Foster Kid

2.

Great. I get to meet the foster at 11 o' clock at night. Why would they do that? The system works in mysterious ways.

I rub my eyes and nearly throw myself out of bed. My parents would drag me out, and that is completely unpleasant. I know from experience. 

I pull my wavy hair into a high ponytail, and wrap my awesome robot tie blanket I made around me. Here we go. Bracing my self. I take a step, and sooner than thought , I'm to the stairs. 

I take my first step, and oddly not to my surprise, miss the step and tumble down the stairs unfortunately ungracefully. 

"Honey?" I hear my mom call out in a sweet voice. I bursh my black hair out of my face. "I'm okay!" I say, sticking my hands up in a surrender sort of way. Did I mention it's a daily task to walk down the stairs?

As I walk, I hear friendly voices. My parents. They were probably the most welcoming parents in the entire world, and for some reason, that made me uncomfortable.

My parents were talking to the social worker about the foster kid, but the kid was nowhere to be seen. My dad noticed me, and gestured me to come and meet the lady. 

I've gotten good at starting conversations and keeping them going, even though it's one of my least favorite things to do. So if you haven't already guessed, I'm a full out introvert.

I take a deep breath and plaster a smile on my face while walking up to my parents  and the lady. My mom notices me and puts a hand on my back. "This is my daughter, Aberdeen. Aberdeen, this is Alex's social worker." The lady puts her clipboard in her left hands and holds her hand out.

I take it, and she squeezes it roughly. When she lets go, I avoid the temptation of weeping. (That was a joke.)

"Oh, so is she the same age as Alex?" The social worker asks. My mom nods,"Yes, and I think she's very excited to get someone finally her age." Yeah right. "That's nice. Now, we cannot have any funny business going on between the two. It's against the rules," the social worker says.

Okay, first of all, ew. Second of all, why would I date an attention seeking foster kid?

The social worker leans into my mom, trying to be secretive. "Does she have any... history in that sort of thing?" Oh yeah, WHAT a secret. "No! My daughter would never do such a thing," my mom says, placing a hand over her heart to add the intensity to her offense. 

My dad grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me in closer, finally speaking up. "My daughter is not some sort of . . . . slut, that you're accusing her for being." Since when did dating a boy mean being a slut?

"I'm glad to see you guys are protective over your children. I'm hoping it will be the same for the foster child that you are recieving." My mom nods and swallows, as if shocked from the scene.

And that's what I hate about the social workers. They always say 'recieving' the foster child, as if the child is a toy on Christmas, or a letter from the bank. Well, I guess for them they are just money in the bank.

"Alex, you wana come in?" The social worker asks in the nicest voice she can probably get. Jeez, can we talk about mood swings cause she just hit me in the face. (That was also a joke.)

I hear footsteps approaching.

Oh God, what if he's some sort of pervert? What if he's a bully?

I swallow hard as I brace myslef. I've never been this nervous for a foster kid.

He walks into the doorway.

Holy shit.