Chapter One

"Taliya, I think you should get a job this summer." That was the first thing my mom said to me when I walked in the door after my last day of school. She was holding a crying baby, Gregory, I think.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you don't have anything to do this summer. And you could really use the work ethic and responsibility. Plus, I wouldn't mind having some financial help around here." I really couldn't argue with that, because things had been a little tight lately.

My parents run a foster home; they've done it for as long as I can remember. I'm their only actual child. After my mom had me, my parents wanted to have another kid, but there was a problem and the doctors told them that they couldn't have any more kids. Adoption was too expensive for my dad's police officer salary, but both of my parents had wanted a really big family, so they decided to help children in need of homes and started a foster care home.

"I guess I can at least look for one," I sighed. There went my summer freedom, but that was okay. I told myself that it would not be the worst thing in the world to have a little extra cash to spend at the mall.

My mom turned and started walking toward the kitchen, stepping over piles of toys as she went. Kids were screaming in the background. "Oh and," she turned around to face me, "our new neighbor is coming over tonight for dinner, so you might want to freshen up. You know, look presentable. He's a professor at the state university."

Great, I thought. Why did my parents always have to invite old people over for dinner? That usually meant that I would be stuck looking after all eight kids while the adults talked about the economy or something. I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom. Haley was sitting on my bed playing with her pigtails.

Haley is probably my favorite foster sibling. She is seven years old and the cutest girl you've ever seen. She has dirty blond hair, big and bright blue eyes, and almost no teeth. Her story is so sad. Her mom died giving birth to her, but her dad was mentally ill and put into an asylum when she was five. She has very violent memories of him beating her, and she has had to go to intense psychotherapy since we got her. It's amazing that she still smiles.

"Hey, Hales. Whatcha doin?" I asked her playfully.

"I was waiting for you to come in."

"Why?"

"Becaaaaaaauuuuuuse."

"Because what, silly goose?"

"I want you to put those French braids in my hair, for tonight. Faith told us that a man was coming over and that we should dress up nice." Faith is my mom's name. She doesn't let the kids call her "mom" even though most of them do naturally anyway.

"Alright take your pigtails out. Let me go get a comb." I spent the next half hour doing Haley's hair and helping her pick out an outfit. We decided on a black dress with bright pink leggings. Haley has a kind of off style, but it's spunky and works for her. I think that's what I like most about her.

Finally, after I finished with her, I was able to focus on myself. I sat down in front of my vanity in my bedroom. Looking at me through the mirror was a brown-haired green-eyed mess. I had done way too much celebrating the end of my junior year. I re-applied my makeup: cover-up, eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. Then I threw my hair into a bun. It was messy, but not to messy. It looked effortless, but professional. I wanted to look good, because this guy was a college professor and the state university was one of the places I was planning on applying to. I slipped into a navy blue, knee length skirt. I put on a light blue shirt and topped it with a crisp, white blazer. Then I went into my mom's closet and grabbed some flats to wear. I was ready to go.

For the next hour and a half I helped my mom get the kids ready while she started dinner. My dad got home at 5:45, and our guest of honor was showing up at six-thirty. My dad and I rushed to get the house cleaned up, putting toy after toy away, but by six-fifteen, things were looking bleak.

"I need all kids to come downstairs right now!" yelled my dad up the steps. Suddenly 16 little feet raced down the stairs. Everyone lined up like they were in the army, I couldn't help but laugh. "Everyone needs to do their share of chores today, so I need everyone to pick up the toys." A cluster of groans came out.

Matty stepped forward and in his timid little voice said, "But I didn't make no mess." That got everyone talking about they didn't make a mess either. My dad just stood there, not really knowing what to do, so I figured it was my cue.

"Hey! You guys, zip it." Eight pairs of eyes looked up at me. Then I yelled, "If-you-guys-get-all-the-toys-picked-before-our-new-neighbor-gets-here-you-all-get-extra-dessert!" Then it was like mass-cleaning-chaos and by the time Mr. Hughes knocked on the front door, the house was spotless. My mom had us all sit in the living room, wiped her hands on her apron, and opened the door. That was the first time I saw Zackary Hughes.

Oh, shit, I thought. He was gorgeous.