Hello! I know to start out with, I'm only going to have my very loyal friend reading this (Thanks, Gin!) but hopefully it will attract some other attention eventually. And, if you like it, I'd appriciate it if you would read my other stories, which you can find by clicking on my user name up there in the left corner.
Disclaimer- Nothing is mine! Anything you recognize from J.K. Rowling's work is hers. Any mention of any other material type things was probably invented by some rich inventor, and any movies, books, etc. is probably owned by someone else too. I came up with the idea, somm of the characters, and all the other things you see in such disclaimers. Now, if this doesn't disclaimer doesn't satisfy you, do me a favor, go look at someone elses, and then come back to read!
Summary- Foster child, Farren, meets the marauders and tried to tip them off about their future without changing it. The impossiblity of this task ways heavily on her all ready scattered life, but she copes. In the process she learns for the first time what friendship really is like, but even more important, she learns about love. She keeps a sketchbook and draws in it whenever anything important happens.
Prologue
Farren Valencia Alma carefully sorted through the gold and silver jewelry that lie on the drab, brown blanket that covered the cot in her small room. Outside her door, she could hear the sounds of the nineteen other children, who all needed to be placed in foster or adoptive homes. Farren was sixteen and the oldest child at the Texas based orphanage, which she referred to as simply The Home. She was also the only child ever to have lived at The Home for their whole life. She did go to foster homes, it was just that she never got adopted by them, and they all sent her back pretty quickly. The longest she had stayed was five months, the shortest 3 weeks. She glared at the jewelry, immediately feeling bad. She didn't have long to brood on the feeling, however, because she soon heard wailing outside her door and six-year-old Anya Wellings burst in.
Anya's brunette hair was tangly and flying, her face was red, and her pretty, but unusual amber colored eyes were filled with tears. She rushed to Farren, threw herself into her arms, and sobbed. Farren wasn't surprised even though it had been three weeks since Anya had thrown a tantrum. Ever since Farren had befriended the finicky child, Anya had behaved better than anyone in The Home had ever seen her act. Farren supposed they must have told her the news, and she couldn't help but mentally sigh.
"Th-they said you was goin' away again." Anya sobbed, once she had sufficiently calmed down enough to talk.
"Oh, sweety, the found some new foster family for me. But you know they never adopt me, and when they don't adopt people, they send them back right away." Farren said softly in Anya's ear. She really wished The Home would stop trying so hard, because she would just assume stay in her teeny bedroom here, and help with the kids, and leave in two years, when she was eighteen, going to college, and a legal adult.
Anya sniffed and held her a little less tight. She smiled uncertainly and began to look around the room.
"Can I help you pack?" she asked, sniffing.
"Sure, Anya-Anna-Banana." Farren Replied cheerfully.
"Will you tell me the story of the trunk first?"
"Again?" Farren teased.
"Yes!" Anya said, sticking out her bottom lip in the pout that Farren had taught her to use.
"All right." Farren said with false exasperation. "When my parents decide to have a baby, they later realized that they were to young to properly raise on." She began, and paused for the question that always came.
"Why did they change their minds?" Anya asked predictable.
"I suppose they didn't know how hard it would be until later. Anyway, my parents decided to bring me here, and they seemed to know I would have some hard times, and so they gave me a name to fit that."
"Farren Valencia Alma." Anya said in a hushed voice, like always.
"Yes. They decided that my name should mean Wanderer, Brave Soul. Of course, they didn't have much choice about the last name."
"Alma."
"Yes, Alma. And so they brought me here, and filled out all the papers, and gave me my grandmother's trunk, which at the time was filled with all the stuff that you need to raise a baby. But, inside it there were a few other things. There was a Faith Hill C.D., which was my mother's favorite, at the time. There was my fathers football helmet-"
"'Cause he was still in high school when he had you." Anya chimed in.
"Yeah, exactly. And there was this jewelry box, with all of the jewelry of my great grandmother, and her daughter, and her daughter, who is my mother, and now my jewelry."
"And, the pictures, don't forget the pictures!" Anya said quickly.
"And there was a picture frame, with three slots in it. Two were already filled with my mother and father's senior pictures. And soon, my senior picture is going to be in there with them." She finished and gently pushed Anya off her lap. "Now, I'll do the checklist, you tell me if it's in there, alright?" She asked, unlocking her trunk and went back to sorting the jewelry.
"You're so lucky, Farren." Anya said softly after a moment of thoughtful silence.
