Chapter Two: Interesting Encounters

As soon as Trina left, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was never particularly good with foster parents, especially the ones that “cared” about me, and wanted to provide me with a good home. I looked around the room.

Upon second glance, it seemed even bigger than before. When I looked closer, I realized that the bookshelf already had a few books (stupid romance paperbacks), and the dresser was stuffed with clothing, mainly jeans and old vintage T-shirts. Amazingly, most of them seemed as though they would fit me. At least now I wouldn’t have to waste my nonexistent money on new clothing.

Slowly I started unpacking. I pulled out my books first. Most of them were fantasy or adventure, but there were quite a few that were my notebooks. They contained songs, stories, and journal entries of the many foster homes. I slowly opened one. The title read March 17, 2004. Hmm…back when I was thirteen. I started to read.

Mrs. Blaine came again today. This time she said she found me another foster home to stay at. Well, anything could be better than where I am now. That asshole I’m supposed to call my foster father was out drinking again last night, who knows where. So once again I’m stuck sitting on Mrs. Littleton’s couch crying. The old woman went to sleep along time ago, but sadly I don’t have the same fortune. It seems when I’m awake my life is a nightmare…when I sleep it just comes back to haunt me all over again…

Ah, yes, one of my more emo entries. I remember, that was my second foster home. I stayed there for a total of eleven months. My first home was the best, of course. I lived in it for two years, with an old woman, Mrs. Baker, who was very sweet and kind, and who baked me cookies when I came home from school. Sadly, she suffered a heart attack when I was only eleven, so I was once again shipped to the orphanage where I had lived for the whole one year after Gabrielle abandoned me there. Then Mrs. Blaine came when I was about twelve and told me she found me a new place, but those whole eleven months I spent with Charles were possibly the worst (I say possibly because I’m also considering my life before orphanages to be in the running). So Mrs. Blaine came after I called her and she shipped me off immediately to Atlanta, where I lived with a huge, multicultural family. But by this time I was thirteen and rebellious so I began getting into fights at school, skipping classes, and piercing inappropriate parts of my body (bellybutton, upper ear, and even my nose, but the latter has already closed up).

Eventually, that family, the Richards, decided they didn’t want to deal with me anymore. So I was sent back to California to live with the Porter’s. But they had a bitchy blond daughter who I absolutely detested, and after purposely leaving black hair dye in the shampoo bottle as revenge for the way she treated me, I was left at the orphanage once again. That’s where I’ve been for the past year, living among other unwanted kids. The orphanage isn’t so bad, if you look at it. There are lots of kids my age there, and I even managed to make one friend, Lacey Milton. Lacey is as close to a punk as there is. She has blond hair with black and white streaks in it, blue eyes (although she wears dark brown contacts) and always dresses like she just walked off the set of a My Chemical Romance music video shoot. She has multiple piercings and always wears green, dark blue, black, or white (she stays away from happy colors like yellow and orange, and passionate colors like red and pink). To add onto her coolness, she listens to the best music ever (punk and rock) and she has always been there for me. Of course, we are different. For one, my hair is completely black (although it is naturally mousy brown, I dyed it when I was thirteen), my eyes are cool grey, and I wear jeans and old T-shirts (amazing that the Allen’s got my style right). But we were separated a month ago when Lacey was sent off to live with a family in Texas. So that was one of the reasons why I agreed to this; I didn’t have anywhere else to go, nor did I have anyone to lean on anymore.

I was snapped out of my reverie when I realized it was already 12:13. I had serious unpacking to do. I needed a safe place for my notebooks, and decided on using an old brown chest in the corner of the closet. Safely placing them there, and locking the chest, I continued to unpack. I unloaded all my clothes and threw them into the closet. I took out my picture albums and carefully put them into the same chest that consisted of my notebooks. Then I took out my small mirror. I decided to hang it on the left wall. I’m not an egomaniac or anything, but I use the mirror for a dose of reality. I don’t like lying, especially not to myself, and somehow that mirror helps me truly see through my exterior and to the real me. It seems to be the only thing that can look at the real me, when I look at it I no longer see the tough girl, instead I see a girl that is crying, mascara running down her face, her clothing torn, scars on her body. Deep, I know.

I pretty much had only one thing left. My poster. It was an awesome poster, more like a montage, of several punk rock bands and artists, as well as some angsty paintings and pictures. Lacey gave it to me when we became friends, just as I gave her my old Simple Plan CD, the one she had lost with one of her previous foster families. I didn’t have any of those things you use to hook up posters, so I decided to use some tape. Obviously, there was none in my room. I didn’t feel like calling Trina, so I decided I could find it on my own.

I ventured into the next room and almost had a shock; it was blue with a yellow bed and beautiful curtains. There were stuffed animals all around it, and it practically reeked of “freak”. I decide it must be the little girl’s room. No girl that…girly would ever keep tape in her room. So I went one more room down.

