Okay...This pudding twix is on the phone helping cause Technology hates me ...This is our first story. We do not own YYH only our OC Please review... This chapter is actually called DEAL
Waking up as the sun's bright cheerful rays of sunlight peek through the boards of an old boarded up window, I let out a frustrated growl. Today is check-in-day and I despise check-in-day with a passion.
My name is Suri. Just Suri no middle name, no last name, and I like it that way. I am fifteen and stand at the impressive height of 4ft and 7 1/2 inches. I'm taking that half an inch. My dirt brown hair lies straight and limp on my head in a cute bob haircut with bangs that are normally slanted to the right. My best feature are my eyes they are an unnerving shade of blue that looks like it's exploding to the outer edges where the color turns black. Looking at me most people would say I fit into the stereo type of 'The Cute, Shy Girl.' At least they think this until I open my mouth.
Sitting up I stretch and look around at the room I took refuge in last night. As I take in the rather small area, the dust, the cracking walls and falling ceiling plaster. I got to say this is better than the last place I crashed at. The last place had rats. Not little mice that people feel bad for when they get caught in the mouse traps. These things were huge rats that looked like they would just laugh if they ever saw a mouse trap. I mean these things were the size of a full grown dachshund. I shuddered just thinking about them. I didn't get any sleep that night cause I thought they might attack and eat out my internal organs if I took my eyes off them.
Standing, I walk over to my backpack and pull out some decent looking clothes and begin to change. One of the requirements for Check-In-Day is that you must look decent and healthy. Sighing, I start packing all my supplies: blankets, etc. into by backpack. Everything goes in pretty easily because my backpack isn't very normal. It has an extension spell on it so while it may look small on the outside I can fit about three suitcases on the inside. For most, the thought of an extension spell might seem impossible. For me, it is a way of life because I'm a magician, but instead of magic tricks I can do real magic.
I guess I'm really a witch because I use spells, but I hate being called a witch. When you think of witch you think ugly old hag with a wart on her nose riding on a broom. I'm no old hag and don't plan on becoming one in the future and so far I have no warts.
When I was little, I read the Harry Potter books and those were the closest thing that I found and could relate with to the things that I do. I have to say most of the spells from the books never work. I have managed to steal some from them, but I also tried flying on a broom… That was an epic fail. I almost got sent to a mental hospital by the police ...apparently you're not supposed to stand on top of a building in the middle of Tokyo City cursing Hogwarts for not sending you an acceptance letter while trying to use the broom you "borrowed" from a local convince store to fly to the school to demand an explanation.
When I use magic it gets a little confusing because I never know what is possible and what isn't. I'm able to make the inside of a bag carry three times its normal capacity. I can make myself turn invisible, unlock any lock known to man, and make charms to hide injuries or flaws. The last helps a lot when you have a breakout or are black and blue from a fight before. I can do other things, but I can't heal myself or other people, I can't fly, I don't have super strength, and from what I have tested out there are no spells that will hurt or kill people. It just makes you look like a psychopath standing in front of someone with a stick shouting curses from Harry Potter at them.
Glancing at my watch, I groan when I see the digital numbers blinking 9:15 am. I only have another fifteen minutes to make it across town to my "home" before the social worker gets there for the monthly check up. This is yet another reason why I hate Check-In-Days. Last time I was late the foster family I was with through a fit. They were yelling that a demon like me would only ruin the family name and how selfish it was of me not to take that into account. Then they told my last social worker that they were tired of me and that I was no longer allowed in their home. That was two months ago. Now as I think back on it, the incident was kind of a blessing in disguise because not only did I get away from that melodramatic family, but I also got to move away from Tokyo City.
Now I'm living ...well... I don't really know the area or the name that well, but I know this city is a lot smaller and more fun. Slipping from the abandon building, I start running through alley ways trying to find the shortest way back. I glance down and see I have eight minutes left. I'm gonna make it in time. Smiling, I do a little victory dance in my new foster home consists of one other person named David. When I first met him he seemed like a normal everyday guy, but I could tell that something was hiding right under the surface. Later I found out that David was a junkie. A violent one too, and an extremely good liar.