"Why do you think that, Anya." Farren said, confusion in her voice, privately thinking that she was anything but lucky.
"You have some stuff that was your parents'. And you don't have to miss them, 'cause you didn't even know them. And you have your own room here at the home, 'cause you are the oldest person here and cause you practically work here when you're not at school. 'Cause your parents are still alive, even if you're not with them."
Farren was shocked, a tiny bit angry, but mostly, she felt terrible. Anya's parents had died a few before in a terrible fire during a family reunion. The fire had taken every relative that could have possibly raised her, and a few that couldn't. The fire was the reason Anya was well on her way to being the next child in this orphanage who wouldn't get adopted (after Farren, of course). She pulled Anya closer to her and hugged her gently. "Do you know why else I'm lucky?" She whispered softly.
"Why?" Anya said sadly.
"I have you as a friend. I'm going to come back real soon, and then we'll be together again. And when we are, I'm going to ask Mr. And Mrs. Dugs to let you share this room with me. Does that sound good?"
"Yes! O-tay, I'm ready." Anya's six-year-old voice said happily. Farren inwardly marveled at how quickly she could switch moods.
"Alright. Do I have my five Harry Potter books? How about the Princess Bride book? One Bible? Two pairs of P.J.s?" She asked.
"Check, check, check, and check." Anya said happily.
"Good! Socks? Underwear?"
"Yep, um, four, six, no seven pairs of all of it, one for each day!"
"Excellent. Robe? Shirts? Pants? Jeans?" Farren mentally pictured each stack in the trunk.
"Yeah, black night robe, um, te-no twelve shirts, two black jazz pants and two khaki, and er, four pairs of jeans."
"Marvelous! All right, is my personal bag in there? What about my picture frame and baby blanket? What about the C.D. and helmet?"
"The one you still use, even though it's too small." Anya said. It wasn't a question, just a fact. "Yes, and then all that's left is the space where the jewelry box goes. You forgot to ask me about your wand!" Anya said happily.
"Is my wand in there?" She asked for Anya's benefit, mentally wishing she hadn't ordered the $40 wand when she was 12, which was very realistic looking, but not very practical. It was really cool to have, especially when Anya wanted to play, but when she needed a lot of money, she always wondered if she shouldn't have bought it. However, it was still something that she really loved.
Farren quickly finished with the jewelry box, put it in the black and gold trunk and closed it up. 'Three latches, two locks.' Farren thought to herself as she did up all of them. She slid the two keys into her pocket and began to drag the box to the middle of the room. Then she pulled Anya into a hug and whispered in her ear.
"I'm going to be gone before you wake up, so when I tuck you in tonight, remember to hug me real tight after prayer, okay?" She asked her.
"O-tay." Anya said seriously. "It's bath time. I promise to be real good so the last thing you remember about me till you come back is that the dogs think I'm very obdiant."
"Obedient, Anya. What you mean is obedient. Besides, you shouldn't call Mr. And Mrs. Dugs the dogs. How bout I help you with you bath tonight, huh?" She said, thinking about how hard the two owners of The Home were working on 'The Farren Case'.
"Yes! Farren's gonna give me a bath, Farren's gonna give me a bath!" Anya said happily, chanting all the way into the hall and down to the bathroom, which, miraculously, was empty. Farren glanced in the mirror at her long auburn hair, small hazel eyes, 5'3 ½ frame, and pale countenance, and wondered if her new foster family would like her. She couldn't help hoping that they wouldn't and that they would send her back very soon.
"Guess were a little late, huh, Anya?" Farren asked, as she set about cleaning the active little girl with her favorite smelling soap.
"You know what, Farren?" Anya asked happily.
"No, but I do know his cousin which; she's real nice." Farren said jokingly.
"No, I mean I have something to tell you!"
"Oh, well why didn't you say so? What is it?"
"I think that God wants you to go, so I can talk to him more, 'cause I won't be able to talk to you . I think that he has something important for you to do there." Farren was extremely touched. She had just recently been able to convince Anya that Jesus was real, and now, everyday after school, she read some bits of the Bible to her. Farren herself was an avid believer but recently, it seemed to her that her faith was weakening terrible. First, she had watched people who had once had her as a foster child adopt three children from this very orphanage. Then, the Church she went to in Austin had burned down, and no one could take her to the other one. Now she was leaving again. She couldn't help but wonder if she was being tested, or if there wasn't a God.
'I wonder when I'll see you again, Anya. I really do. You're the only thing in my life that is completely pure, and good, and believing. I need you to keep my faith strong.' She thought remorsefully. Out loud, however, she only said, "How about we build a mountain with Farren's shaving cream? Just this once."