This one was also blue, but it was deeper, darker blue. The bed was black, and there was a deep brown colored desk. On the desk there were several magazines, and I shuddered when I realized they were Playboy and Sports Illustrated. I’d had a bad run in with the former when I was ten, and thinking it was an actual magazine with games and activities, I opened it. The memories of those pictures still scar me to this day. I collected myself and decided I’d need to go through the desk if I wanted to find a roll of tape. Scraping through it, I saw several pens and pencils, erasers, books, and even a few of the aforementioned magazines. I dug even deeper. Geez, what did these people keep in here?

“What are you doing?” I heard the door slam as I turned around. The voice was coming from a boy who looked around my age, maybe a bit older.

“Nothing,” I replied. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Then why are you in my room?” I felt heat rising up my neck, into my face.

“I’m looking for tape,” I replied honestly, trying to not sound guilty.

“Why were you going through my stuff?” he said, as if there was something specific in there I wasn’t supposed to see.

“Because I couldn’t find any tape anywhere else,” I said obviously.

“Get out of my room,” he said, looking at me suspiciously. On my way out, I spotted a roll of regular clear tape (not the icky opaque-ish kind) and grabbed it so he wouldn’t see me.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I entered the hallway, only to be ambushed again.

“I see you’ve met my brother,” a boy leaning across the doorway of “my” room said. He must have noticed my fearful yet relieved expression. I nodded; this one seemed nicer.

“Don’t worry, he’s only that vicious in the beginning,” the boy reassured me. I smiled at him, trying to be polite.

“So you’re the new girl,” he said casually, looking me up and down. I felt very self-conscious, and my breath was caught in my throat. His hair was somewhat curly and blond, and his eyes were sky blue, just like everyone else’s in his family. He was…beautiful. Completely and utterly beautiful, like something you only see in the movies.

Dammit! I’ve never had that feeling before, the dumb one that caused all the stupid butterflies and the weak knees and the blood rushing to my face. But suddenly, I was experiencing it. I wanted to slap myself on the spot, but it would look very weird.

“What’s your name?” he asked with interest.

“Ginny,” I replied slowly, trying to even out my voice. He noticed the tape in my hand and smirked as he said, “I’m Sam, and that was Edward.”

I nodded again, being too utterly tongue tied to trust myself with speaking.

“I have to unpack now,” I said, somewhat transfixed. Sam smiled at me, and I felt the stupid weird feeling again.

I practically ran into my room, feeling total denial. I wasn’t falling for Sam Allen. It was just the change in atmosphere that was giving me this odd feeling. Yeah, that was it. It was only because I was in LA. Probably all the smog.

At five thirty, when I had finished all the necessary cleaning and unpacking, Trina called us down to dinner. I hesitantly climbed down the large staircase, into what she’d pointed out as the dining room earlier.

Trina was already standing there, placing a bowl of salad on the table. I smiled at her softly, and she repeated my actions.

“Edward and Sam will set the table,” she said. “Could you please call Brie downstairs to eat?” I nodded and headed up the stairs once more, running into Edward on the way. I heard him curse underneath his breath.

Making my way over to the girl’s door, I knocked.

“Brie?” I asked oddly. “Your mom wants you to come downstairs to eat.”

The door swung open to reveal a girl in jeans and a grey T-shirt, barefoot, her long blond hair in two messy pigtails, dirt stains on her hands. She smiled at me lightly.

“You’re Ginny, right?” she asked, with a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Yeah,” I said hesitantly. She looked me up and down in a similar fashion as her brother.

“You’re pretty,” she finally concluded. I smiled.

“Thanks,” I said. “Your mom wants you to come downstairs to eat dinner.”

“Do I have to?” she whined. “I was just working on my clay project. Can’t I eat later?” She motioned to her dirty hands, and I realized the dirt was actually dark brown clay.

“I’m pretty sure you have to eat right now,” I replied. I wasn’t good with handling kids, because I’d never grown up with any brothers or sisters, and all the kids in the orphanage were the type who’d learned to care for themselves and do everything along.

“Okay,” the girl gave up. “Hey, want to see my model before we go downstairs?” I shrugged, deciding I could at least make her happy. She led me over to a small table I hadn’t noticed when I was in her room earlier.

“Don’t comment on the walls, bed sheets, or curtains, please,” she said. “My mom picked them out and I hate them.” I smiled. I was liking this girl more and more every second.

The clay model was… good. That was the only way to describe it. It was a family of five, all with clear faces, clothing and features. All except one. The father figure had no face – in fact, he looked like a blob of clay.

“It’s for a school project. I’m not done doing my daddy yet,” she confessed.

“It’s good,” I admitted honestly. And I wasn’t lying – this was some of the best stuff I’d seen practically forever. The detail she put into it, you could never tell it was done by a seven year old.

“Don’t tell anyone, but my brother Sam helped me a bit,” she whispered. I smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” I promised.

“Hey,” she said suddenly, looking at me, “if you want, I can add you in. After all, you’re part of our family now. And then we could be real sisters.”

I smiled instead of saying anything.

“I have to wash my hands now,” she said. “Wait for me here, okay?”

“Sure,” I replied, as she headed into the hallway. She came out in a minute or so, and we headed down the staircase together.

Entering the dining room, I noticed everyone else was already seated. There was no fatherly figure in sight.

