ready for school. After blowing through my routine, I pull my hair up into a bun before making my way down to the kitchen.

Like the typical father, mine was reading a newspaper as he sipped coffee from a mug. I sat down on the table across from him, and noticed a steaming plate of French toast on the table. I devoured the soggy cinnamon-flavored bread but my dad broke my concentration, as he cleared his throat at me.

"I never got to talk to you last night. How was the drive?" He says eyeing me over the paper.

"Boring." I continued eating and didn't bother to look up.

"One word answers Maggie? You can do better than that." He folded up the newspaper, and placed it next to him and then pulled my half-finished plate away from me.

"Hey!" I reached for the stolen goods, but my dad pulled them farther across the table.

"Are you still mad about us moving here?" My dad looked at me with concern. Of course he would be worried about me, but didn't want him to know how much I hated the move. Plus, with knowing how important this move was for him.

So I didn't answer him, and continued to stare down at the tabletop.

"You know, it will be easier once you make some friends." I immediately thought of Foster, and then decided he's definitely not a friend, but the thought of Michael being my friend seemed so much worse.

"Yeah," I mumbled, my dad raised an eyebrow at me. "I know." I placated him quickly, and gave him more than a 'one word' answer.

"Good. Well, I have to get going. I'll talk to you again tonight, okay sweetie?" He got up from the table and grabbed his briefcase off the counter, before he placed a kiss on the top my head. We said our quick goodbyes as left for work, the front door shut softly behind him. I leaned across the table grabbing my plate back.

"See you later, dad." I sarcastically comment, knowing that he won't be home from work until really late again.

Just as I finished my breakfast, the doorbell rang.

Expecting it to be Foster, I took my time to put my plate in the sink and then I put my dad's coffee cup in the sink, too, managing to waste as much time just to piss him off, which I could tell worked because the ringing continued. It even increased in intervals, and once in a while with a quick insistent knock happened.

The obvious frustration on the other side of the door made me smirk at how much this seemed to bug him.

Serves him right for what he did last night. Right, last night when he broke in—broke in. Realization dawned on me that this wasn't Foster.