Chapter 1
Your name is Dave Elizabeth Strider, and you really do not want to fucking be here right now. The chair you're sitting in makes you feel small, sinking down into the cheap leather cushion, with the top of the desk across from you only slightly above your eye level. Behind the desk, the social worker sits, sifting through several files and papers, and you can't help but notice a few photos flutter out between pages. You catch a glimpse of one- the kitchen in your apartment (well, your old apartment), with swords and daggers scattered around. A pang of guilt strikes your chest and a shudder runs through your body, and oh god, you're so glad that your shades cover half your face. Hopefully it hides the pain in your expression.
"Elizabeth Strider," he huffs, finally finding the papers he was searching for and gazing at you over his desk.
"Dave," you correct him. "I'm a boy- it- it's in my files."
He shifts again, glancing down at the paper, and picking up a pen, likely to correct the misgender mistake on your file. "Right, I apologize," he says, and you breathe a sigh of relief. So far, social workers seem understanding of your situation, which has been nice. You're not used to adults accepting your word when you tell them you're a boy.
"Dave, ah…oh, here it is, Dave E. Strider," he nods his head, a small smile forming on his chubby face. "Well, I've looked over your case, and spoke with your previous social worker and counselor, and we've come to a conclusion. You'll be placed into a group home, and you'll attend personal and group therapy sessions weekly."
"Group home?" you almost sneer, like it was a dirty word.
"I'm sorry but…well, the sad truth is that kids your age don't often get adopted. You're almost sixteen, you'll be legal in two years, and most honest people don't want that in a child they're adopting," he explains, and you know it's true. "But group homes have come a long way in the past decade. You'll be placed with kids who are around your own age, and you get a monthly allowance through the state, up until you're 19, even if you decide to move out by then."
Monthly allowance? Okay, yeah, that does sound pretty alright. You relax slightly against the uncomfortable chair, gazing up at the social worker through your shades. "What about, uh…therapy?" You're still not too sure about that part.
"Well, your case was deemed as…traumatic," he pauses to gauge your reaction, but you're not giving anything away behind your stoic frown and hidden eyes. "You'll be attending personal therapy sessions once per week, and group therapy twice per week."
"Three fucking days each week?" you gape, forgetting to filter your words.
"Only until school starts up again, then you'll just be having personal therapy once per week," he answers. "It'll be good for you. Socializing with people who have been through similar things, being able to know that you're not alone."
"I don't need to fuckin talk to anybody," you argue, sitting up from the chair as you begin to lose your cool. "I don't want to fuckin talk to anybody, and what kind of similar things? I haven't been through anything! Unless you're talkin about the trans thing, which honestly isn't a huge fuckin deal for me, I'm already on hormones."
"Well, you'll also need to see the therapist to continue qualifying for your hormone treatment," he adds, notably uncomfortable by your words.
You huff as you flop back in the chair, crossing your arms and gazing up at the ceiling. "Fine, whatever, I don't care," you sigh. After a beat of silence, you glance down at the social worker again. "Will I get to visit my bro?"
He stiffens noticeably, a look of concern on his face. "We'll have to wait and see what the court says, and what your therapist recommends…but for now, I'm issuing a no contact rule."
"So he can't even fuckin call me from prison? The calls are monitored for godssake!" You're fuming, ready to bolt out of your seat.
"I'm sorry Dave, you'll have to wait," he sighs, setting down your files. "I can give you the answer to that in about three weeks. Until then, focus on getting settled with the new home and your therapy sessions."
You're not happy, not in the slightest, but you know this is all out of your control. You're fifteen, orphaned, and without your guardian. There's nothing you can do but let the system take you away.
The group home isn't anything like you imagined it to be. It was almost like a small hotel, or a college dorm. The building was three stories high, the bottom level being the common area of the kitchen, dining room, living room, and even a corner where a table of board games and video games were sprawled out. Overall it looked pretty nice. There was a big, L-shaped couch in the living room, and a nicely sized flat screen television. Walking past, you noticed two boys arguing with each other while playing what looked like some sort of shooter-game on an Xbox.
