Sacrifice for a Dream

Chapter 1

I hate loud noises. I don't just hate them, I dread them. They drive me up the wall, I mean a lot of things drive me up the wall, but loud noises are the worst. CPS always gives my new foster parents a list and not screaming is at the top. My caseworker Theresa has copies for perspective foster parents who say they can take in a "special needs" kid. I don't think it's that hard a list to follow, but people always tell me that I'm weird.

The list isn't that weird. I think it's pretty simple actually. 1. Don't scream. 2. No perfumes, colognes or heavy scents. 3. Food sensitivity (to be discussed.) 4. Don't touch Wren or her items unless you have her permission. 5. Use of precise language is preferred. (figurative language and sarcasm are not something Wren understands.) I did help make the list, but it was edited by Theresa.

So why my foster father Gerald was always screaming at my foster mother Anne, made no sense to me. He had signed the rules agreement along with Anne.

Where Gerald was horrible, Anne was amazing. She was the best foster mother I had ever had and having had 6 foster families and lived in 2 group homes I felt I could give Anne the title of best foster mother. I had been with Gerald and Anne for 7 years.

Gerald on the other hand, had to be the worst. Gerald followed none of the rules; he screamed, he wore axe body spray to cover up his body odor and alcohol and he tried to make me eat foods I hated. One time he gave me a can of cold refried beans because he didn't want to pay to get fancy food, his words not mine. He would constantly go through my stuff looking for things. He also liked to call me names and would take every opportunity to tell me how if he hadn't taken me in, I'd be living on the streets.

For the past few months, he had been coming into my room at night and sitting on the twin bed opposite of mine and watching me sleep. I'd usually wake up when the door creaked, or he would make strange grunting noises. One time I asked him what he was doing, he told me he had heard something and was just checking to make sure I wasn't stealing from him and Anne. I didn't really understand why he had to be in my room at night while I was sleeping. I had never stolen from them before and how would I if I was asleep?

The older I got the more he came into my room. One time I woke and saw him sitting on the bed like he usually did but he had something in his hand in his lap that I couldn't made out. He was breathing hard and I didn't know what it was, but it scared me.

"I am not sending her to that school," Anne spoke calmly. "You promised me I could adopt."

"A baby, Anne, a baby!" Gerald screamed at her, causing me to flinch. "Not some messed up, broken, mentally retarded teen!"

I cringed inside. This was not the first time I had heard these words. I had heard them from every foster home I had ever been in. Even the workers at the group home called me retarded. I wasn't. I was smarter than most of them but because of the way I spoke and the fact that I spent most of my time reading they drew their own conclusions.

"Babies are expensive to adopt and CPS doesn't even get a lot of babies. Wren isn't any of those things, she's very smart." Anne pleaded but I knew that Gerald didn't care.

"I don't want an idiot for a daughter, Anne. Either you enroll her in that school, or we return her. If you enroll her, I will think about adoption. At least then, I won't have to see her every day." Gerald's words hurt. I didn't want to leave Anne.

Anne was everything I had ever wanted in a mom. She was 5'10, taller than me by 6 inches. She had long blonde hair that she usually wore in a ponytail. She had an olive complexion and had pale blue eyes. She was the prettiest woman I had ever seen. In contrast, I was small, standing at just 5'4. I had dark mahogany colored hair that shone red when I was in the sun. I had pale skin that Anne called alabaster, that always burned and never tanned. And my green eyes were the color of leaves.