Needle and Thread

Chapter 1

        Yesterday I thought no one would want to spend time with me, like everybody else in this place. I don’t have friends that are my age – at least not anymore. I now only have one not-young-anymore friend, Jace, an eleven-year-old.

        Jace was left here when he was a baby with his older brother, Noah.

        “Where could you be?” I whispered to myself. Noah was my best friend. He was the first friend I made since I was left here, which was when I was a toddler. “You promised you’d write.” I sighed, looking at the maroon wrist watch that he gave me. It had been six years since he left.

        I was 6 when they were taken here; he was a year older than me. His parents died in a car accident, there was no one to take care of them, and he was left with his new born baby brother.

        February 14, 2009. A family wanted to adopt Noah. He didn’t think he would be chosen, so he just went on the interview with his normal behavior. He was devastated because he had to leave his baby brother. It was his 12th birthday, and we both hated that day. Noah did everything to change the family’s mind: when they were picking him up, he was being stubborn, and he even cursed at them.

        My best friend of five years left us.

       I promised that I would take good care of his brother, that I was not going to leave the orphanage, and that I would save enough money so that I can take Jace with me when I turn 18. But today, I don’t know if I can still keep that promise.

         “Aria?” I heard his soft, trembling voice call me. He sounded just like his brother. I looked to my right from my position on my bed, and smiled at him.

        Motioning for him to come in, I sat up. “Hey, Jace.” I looked at him – from his messy black hair, his caramel eyes, the small freckles below it, his pink full lips, to his shaking hands, and his shuffling feet.

        “What happened?” I asked, frowning. I placed my hands on his shoulders, “Did someone call you names?”

        He shook his head. Wiping his watery eyes, he spoke. “You’re getting adopted.”

        My eyes widened, “What?” I asked quietly. I shook my head, straightened up, and let out a shaky breath. They can’t do this. I’m almost 17, I can move out after a year. The adoption won’t work. There’s no way I’m going to leave.

        “They can’t do this,” I furrowed my eyebrows, inhaling deep breaths. I watched a tear slowly crawl down Jace’s small face. “I’m not leaving you,” I said sternly while cupping his face. I wiped the tear with my thumb.

        I breathed in, yesterday I had my interview. I didn’t think they would like me, I’m 17 and will be old enough to move out – there’s no use in adopting me.

        Patting his head, I got up. “Come on, I’ll talk to Clary.”

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        Clary is a fifty-year-old widow. She owns the orphanage, and she’s like the grandma none of us had. The orphanage is pretty big so there are keepers that work here, some are volunteers.

        Clary told me that a friend of hers brought me here. She said that I was left in a box on that friend’s door, and that friend tried to keep me but after two years of trying, she left me with Clary. I was also told that her friend was a single mother of four sons.

        I held Jace’s hand tightly as we walked down the hall, towards Clary’s office. When we reached there, I told Jace to wait for me while I go inside.