The second and third floors were where the bedrooms were housed. Each floor had four bedrooms, and there were two kids assigned to each room. One of the rooms on the second floor was reserved for your care-takers, of course. You weren't sure how full the house was, but the room you had been assigned, you discover, already has a designated roommate for you. You shuffle your feet to the empty bed, setting down your bags and turning to your social worker.
"Uh…do they know about my, uh…situation?" you ask, a hand patting at your binded-flat chest.
"The caretakers, yes, they know, they've been informed of everything in your files," he answers, and you nod, unsure of how you feel about this.
"So, my roommate is-" you begin, cut off by a grumble at the door.
"Me," a boy answers. He crosses his arms and seems to almost stomp over to you. "I'm Karkat, and there are a couple rules I've got about this room, since we're being forced to share."
"I'll let you two get acquainted while I go speak to Ms. Marium," the social worker states as he moves out to the hallway.
You turn your attention back to the boy in front of you and smirk when you notice that he is about the same height as you. He seemed to be a cis-boy, and since your body was still that of a girl's, it was funny to you that he was about the same size as you were. So, he was short. Short and angry. "Napolien complex, huh?" you huff.
"What the fuck does that mean?" he asks, scrunching up his face, then quickly brushes it off, shaking his head. "Whatever, look, just listen to me here. Number one, keep your shit away from my side of the room. Number two, don't touch my stuff. And number three, if anything against the dumbass rules goes on in here, you better not be a fuckin snitch. Snitches get stitches, and I've got more friends here than you do, kid."
"Sure, whatever," you shrug, plopping down onto your bed, which was already covered with a set of sheets and blankets. "Kitkat, right? My name's Dave."
"Karkat, you fuckwad," he huffs, looking angry again. "How old are you?"
"Fifteen, you?"
"Same," he answers, still frowning. Does this kid not know how to smile?
The two of you are interrupted by a soft knock at the door, and a kind-looking woman pokes her head through the door. Her hair is short and black, flipping out at her shoulders, and her eyes are a piercing green. Her smile is soft and motherly as she moves gracefully into the room.
"David, nice to meet you," she greets you. "I see you've met your roommate, Karkat. I hope you're being nice, I know how you aren't keen on sharing your space."
"I don't fuckin care," Karkat huffs, crossing his arms again. "Just tell him not to touch my stuff."
"We'll be going over the house rules at dinner tonight, so he'll be well informed, don't worry," she smiles warmly, placing a hand on Karkat's shoulder. You see his anger subdued by her, and, hey, she doesn't seem to be so bad. Maybe you'll end up liking it here after all.
Once you get your things unpacked, it's just about time for dinner. Apparently it was at 6pm every night, Monday through Thursday. That was when it was mandatory, that is. You and the other kids were allowed to do your own thing on the weekends, and apparently a bunch of them liked to throw parties sometimes. As dumb as it sounded, you had to admit that did seem pretty cool.
Dinner was delicious, you had to admit. Ms. Kanaya (as she liked to be called, rather than by her last name), was a great cook. She did get help from some of the other kids, too. You were on your third helping of mashed potatoes and sulsberry steak, when she finally cleared her throat to talk.
"Well, as you all know, we've got someone new with us today," she gestures towards you, and you feel a blush of embarrassment creep across your cheeks. "This is Dave, he's rooming with Karkat. Dave, would you like to say anything about yourself?"
"Uh," you swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You normally didn't mind being the center of attention, but these were kind of weird circumstances. "Yeah, I'm Dave, Dave Strider. I'm into gaming and ironically shitty comics, and I guess music, too."
"Do you play anything?" a girl speaks up. She's got long black hair and circle-shaped glasses over her deep green eyes, which stand out wildly against her dark, caramel colored skin. "I'm Jade, by the way. I play guitar."
"Uh, yeah, I play a bit of violin, but I'm mostly into DJ-ing. My Bro had a whole bunch of DJ equipment- I'm hoping I can get it from our old apartment sometime," you add, and see the shifting glances a few people give each other. Obviously everyone here has a story as to why they're in the group home, but as far as you think, your story is nobody's fuckin business.
