Moving
"We're here Natt." Said Mrs. Kroach.
I looked up from my book and at the house in front of me. Orphanage number seven. I sighed. My parents died when I was a little over a year old in an airplane crash. I was with them- the only one on the entire plane to survive.
"Natt? Aren't you going to get out of the car?" asked Mrs. Kroach.
"I suppose so." I answered as I got out of the car. Mrs. Kroach gripped my arm and spun me around until I faced her.
"Don't worry," She said knowingly, "everything will be fine."
I had gone through too much in my life to believe that. "But what if it's like all the others?" I asked worrying, "What if people make fun of me because I'm shorter than everyone?"
Mrs. Kroach rolled her eyes at me. "Grow up." She said, "You'll be fine. You'll go to a good school and be like a normal child. They have the highest reviws here. Natt, you'll be eleven in a week. You'll be fine, trust me."
"I do trust you." I said quietly. Mrs. Kroach had been my social worker since before I could remember and somehow everything turns out fine. We walked up the walkway and through the heavy door.
The door opened into a long halway. It had four doors and a few chairs. The light brown wall make a kind of calming mood. Mrs. Kroach led me to the nearest door with a plaque on it reading "Office."
"Hello," Said an old lady, "you must be Natt."
"Yes ma'am." I mumbled looking down.
"I'm Mrs. Lamente, the director here. I hope you feel welcome. The children are all generally nice." She said before getting down to business, "You have room number 27. Lunch is at noon, and the children will be home from school around 4. Oh, and here's your schedule for when you start school tomorrow." Mrs. Lamente handed me a paper. "You may go now."