Selena's POV:
Sometimes I wonder why bad things happen to good people. People who are young and beautiful and have more reasons to live than half the bitter people you know. My father used to tell me it's not good to think like that, but I don't bother listening to him and his advice anymore.
His words are rarely ever his, but that of a drunk man who's breath reeks of alcohol and insecurity. Ever since my mom died, all he ever does is drink... God forbid he pay any attention to his only remaining daughter. I say only remaining daughter because all my sisters have cut off contact with him, and in the process, me as well. I haven't seen them in over four years, and that was at our mother's funeral.
One night when I was crying and upset, I asked my father why bad things had to happen to people who didn't deserve it. I was young, only eleven years old at the time, so I didn't understand how drunk he really was. All he could do was laugh at me and call me a baby, telling me dead people shouldn't matter in the lives of the living. Ever since her death, he went downhill, and that's when he started to become scary.
I got taken away not long after that, but trust me, it wasn't the first time he pulled a stunt like that. The only difference between this time and last was that last time he didn't get caught.
This time he left me alone in the house for over a week. He never came to see me or feed me. The neighbors called the police when they heard me screaming one night, begging my father to let me out.
"Dad!" I remember screaming. "Please, let me out! I'm sorry! I'll be a better daughter! Let me out, let me out, let me out!"
When the police found me, I was a nervous wreck. All I could was cry and ask where my father was, but no one would give me a hint of information. Every time someone closed the door I would scream.
I was placed into the foster system at eleven years old. My sisters didn't want me and I had no other known family members. I was an orphaned ward of the state, a pathetic chairity case.
To be honest, it didn't hurt me that much when they took me away from my father. When I was a baby, my parents divorced, and my father ignored me for five years. The only reason he had custody of me was because my mother had passed away and he was the only biological parent I had left. Thank god they took me away when they did. I don't think I would be alive if I was still under his care.
Things slowly started to get better as time went on. I soon began to erase the monster from my memory, barley even remembering who he was at one point. He didn't want me, and I certainly didn't want him.
Sure, I moved from foster home to foster home often, but when you lived a life like I did, anything was fine. It didn't surprise me when they didn't want to keep me, either. No one ever wants to keep the older kids. Four years had passed, and I finally found the perfect foster home.
The Lopez's. They had a daughter around my age and a son three years older than me. In my mind, they were the perfect family. They had one daughter (Mary), one son (Richard), a dog named Spike, a big two story house, and a white picket fence. When I joined their family, I couldn't help but feel loved.
For once in my life I felt like I belonged somewhere. I had a foster father who actually loved me, a foster mother who was always there for me, and loving foster siblings who always had my back. My foster parent's names were Luis and Veronica, but they insisted I called them mom and dad.
It sound's like a fairytale ending for a foster child, right? I wish, but this is me we're talking about. Things never work out for me.
One day my foster family went out to the mall, but I stayed home that night. I had been sick the whole week prior to the outing, so it was only fair I stayed home. I waited for them to come home, and waited, and waited. No one ever came for me.
After waiting for hours, I finally feel asleep out of pure exhaustion. The next morning I wake up extra early and began searching the house. "Mary!" I call out. "Richard!" I call out once more. No answer. I grab the house phone and dial my foster mother's number, and again, I'm left with no answer.
As the time passes I become more and more anxious. Where could they possibly be? Did they decide they didn't want me anymore, and figured this was the best way to get rid of me?
I wait by the front door, still hoping they'd all return to me. At exactly 1:58 P.M. there's a knock at the door. The noise makes me jump up. I immediately head to the door, expecting my family to be outside, but instead two large men were standing on my door step.
They're police officers, and before I can ask them their business, they start speaking to me. Apparently my family had died in a car accident the night before... And my mother and father's ID's lead them to this address...
"Were there any survivors?" I cry out.
"No, I'm sorry for you loss. We've identified the bodies of a man and a woman, but the two teenagers we found had no ID to indicate who they are. We're assuming the teenagers are their children, but we still need someone to come and identify the bodies."
I nearly fall to my knees while in tears. Later that day, I identify the bodies as Mary and Richard. Both of them looked so... Empty. I had only seen the dead once, and that was my own mother. I don't remember much though, because I was too afraid to look at her. Now I wish I had.
Now, five days after all the funerals, I'm sitting in my social worker's office once more. I feel like I have a close connection with her, considering the fact that she's been my social worker for over four years.
"Do I have to leave again?" I question her with a sad tone in my voice. "I don't want to leave again. I hate leaving."
Samantha, my social worker, looks down at me with sad brown eyes. She can tell I don't want to leave. I've been at this foster home for over six months. I go to school, have a daily routine, and I've even made friends. I don't want all of that to be taken away from me again. I'm tired of not having any stability in my life.
"You know there's nothing I can do, sweetheart," she whispers to me. "The Lopez's can't take care of you anymore... And I'm sorry for that."
"So that's it?" I let out angrily. "I'm just going to be thrown into that stupid foster system again?"
"I'm afraid so," she replies while trying to sound sincere. "According to these records, it looks like you've gotten lucky."
"Lucky?" I repeat to her with curiousity.
"Yup, we're sending you to a family in San Diego, the Adams Fosters. By the looks of it, they have a good track record with foster kids. They've already adopted three of them."
"Are they a happy family?" I ask.
"You'll find out soon enough sweetheart," she tells me.
"The Lopez's were a happy family," I whisper after a long moment of silence.
Samantha looks at me with pain burning in her eyes. She knows I haven't been stable these past few days, but she also knows her hands are tied. She knows I have no other choice but to be forced back into the foster system.
"And I'm sorry for that," she says, her tone rising. "But I'm afraid this is the best we can do for now. You leave tomorrow, so make sure you pack all your things, okay?"