End of Prologue
Disclaimer- Nothing is mine! Anything you recognize from J.K. Rowling's work is hers. Any mention of any other material type things was probably invented by some rich inventor, and any movies, books, etc. is probably owned by someone else too. I came up with the idea, somm of the characters, and all the other things you see in such disclaimers. Now, if this doesn't disclaimer doesn't satisfy you, do me a favor, go look at someone elses, and then come back to read!
Summary- Foster child, Farren, meets the marauders and tried to tip them off about their future without changing it. The impossiblity of this task ways heavily on her all ready scattered life, but she copes. In the process she learns for the first time what friendship really is like, but even more important, she learns about love. She keeps a sketchbook and draws in it whenever anything important happens.
Prologue
Farren Valencia Alma carefully sorted through the gold and silver jewelry that lie on the drab, brown blanket that covered the cot in her small room. Outside her door, she could hear the sounds of the nineteen other children, who all needed to be placed in foster or adoptive homes. Farren was sixteen and the oldest child at the Texas based orphanage, which she referred to as simply The Home. She was also the only child ever to have lived at The Home for their whole life. She did go to foster homes, it was just that she never got adopted by them, and they all sent her back pretty quickly. The longest she had stayed was five months, the shortest 3 weeks. She glared at the jewelry, immediately feeling bad. She didn't have long to brood on the feeling, however, because she soon heard wailing outside her door and six-year-old Anya Wellings burst in.
Anya's brunette hair was tangly and flying, her face was red, and her pretty, but unusual amber colored eyes were filled with tears. She rushed to Farren, threw herself into her arms, and sobbed. Farren wasn't surprised even though it had been three weeks since Anya had thrown a tantrum. Ever since Farren had befriended the finicky child, Anya had behaved better than anyone in The Home had ever seen her act. Farren supposed they must have told her the news, and she couldn't help but mentally sigh.
"Th-they said you was goin' away again." Anya sobbed, once she had sufficiently calmed down enough to talk.
"Oh, sweety, the found some new foster family for me. But you know they never adopt me, and when they don't adopt people, they send them back right away." Farren said softly in Anya's ear. She really wished The Home would stop trying so hard, because she would just assume stay in her teeny bedroom here, and help with the kids, and leave in two years, when she was eighteen, going to college, and a legal adult.
Anya sniffed and held her a little less tight. She smiled uncertainly and began to look around the room.
"Can I help you pack?" she asked, sniffing.
"Sure, Anya-Anna-Banana." Farren Replied cheerfully.
"Will you tell me the story of the trunk first?"
"Again?" Farren teased.
"Yes!" Anya said, sticking out her bottom lip in the pout that Farren had taught her to use.
"All right." Farren said with false exasperation. "When my parents decide to have a baby, they later realized that they were to young to properly raise on." She began, and paused for the question that always came.
"Why did they change their minds?" Anya asked predictable.
"I suppose they didn't know how hard it would be until later. Anyway, my parents decided to bring me here, and they seemed to know I would have some hard times, and so they gave me a name to fit that."
"Farren Valencia Alma." Anya said in a hushed voice, like always.
"Yes. They decided that my name should mean Wanderer, Brave Soul. Of course, they didn't have much choice about the last name."
"Alma."
"Yes, Alma. And so they brought me here, and filled out all the papers, and gave me my grandmother's trunk, which at the time was filled with all the stuff that you need to raise a baby. But, inside it there were a few other things. There was a Faith Hill C.D., which was my mother's favorite, at the time. There was my fathers football helmet-"
"'Cause he was still in high school when he had you." Anya chimed in.
"Yeah, exactly. And there was this jewelry box, with all of the jewelry of my great grandmother, and her daughter, and her daughter, who is my mother, and now my jewelry."
"And, the pictures, don't forget the pictures!" Anya said quickly.
"And there was a picture frame, with three slots in it. Two were already filled with my mother and father's senior pictures. And soon, my senior picture is going to be in there with them." She finished and gently pushed Anya off her lap. "Now, I'll do the checklist, you tell me if it's in there, alright?" She asked, unlocking her trunk and went back to sorting the jewelry.
"You're so lucky, Farren." Anya said softly after a moment of thoughtful silence.
"Why do you think that, Anya." Farren said, confusion in her voice, privately thinking that she was anything but lucky.
