It seems like time really does fly, I just never really paid attention when adults said that. It seemed just a few months ago that I've celebrated my last birthday. But I realized with a sinking feeling that this one is going to be different- way different- from the other birthdays. It all started this morning. I was on my way downstairs for breakfast when I hastily stopped myself, and dared to eavesdrop on my adopted parents.
"Are they coming to get her?"
"How am I supposed to know, by all means?"
"It is her 13th birthday tomorrow. That's when-"
"When they are supposed to go, yes, I know."
And now here I am, on my bed, with that very positive thought of someone- or something- coming to get me. The way they talked about it, I seriously doubted it was good.
My name is Tasha West. My parents died in an accident, an so Uncle Brian- my mum's brother- and his wife, Sally, took me in. Almost everybody addresses them as Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs, since Uncle Brian owning a company and everything. I never really cared much about that, I really don't even remember the name of the company. We live in a nice two-story house in Richmond, England on Beckenham Road. Anywho, everybody's attitude towards me changes when they find out about my parents. For instance, when my uncle and aunt took me for some document printing- I don't remember what it was for- and the lady at the desk asked for our names, and when I told her, she looked a little confused and started writing Jacobs as my last name, even though I had told her my real last name. "West," I said, "My last name is West." The lady still looked confused for a while, and then her expression softend. "I see," she said, "I'm sorry, dear." That kind of thing happens very often.
Even at school, I'm an outsider. I have friends, about two or three, but I really don't have anyone that I can call my best friend. My hair is the lightest shade of brunette, and I have hazel eyes. I'm really, really small and skinny for my age, so I sometimes just don't fit in.
Anyway, I had trouble sleeping that night. I stayed up late tossing and turning on my bed, but in the end, my eyes drooped and I gave myself up to sleep. If I knew that I wouldn't be sleeping on that bed for a long, long time, maybe I would have enjoyed myself more while I slept.