Last month I found out how good a liar he is. I didn't meet my new social worker cause David came back the day before, high on something and decided it would be fun to use me as a punching bag. So, he calls the social worker up and tells her how sorry he is and that he knows he's supposed to protect me, but he had to work late the night before and I snuck out to go hang out with the neighborhood gang and that I got into a fight and came back with so many injuries that he had to take me to the hospital. Then he asked her real nice like if she can reschedule for the next day. She tells him that it's fine and she can already tell what a caring father he is and that she'll just do the check up next month. He said thank you ma'am and hung up. He looked at me and smirked then said that he had places to be and that I should be gone by the time he got back. Then he just leaves the apartment. I left soon after he did.
I was watching him on the phone the whole time. To say I was amazed would have been an understatement. He had no tells even on the phone and I was starting to believe him. Turning a corner, I arrive at the building checking my watch, I still have five minutes. The apartment is on the third floor and I'm taking the stairs… Yep I so got this.
Dashing up the stairs I start to wonder if the social worker is a punctual penny pecker, one of those people that arrive on time the exact moment they plan or if she will be a few minutes late. Crap, I hope she isn't one of those people who arrive a few minutes early. With that thought I speed up my pace. Arriving at the door, I check my watch. I have two minutes left. Not bothering to knock, I let myself in to a mentally disturbing sight.
In the kitchen is my abusive foster father making what appears to be….pancakes and bacon? When he hears the door shut he turns towards me and smirks at the look of shock on my face.
"Cutting it a bit close don't you think? What would I tell the social worker if you weren't here when she came to check up on you?" He asked still smiling. He looks so pleasant and kind. I start to wonder if maybe he has multiple personalities and needs medication.
"You can always say I spent the night at a friend's house." I say after a pause. "Ummmm ... Can I ask a question?"
"Spent the night with a friend…. not a bad excuse and go ahead." he says while flipping a pancake.
"Okay thanks." Pulling out a seat at the small kitchen table I calmly sit down. I gesture at him cooking and ask, "What the hell?"
"We have got to work on your language sweetie." He says jokingly. Then he sees my raised eyebrows and the 'You've got to be kidding me expression' and sighs.
"Okay here's the deal. You and I both know I don't want to take care of a kid. The only reason I'm doing it is so I can get a check from the government every month." Glancing at me, I nod my head. This isn't the first time a foster home just wanted the money.
He continues, "You're not too bad. I mean you haven't ratted me out yet for the beatings and I have done that like three times. Also, this last month you stayed away like I told you to. Honestly, I wasn't expecting you to show up. I just decided to make it look like we were having breakfast and I sent you to the store for something. I was gonna use that as an excuse if the lady showed up while you were gone. But now that you're here I have a proposition for you."
Raising my eyebrows and nodding, I gesture for him to continue. "Okay I've been thinking the only reason you don't rat me out is cause there are no more fosters willing to take you and if you leave here you're going straight to a girls home. Right?"
Narrowing my eyes, I nod my head "That's right. How did you know that?"
Smirking he says "I asked about you when you first got here. The more I know about you, the easier it is to use you. But anyway back to the proposition. I'm gonna say this… I like drugs, the rush they give me, and how strong they make me feel. I think you know this too." Again I nod my head.
"Okay you've learned that I'm not really nice when I'm high, but you can't say anything because of the whole girls home thing, you also can't live on your own legally till your eighteen and that ain't for another four years. So I'm suggesting this.
"Every month you do not stay here. Like not in this house. Do what you have been doing, whatever that may be, and make your own cash, find your own place to sleep, etc. Just come in once a month whenever the lady comes and act like we get along. If you do stay in the house ...well you know what will happen. What do you think?"
Thinking it over I ask, "So you get the extra money each month and I get to use your address for my own purposes? All I have to do is show up for Check-In-Days and act happy? I get to run the streets and do whatever I want?"
"That's right. Just don't hang out here. So what do you say? Is it a deal?" He asks holding out his hand.
Grinning I shake his hand "Deal."
And just like that there was a knock at the door. Dropping my hand he grins saying, "I got it sweetie, go ahead and fix you a plate." Smiling sweetly, I say, "Okay Davey."
Shooting me a glare he opens the door to the new social worker.
"Hello. I'm Shiori Minamino."