"You have some stuff that was your parents'. And you don't have to miss them, 'cause you didn't even know them. And you have your own room here at the home, 'cause you are the oldest person here and cause you practically work here when you're not at school. 'Cause your parents are still alive, even if you're not with them."
Farren was shocked, a tiny bit angry, but mostly, she felt terrible. Anya's parents had died a few before in a terrible fire during a family reunion. The fire had taken every relative that could have possibly raised her, and a few that couldn't. The fire was the reason Anya was well on her way to being the next child in this orphanage who wouldn't get adopted (after Farren, of course). She pulled Anya closer to her and hugged her gently. "Do you know why else I'm lucky?" She whispered softly.
"Why?" Anya said sadly.
"I have you as a friend. I'm going to come back real soon, and then we'll be together again. And when we are, I'm going to ask Mr. And Mrs. Dugs to let you share this room with me. Does that sound good?"
"Yes! O-tay, I'm ready." Anya's six-year-old voice said happily. Farren inwardly marveled at how quickly she could switch moods.
"Alright. Do I have my five Harry Potter books? How about the Princess Bride book? One Bible? Two pairs of P.J.s?" She asked.
"Check, check, check, and check." Anya said happily.
"Good! Socks? Underwear?"
"Yep, um, four, six, no seven pairs of all of it, one for each day!"
"Excellent. Robe? Shirts? Pants? Jeans?" Farren mentally pictured each stack in the trunk.
"Yeah, black night robe, um, te-no twelve shirts, two black jazz pants and two khaki, and er, four pairs of jeans."
"Marvelous! All right, is my personal bag in there? What about my picture frame and baby blanket? What about the C.D. and helmet?"
"The one you still use, even though it's too small." Anya said. It wasn't a question, just a fact. "Yes, and then all that's left is the space where the jewelry box goes. You forgot to ask me about your wand!" Anya said happily.
"Is my wand in there?" She asked for Anya's benefit, mentally wishing she hadn't ordered the $40 wand when she was 12, which was very realistic looking, but not very practical. It was really cool to have, especially when Anya wanted to play, but when she needed a lot of money, she always wondered if she shouldn't have bought it. However, it was still something that she really loved.
Farren quickly finished with the jewelry box, put it in the black and gold trunk and closed it up. 'Three latches, two locks.' Farren thought to herself as she did up all of them. She slid the two keys into her pocket and began to drag the box to the middle of the room. Then she pulled Anya into a hug and whispered in her ear.
"I'm going to be gone before you wake up, so when I tuck you in tonight, remember to hug me real tight after prayer, okay?" She asked her.
"O-tay." Anya said seriously. "It's bath time. I promise to be real good so the last thing you remember about me till you come back is that the dogs think I'm very obdiant."
"Obedient, Anya. What you mean is obedient. Besides, you shouldn't call Mr. And Mrs. Dugs the dogs. How bout I help you with you bath tonight, huh?" She said, thinking about how hard the two owners of The Home were working on 'The Farren Case'.
"Yes! Farren's gonna give me a bath, Farren's gonna give me a bath!" Anya said happily, chanting all the way into the hall and down to the bathroom, which, miraculously, was empty. Farren glanced in the mirror at her long auburn hair, small hazel eyes, 5'3 ½ frame, and pale countenance, and wondered if her new foster family would like her. She couldn't help hoping that they wouldn't and that they would send her back very soon.
"Guess were a little late, huh, Anya?" Farren asked, as she set about cleaning the active little girl with her favorite smelling soap.
"You know what, Farren?" Anya asked happily.
"No, but I do know his cousin which; she's real nice." Farren said jokingly.
"No, I mean I have something to tell you!"
"Oh, well why didn't you say so? What is it?"
"I think that God wants you to go, so I can talk to him more, 'cause I won't be able to talk to you . I think that he has something important for you to do there." Farren was extremely touched. She had just recently been able to convince Anya that Jesus was real, and now, everyday after school, she read some bits of the Bible to her. Farren herself was an avid believer but recently, it seemed to her that her faith was weakening terrible. First, she had watched people who had once had her as a foster child adopt three children from this very orphanage. Then, the Church she went to in Austin had burned down, and no one could take her to the other one. Now she was leaving again. She couldn't help but wonder if she was being tested, or if there wasn't a God.
'I wonder when I'll see you again, Anya. I really do. You're the only thing in my life that is completely pure, and good, and believing. I need you to keep my faith strong.' She thought remorsefully. Out loud, however, she only said, "How about we build a mountain with Farren's shaving cream? Just this once."
End of Prologue