Daniel Howell
Just another kid in care who got shipped off to our family. Well, he was, as the social worker says. 'Brought to our family to be cared for'
Yeah right
Mum only fosters these kids because she feels sorry for them. Feels sorry that their own parents cant get off the drugs or drink to look after their own kids.
Daniel Howell
Just another boring kid in care
Or so I thought.
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I was only twelve when he came to us. He was the same age as me. A brown haired boy who seemed like any other kid that was brought to us. He stood beside his social worker.
Isabelle. She was a nice woman. Tall, blonde hair. Always the one to bring our family it's newest temporary member.
Mum invited them both in with a huge smile. Inviting Isabelle for their usual chat and cup of tea. You wouldn't believe they were technically talking business by the way they acted. They both always talked so casually. So freely. I couldn't understand how you could ever talk about what these kids had gone through so casually.
So there we were
Standing in the hallway together. I just stared at him, deciding whether to play the nice kid and try be-friend him or let the kid settle down a bit. He didn't even seem to notice me. To occupied by something he held in his hand. It looked like a small sparkly object. A ring, or maybe a necklace.
I didn't care to find out really. In the past I had always tried to find out everything I could about the people who came to stay with us. Yet now. I just really didn't want to.
Honestly, I was tired.
Tired of always having to be the good, nice little boy. The nice little boy who could never, ever have his own problems because his life was so perfect. You would think at twelve I had nothing to worry about, right?
Wrong
So wrong
Mum and dad were my main worry. Mum never had time for dad. Or for me for that matter. Dad drank all the time. He'd had his stomach pumped several times after id found him passed out of the floor in the morning. You know, the typical family crises. Id heard worse stories online and in magazines. But it was a big problem to me. A problem which was sort of small compared to everyone else's, but.
It was still a problem to me.
"Um, hey" I offered the boy in front of me a small smile. Just smile and act nicely. That's your job.
Your only job.
He didn't reply. Didn't even look up.
"Daniel, right?" I asked, trying again.
He looked up this time. A look in his eyes that immediately made me feel uncomfortable.
"Dan"
"...What?" I asked softly in my most polite voice.
"Dan. Don't you ever call me Daniel" he sort of growled. Id expected him to shout.
I wish he had
The way he spoke those words filled me with fear. How could this boy have this much of an effect on me by just muttering a few words.
"O-Okay…Dan"
"And you"
His eyes landed on me in an intent stare. It felt like his eyes were burning into my skin. Like he could see everything about me just by looking at me with those hard. dull eyes.
"Excuse me?" I asked quietly, adverting me eyes from him.
"Your name"
"Oh, right. I'm Phil"
I gingerly stuck out my hand to him. He just looked from my eyes to my hand and back.
"Whatever"
