Charlie's Angels
long time, no see.
I psyched myself for what I was about to do as I gazed out over Los Angeles from my foster parents flat. The city looked mysterious in the dark of the night, and almost unnerving. But I had to go, I had to leave my foster parents behind to go find my sister. It not like I was leaving much behind anyway. The closest my foster family got to loving me was was giving me the left overs. The only thing that kept me going here was by job. I worked for Mr Careli any time I could, he owns a small grocery store in town. With the money I earned from that, I would by myself dinner and any spare money I'd save up. Now, I was about to spend my saving to try and reach my sister, Dylan. For all I knew, she might might not even be in L.A, but last time we spoke she was. About 4 years ago, my birth parents were reported to be doing drugs. Once the police had them locked up, social services got involved and we ended up in a foster home. I remember being so afraid when they took us there, I held onto my sister the whole way, knowing there's a chance they'd separate us. And they did. About 2 months later, a family came through looking to adopt Dylan, but not me. At first Dylan refused to leave me behind, but I made her go, pinky promising that one day I'd find her again. After some kicking, screaming, crying and forcing, I was left by myself in the dingy foster home. I was only 12, so the bigger kids did try and take advantage of me, and at first I let them but it wasn't long before I toughened up and gave a few kids black eyes. After that, hardly anyone hassled me, and away a few months a family came through for me. Though I wasn't so lucky, my foster family were a pair of old fashioned, middle aged hobos! It surprised me that these doosh bags even owned a home, by their dirty, shabby clothing and lack of manors or emotions. But what the hell, I went with it and it wasn't long until I learned to fend for myself in my new home and at school. I wasn't allowed to contact Dylan after that, the foster home refused to give away any addresses or numbers because they claimed it wasn't safe due to our family's crime backgrounds.
So now, I'm 16 years old and living a shitty life in down town Los Angeles. I've managed to save $546, but whether it will be enough, I'm unsure. I have no where I'm heading or where to look. My only tools are google maps and general knowledge. Oh and some kind of card which I found in some of Dylan's stuff she left for me...
Charlie Townsend
0800-375-4762
I put the card in the back pocket of my jeans, grabbed my backpack and slowly and quietly slid open my room window. I was suddenly filed with adrenalin as I flipped the hood of my hoodie up and swung my legs over the side of the window. Luckily, we were only a floor up, so the jump wasn't too high. I looked once more at my bedroom, then at the scribbled parer on my pillow . Although they'd not exactly been nice people, I though I owed my foster parents some kind of note. After-all, they had put a roof over my head for 4 years. .
Fred and Vicky,
Thanks for everything.
Tyler..
With a grin, I leaped from my window and landed softly on the grass below. The night sky surrounded me now, as I made my down the dark streets toward the nearest phone-box. As I got inside, I pulled out the card and dialled the numbers. It started to ring, and eventually a male voice answered.
"Hello?" I froze for a second, had I half expected my sister to answer? I racked my brain for some kind of response. "Uhh..." was all I could find. What was I getting myself into?
