Ousted
1308 Words
"This girl is a troublemaker. I don't want her in my house anymore. Look at this hair, who dyes their hair this white?"
"It's naturally like that, Karen," I sighed, rolling my eyes without taking them off my phone.
Alissa, my caseworker, held her tongue before motioning me to get my things. I hadn't actually done anything to Karen or her mom. I wasn't here long enough to piss her off like this. I think her anger might be coming from the fact that her date last night had lost interest when her mom introduced me to them. I haven't even unpacked. Alissa isn't going to let me hear the end of this. This is a record for the shortest stay in a new home and I had been in the lead of said track records.
"Where am I being relocated to?" I asked. She let out a heavy sigh and shook her head.
"Lily, you're not being relocated to another foster home. Bosse asked me to take you to Cyrilla. You're a year away from becoming an adult. That's where you're going to stay the remainder of your time with us," I nodded. "Hey, I told you not to do anything to get you kicked out,"
"I didn't do anything. She was just being a b***h,"
"Lilianna. You are a smart resourceful girl. You had an opportunity to start college already. We could have arranged for you to stay in the dorms. I don't know why you think you don't deserve better than what you're settling for,"
"I know I deserve better. More school just isn't the place for me. What am I going to study?"
"You can major in computer stuff. You live for that,"
"What is a classroom going to teach me that I don't already know?"
"I don't know, Liliann and we're never going to find out because you don't want to go," she shouted annoyed. "People would kill to have your talents and mind. Yet, here you are wasting it because you don't have a mommy and daddy. That's not all it's cut out to be you know?"
"Sure," I snarked, looking out the window.
"It could be a lot worse," she continued, parking in front of Cyrilla's home for wayward girls.
"Yeah, I could be you," I spat, pulling my suitcase from the back seat.
"Me? How is being me worse?" she asked angrily.
"You pretend to care about kids no one else gives a s**t about. You complain about how you don't get paid enough. How you should have majored in something else. You hate your life and you're trying to push something I don't want, on me. Please, stop acting like you're my friend. It doesn't hurt when people pretend like I'm not a real person," her eyes stayed on me a little longer than they should have.
"Have a nice life Lilianna Heart. Try not to f**k it up more than you already have," she shot back bitterly, before getting back in her car and driving off.
"You're supposed to hand in my paperwork," I shouted after the car. She didn't even glance back. I can see through the dark tinting of her rare windshield.
A girl is standing across the street in skin-tight faux leather legging, a white crop top that says UNICORN in big pink letters, a leather jacket, and thigh-high leather Victorian style boots. She looked me over before shaking her head like if she knew exactly who I am.
"What the f**k are you staring at?" I asked her. She smirked shaking her head.
"You Pendragons all think the world owes you something. It's in your blood," she chuckled before pulling a dark blue helmet over her head and mounting a really nice black streetfighter. Her thick British accent is familiar, recognizable but definitely not from around here.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I called after her.
"Don't trust the redhead," she laughed before speeding off.
"Freak," I scoffed, shaking my head before turning back to the building behind me.
I took a deep breath before picking my things up and walking through the iron gates. Cyrilla's Home for Wayward Girls is the place where orphan dreams die. Any chance of being adopted or finding a good home becomes an old distant memory. These women suck the hope out of the girls who enter this place. So they say. All caseworkers threaten their girls with this place. Alissa has warned me a few times.
It's a good thing I had lost hope a long time ago. What can they really do to me that hasn't already been done? I've been beaten, abused, humiliated, and my favorite-cast out. Not just by the countless foster homes, my parents pushed me out of their lives. They left me in a hospital. They didn't even wait to see if I were a boy or a girl. I was born to a Jane Doe who came in with her John Doe husband. A pretty redhead and a blond male is what the official report says. I never found anything else.
The nurse who had been working that night was the one who named me Lilianna Heart. She had wanted to take me in but couldn't afford it. That might be the story of my life. Born but tossed out because there isn't enough funding.
Well, I've made due until now and I will keep surviving for the rest of my life. I don't need anyone to baby me or keep me company. They'd just drag me down. All I need is to get the hell away from all of these adults trying to tell me what I need to be doing. They all act like going to school is going to somehow fix everything. Like getting into thousands of dollars of debt to get a degree that is going to determine my income is the only solution to life. There has to be more to this than that. I just want an opportunity to get away from all of this and earn it for myself without restrictions. Being a minor, sucks.
"Yes, I was told you were coming in. Come on. I'll show you to your room," that's a hell of greeting. At least it isn't that pitiful look of a family who thinks they're doing me a favor by letting me stay with them. They get paid.
The woman is past her fifties and past her small body's weight limitation. Her gray and brown hair is pulled back in a high bun. Her orthopedic shoes have velcro straps. Her outfit looks like she got dressed in the dark at a retirement home. The sound of her shoes are squeaking along the linoleum as she walked me down the long hallway. She opened a door for me and motioned me to go in.
"This is your room. We have an inspection every Wednesday and Sunday. There's a list of dos and don'ts on the desk along with a schedule. You are required to get to all scheduled sessions on time. Get settled it's gonna be a long year, pretty. Clean up and settle in. Lights off at ten,"
"Thanks," I smiled at her weakly when she handed me the key to the room.
"Mmhm," she nodded before walking out.
The room is actually much nicer than most rooms I've had. The tan carpet looks new. The twin size bed is clean and white linens are neatly folded at the end of it. There's a nice vanity with a matching writing desk and two-bedside drawers. Both bedside drawers have lamps that dimly light up the room. The curtains cover up the barred window and there's good closet space.
"It's not that bad," I whispered to myself as I began to make the bed. Not that bad at all.
- Writer