"I don't have much to pack anyway," I respond sadly. "Samantha, why do bad things always have to happen to good people? Like my mom, for example. She loved me more than anything, and then one day, she became sick. I didn't even know she was sick! Then a few months later, she was gone. And then there's the Lopez's. They were the best foster family I had ever been with, and all of them got taken away from me! Why does this always have to happen?"
I hang my head down and cover my face with my hands. Samantha comforts me as I cry, saying this foster family won't be as bad as all the others.
"Don't worry about any of that Selena. This family will be different. They have five wonderful children living with them, so you'll never have to feel alone. You'll always have someone by your side."
"But what if they don't like me?" I ask with complete seriousness. "Sometimes when I would be moved to a new foster home, most of the kids would hate me."
"They won't be like that," she replies.
"What if I hurt them like I hurt everyone else?" I cry out.
"Honey, none of that was your fault! These people, they'll treat you right, I promise."
"D-Do you think the Fosters will like me?" I say between sobs.
"Of course they will," she coos softly. "Think about it like this: You have a chance to start all over with a new family."
"But I hate starting over," I spit out.
All she can do is shake her head. "Come on," she says. "I'll drive you to the Lopez house one last time so you can collect your things."
My heart aches when she says "one last time" because that was the sad reality. I would never see the only real home I've ever had again. The house I shared wth my mother was amazing, but my father had to ruin the memories by moving in right after her death and messing everything up. He always messes everything up...
Samantha drives me back to my former home and I pack everything I own, which isn't a whole lot. I take a lot of Mary, Richard, and my former foster parent's things, but nothing too big or expensive.
Since they didn't legally adopt me, everything they owned would go to their extended family members. I couldn't help but take small tokens like perfume bottles, friendship bracelets, family photos, and other things of that nature.
I manage to make my way down stairs, luggage in hand, and I just stand in the living room, alone. The house is completely silent. Mary's family took Spike three days, so I don't even get to hear his comforting and protecting bark before I leave.
It takes me a while, but I finally say good bye to the place I had once called home. There was nothing left for me in Riverside. Now I'm heading off to start my whole new life in San Diego, where nobody knows about my past, and with a brand new family called the Fosters.
Hmm... The Fosters? Like with foster children? That's a little ironic, right?
Lena's POV:
Once Stef and I manage to keep all the kids in a room for more than five minutes, I start to explain to them that we'll be adding a new addition to our family, a foster child named Selena Almodovar.
"Her name is Selena Almodovar and she's fifteen years old," I start off. "This is her eleventh foster home in the past four years and I want her to feel safe here."
"She's been through a lot," says Stef. "And she should be here any minute now so please behave. I expect you guys to treat her with respect, dignity, but most of all, kindness. You all know how scary it can be moving to a new foster home. I want you guys to be her friends and show her around Anchor Beach. Remind her that she isn't alone."
Just as Stef completes her sentence we hear a knock on the door. Everybody's heads shoot up in anticipation as Stef and I make our way towards the door. I open it gently, and on the other side is a beautiful Latina girl and a tall thin woman with red hair and dark brown eyes.
"Hello," the woman says while shaking both of our hands. "My name is Samantha Yandell, we spoke together on the phone?"
"Don't worry, we know who you are," I say respectfully. "And I'm guessing you're the famous Selena I've heard so many great things about?"
Instead of speaking she nods her head nervously. Her hair is long and dark, and her eyes are a pretty hazel mix. She's fairly tall for her age, maybe 5'6 or possibly 5'7. Her body is lean and her skin is dark. She has one dimple on the right side of her face and a sweet smile that could make anyone love her.
Stef and I invite both of them into our home and introduce them to our family, each of us taking in her bags and suit cases. We set them down and I start calling names.
"This is Brandon, Jesus, Mariana, Callie, and Jude. We adopted Mariana and Jesus when they were kids, Jude not too long ago, and we're still trying to adopt Callie. Brandon is my partner's biological son. Everybody else, this is Selena."
"Nice to meet you all," Selena squeaks out shyly.
We leave Selena alone with the other kids while we discuss her with Samantha. Hopefully they'll do what they're told and treat her politely.
"She's only fifteen years old, but that girl's been through more things than anyone her age should ever have to experience," Samantha says once we're away from everyone else.
She later goes on to explain Selena's life story, starting from her mother's death, to her father's constant abuse, and ending at the death of her most recent foster family.
"Dear god, that's terrible," I mutter.
"I know, but she's a strong kid, she knows how to fight. I'll be checking in on her every once and a while, maybe once a month or so. As prior foster parents, I'm sure you know all the requirements, right?"
"Yes, we are aware," Stef responds.
Just as Samantha's about to leave, Selena runs to her and engulfs her in a big hug. She begs and pleads with Samantha not to forget about her. She promises she'll visit her monthly before waving good bye and driving away.
Selena steps off the porch and back into the house after Samantha's car is out of sight. She's holding back tears, but she excuses herself and asks where the bathroom is before a single one can escape. Jesus leads her to the down stairs bathroom and she hides away in there for over ten minutes.
When she returns, all the kids are exceptionally nice to her. After two hours she starts to become more comfortable. She even begins to smile and laugh. Hopefully she'll realize the Foster home isn't fast to give up on troubled souls.
End of the first chapter, I hope you guys enjoyed it! What do you think of Selena so far? Will she love her new foster home, or will it turn sour, like everything else in her life? Remember to review or favorite or whatever you like c:
PS: Some characters were inspired by people I know in real life (:
Update coming sometime tonight or tomorrow, and remember to watch the new episode of the Fosters!
~The OG Judicorn