"That's so cool! We should play together sometime!" Jade exclaims, clearly excitable. "Oh, and John plays piano, too, we should all start a band or something." She points a finger at the boy sitting next to her; he's got messy black hair hanging over his square-rimmed glasses and a goofy buck-toothed smile. Great, you sigh, you've fallen in with the nerdy crowd.
Kanaya smiles as she gets up to start clearing the table of the main dishes, while the other kids break back into their bits of chatter. Everyone had been introduced to you before dinner began, and as you look around the table, you recall everyone's names. Directly next to you was your new roommate, Karkat. Beside him was one of the kids you saw playing video games when you first walked in- his name was Sollux and he seemed to be best friends with Karkat. Then there was this really cute Latina girl with shiny red glasses over her eyes. Her name is Terezi, and you're guessing she's blind since the girl next to her, Nepita, was helping her get food on her plate. And then there was Jade and John, who had gone back to laughing with each other after speaking to you. So including yourself, there was seven kids in this house. Not too bad, you guess. They all seemed pretty okay, other than your new roommate who was kind of an asshole.
After the table was cleared from dinner, the other kids seemed to disperse, John and Jade going to play some dorky board game together, Nepita was cuddled on the couch with her cat- (apparently they could have pets in this house?). Meanwhile Karkat and Sollux sat down on the carpet in front of the television to play some video games. You began to approach them, considering this your best option, but are nearly knocked over as Terezi zooms past you.
"I get first player!" she screeches in her loud obnoxious voice. She plops herself between the two boys and gropes around until she finds a controller. Sollux groans and rolls his eyes, while Karkat just glances at her and shrugs. He then seems to notice you, and, wow, what a surprise, he's not making an angry expression.
"You wanna play too?" he asks, offering a controller.
"Yeah, sure." You take it and sit on the couch behind them, squinting slightly to see what game you were about to play. Just like before, another shooter. You're decent enough with these, so you know you won't embarrass yourself. At least, you can't possibly do any worse than the fucking blind girl.
"Boomshot!" Terezi yells, jumping onto her knees. "I felt it, I felt it in my controller, who did I kill?!"
"Fuck, me, again," Karkat groans, going through the respawn screen for the tenth time. He tosses his controller down in defeat, crossing his arms. "Fuck this, I'm done."
"Aw, what's wrong Kar-kar?" Terezi grins, leaning her head onto his shoulder. "Getting upset that the blind girl still kicks your ass at video games?"
"Fuck off," he shoves her aside as he stands up. "I'm goin to bed." He pauses, glancing at you, and, what does he want? Does he want you to come along with him? Should you go to bed too? It is already 11pm, you notice, and the four of you are the only ones still in the common area. Terezi seems to be grabbing her cane and heading towards the stairs as well, but Sollux continues to stare at the screen and play.
"He'll be up til like five in the morning," Karkat grumbles. "Fuckin nerd."
You follow him up the stairs, watching as he pats Terezi on the shoulder as she goes to her own room. Once the door closes behind you in your new bedroom, you pause, looking around at this place you'll be calling home from now on. It was strange.
You hadn't dwelled on it much, but this is where you're going to be living from now on. This place was your home now, this was your room. No more apartment complex. No more stereo systems scattered around your room. No more Bro. No more Bro…
"Are…are you fuckin crying?" Karkat's surprised tone of voice snaps you away from your thoughts.
You reach up to wipe your cheeks and swipe your fingers under your shades to dry your eyes. How fuckin embarrassing. You decide to ignore and deny it, and flop onto your own bed. You don't bother changing your clothes, and you figure you'll wait until Karkat is asleep until you take off your binder.
After hearing some shuffling around, the light flicks off, and you hear your new roommate settle into his bed, across from yours. "Listen," he speaks in a softer tone than usual. "I know it's shitty. It's real fuckin messed up that any of us have to be here. I'm not gonna ask what happened or why you're here, cuz I honestly don't give a flying shit about it or you. But…as far as group homes go, this is the best one you could hope to get. So yeah, the situation sucks, but things will turn out okay."
After that, there was silence, and you listened as he slipped into a deep sleep. You slip off your binder and find an oversized hoodie to wear to bed to hide your budding chest. With a shaky sigh, you finally settle under the covers of your new bed, and close your tearstained eyes to rest.