“My husband, Jacob, is on a business trip,” Trina said, answering the question forming in my head. I nodded slowly. “He’ll be back in a week or so, he’s currently in Miami.” I noticed how Sam’s face fell as she said this.

“Anyways,” Trina cleared her throat. “Let’s start eating.” Edward and Sam both immediately went for the food, obviously hungry. I almost rolled my eyes, because it seemed like such typical guy behavior.

I started eating, talking to Brie a bit in between mouthfuls. The girl was smart and funny, especially so for a seven year old. I could actually see things brightening up a bit as we chatted about cars, card games, and sports. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

After dinner was done, and we had cleared up, the five of us were sitting in the living room, each with a bowl of ice cream in hand. I was extremely glad – it was quite hot, even with the AC on – and was eating mines ravenously. Sam was giving me an amused look.

“Maybe the boys could give you a tour of the house,” Trina said lightly, eating her ice cream carefully and delicately.

Edward snorted. “I’m busy,” he said. “Got parties to go to.” I noticed Trina give him a disapproving look, to which he stuck his tongue out and Brie giggled. The Trina lightly threw a pillow at him, causing Sam to laugh outright. Edward lunged for Sam, and they began play-wrestling, Brie egging them on.

I laughed at the typical family scene, my face falling when I realized something.

This was what I never had. What I never could have. I mean, technically I could. But I could never really belong in a scene like this. I had to brothers, sisters, or parents. I was an orphan, and having a foster family made that no different.

I was a loner.

How could I have ever thought that this could be okay? That this life would suit me? It never would. These people had everything I never could, and it wasn’t fair for me to intrude upon their lives, like I’d done to so many others before.

I couldn’t get attached, I reminded myself, because this wasn’t permanent. It never was. As soon as I started softening up and getting close to my foster family, it was time for me to leave. I had stopped getting attached a while ago, but every so often I let my emotions go. And every time I got hurt.

I sighed as I realized this somewhat perfect family wasn’t for me, and never would be.

“Are you okay?” Trina asked suddenly, noticing my sad look. I faked a smile.

“Fine, just a bit tired,” I admitted. “Probably all the traveling and unpacking and craziness.”

“Do you want to go to bed? I was hoping you’d get a tour of the house,” she said. I smiled lightly. She looked so hopeful, how could I possibly crush her spirits?

“Sure, I’ll take a tour,” I agreed. “Then I’ll go hit the hay.”

Trina smiled. “Since Edward is busy,” she said sarcastically, “Sam can give you the tour. I’ve still got some laundry to finish up.”

“Sure,” I replied. Edward gave Sam this look, I couldn’t quite catch what it was supposed to mean.

“Well, I got to go,” Edward said, standing up. “I’ll be back by one.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Trina said. “You’ll be back by midnight or you’re in big trouble.” She followed him into the hall, and Sam rolled his eyes as Edward protested. I could distinctly hear them bickering as Sam sighed.

“I’m going to go work on the clay model,” Brie said, standing up as she placed her ice cream bowl on the coffee table. “You can come upstairs to look at it if you want.”

I nodded as she ran up the stairs, excited.

Sam stood up and moved beside me. “Okay, let’s do this quickly,” he said in a rushed tone. “You already know the cellar and laundry room are in the basement. This is the living room, and the room we were just in was the dining room. All the bedrooms are upstairs.

He walked over to a set of glass doors. Opening them up, he stepped outside.

“This is the pool,” he said, motioning to the body of blue-looking water, “You can swim in it whenever you want, but Mom gets pissed if we swim alone or unsupervised. There should be at least two people swimming together in case anything happens.”

I looked around. Their backyard was beautiful. A wooden deck and patio, the pool shining in the moonlight, the grass bright green and the stone a beautiful mix of maroon and grey. It was a bit chilly, however.

“Okay, moving on,” Sam said. We stepped back inside and he closed and locked the double doors. Then he motioned towards the staircase.

We went up two flights, until we landed in a small room.

“The attic,” he said. “Also known as the recreation room.” I nodded, looking at all the toys and games around me.

Sam looked at the ping pong table.

“Want to play a game of table tennis?” he asked casually. I shrugged. He handed me my equipment and we started the game. It lasted about five minutes, and I beat him easily.

“Man,” he said, after the game. “I’ve never had my ass kicked like that – by a girl.” I smiled.

“Looks like you’ve met your match,” I replied smartly. Hold up, did I just flirt with him? Man, this cannot be happening.

“Umm, I’m gonna go sleep now,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’m kinda tired.”

“Okay,” he replied. “There’s nothing else to show you, really. You probably should sleep, we’ve got school tomorrow and you’re coming with us.”

I nodded. He started down the stairs, and I followed him. I nearly fell onto him when he stopped on the bottom step of the first flight.

“By the way,” he added as a side note, “try to dress casual. Kids there tend to judge you on how you look.” I nodded once again.

As he continued down the second flight, I went straight to the hallway that led to “my” room. Opening the door, I collapsed on the bed, letting sleep overtake me quickly.

AN: Okay, so here's the next chapter! Finally managed to write it. The story's still not very far in, but hopefully the next few chapters will be better... If you can, review and tell me if you like it, please.