Page 139 of A Foster Fling
Being in the system is tough, and unless you’ve been there, then you have no idea the true depths of the fear that come from not knowing who or where you’ll end up next. My real ‘family’ doesn’t exist anymore. This family here, they are all I have now, and while I’m still unsure of them, they’ve accepted me, or at least, Troy has.
Raiden, for the most part, keeps to himself at home, although there have been a few times where we’ve hung out and watched a movie or he’s invited me into his room to listen to his music.
It feels like it’s been a long time since I was a normal child, living at home with my mom, and I suppose it is. I’ve been bounced around from home to home, family to family, for years. Dad passed away, and Mom went to prison, leaving me a ward of the state. I don’t have many memories of time spent with her, and those I do have all involve her screaming at me for ruining her life.
As I grew older, I tried to run away, rebelled against my foster parents and their way of life, especially the few who decided I was their shiny new toy to be played with, either by them or the other kids. It didn’t matter if the kids were biologically theirs, or other fosters like me, I was the victim of cruel games, violence, and assault.
Of course, it didn’t work; it only resulted in me being picked up and sent to yet another group home or foster family.
—
“Robyn! Raiden!”
I close my schoolbook with a sigh. Revision sucks, but Troy’s cooking doesn’t. Flicking off the lamp perched on my desk, I get to my feet.
“Robyn! Raiden!” he calls again, sounding closer to the bottom of the stairs
“Coming!” I respond, hurrying over to the bedroom door and tugging it open.
My bare feet and toes sink into the soft carpet covering the hallway floor, and I almost bump into Raiden as I burst out of my bedroom.
“You trying to kill me?” Raiden says with a laugh.
“If I was I’d be much more subtle about it,” I joke, following him downstairs.
Everyone who doesn’t know us thinks we’re such a perfect family: the sweet daughter and the rebellious son, and the single father. The rest of them treat me like an outsider. From what Troy and my social worker have told me, he’s been doing this for a long time now, but in a small town like this, I suppose they’ll never get used to it.
It’s only recently I’ve realized that they’re different from the others; there have been none of the snide remarks or creepy sideways glances. Troy watches me closely, and while unnerving at times, it doesn’t feel threatening.
Raiden doesn’t seem to notice anything strange, and while we’re not close, I get the feeling that with his vocal nature, he’d be quick to speak up if he thought something was off about his dad’s behavior.Troy hasn’t touched me inappropriately, or given any indication that he’s inclined toward me in any way, but I still can’t shake the odd feeling I get around him sometimes. I’ve caught myself watching him too, and I’m not sure what it is that keeps my eyes moving toward him.
But I’ll be turning eighteen soon… I’ll be old enough to make my own way in the world, and what may or may not be in mine or Troy’s heads won’t even matter, and I look forward to giving the one-finger-salute to this whole, messed-up system when I leave.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to calm my racing heart. When I walk into the dining room after Raiden, Troy looks up at me from his seat and smiles warmly at the two of us as we take our seats. I cast my gaze downward, eager to see what he’s prepared for dinner tonight.
I’m not afraid of him… at least, that’s what I tell myself. I know which battles to fight and which to pass by, and I’m not sure if there even is one here or if my paranoid mind is conjuring up scenarios that I don’t have to worry about. Choosing to ignore the ticking clock that’s counting down the days until I leave, I take my seat.
“Help yourself,” he says, gesturing at the three, huge plates of fresh, homemade pizza that are sitting in the center of the table.
“Thank you,” I reply with a small smile, telling myself to stop being stupid and just enjoy the food, the company, and the safety he promised I’d find here.
Chapter Three
Robyn
Time drags slowly by as the Biology professor drones on and on. I’m pretty sure that I have the textbook memorized from cover to cover by now, especially with all the revision sessions we’ve had on it. Sometimes I think that she lied to get her job, because nearly everything she says is word for word copied from the text that has been neatly printed in front of me. Her name isn’t the one on the cover, but I actually checked once, because I was certain that even without it in front of her that it sounded familiar.
As the hands of the clock seem to stutter their way around the dial, I fight back a yawn and try not to fall asleep in my chair. Forcing myself to sit more upright so I don’t drift off, I accidentally bash my leg against the table… loudly. I stiffen in my seat when the whole class turns to glance at me. Glad it was because I bashed my leg and not because I’d fallen asleep or something, I smile embarrassedly as they all turn back to their work.
I hear the faint whisper of one of the girls sitting a few desks along from me. “Nerd.”
I roll my eyes. No one here really knows me. All they see is the focused student who has no proper family, and the fact that I study as hard as I do is so I can get into college and go my own way. I have no parents to financially support me, and even a grant or loan won’t cover all of my tuition, which means I have to bust my ass to try and get at least a partial scholarship.
As we prepare to leave the class after the lesson, one of my classmates attempts to trip me. Losing my balance, my hip hits the corner of the desk, shifting it slightly with the force of my body. It takes all my careful control to keep the mask in place and not show them that it bothers me. While the other members of the class move past me, I force my lips into a smile as fake as the faces they paint on each morning.
When I finally leave the building, I inhale the fresh air, and moving swiftly away from the swarm of students behind me, I breathe out a sigh of relief. A motorbike revs nearby, speeding down the road and past the school with a thunderous roar as it tears its way out of town… where I want so badly to go.
I start to head out of the school and begin my jog home, but someone grabs my wrist, halting my progress. After scanning the car park where everyone is now heading to their cars, the school bus, or leaving the grounds on foot, I round on whoever it is with a glare and wrench my arm away.