I was staring through the car window, thinking about my new life. The sky was dark and I could see that it was gonna rain soon. The taxi driver stopped in a front of a white house, turned around and looked at me. Sighing, I gave him his money and opened the door. There it was… my new home. I looked down and saw my black high heels. I heard the taxi driver getting out of the car and getting my luggage. I was about to thank him when I heard someone shouting: "She's here!".

I turned to see a woman coming my way. This must be Mrs. Curtis, my mother's sister. I know that its sound weird to say Mrs. Curtis instead of my aunt, but my mom wasn't really my mom. Also, I hadn't seen her in a very long time.

My father, Jean, a French Canadian, met my mother, Annie, during World War II. He was a soldier and she was a nurse. They fell in love when she nursed him after he was wounded in Britain. As soon as the war ended, they got married in London and came back to live in Montreal (Quebec, Canada). However, their bliss was short: my mother died while giving birth to me. Being an orphan himself, my father couldn't find the courage to put me in an orphanage and choose to raise me. Luckily for me, my father loved me very much and I never felt any resentment from his part. He even gave me a picture to remember her and I keep it in my hat box.

All his life, my father had two passions: horses and rodeos. Being a single parent didn't stop him from doing rodeos: he was traveling with me all around Canada and the USA's. Nothing could make him settle down, even his little princess, until he met Sarah, the woman who I think of as my mother. They told me it was love at first sight and, my father, always so prompt in his decisions, proposed to her pretty fast. They got married only 2 months after they met.

After their wedding, we lived in Tulsa 4 years before he got an offer to work in Montreal, for the Blue Bonnets Raceway. It was a good position and my father thought it would be good for me to get in touch with my roots. So, we moved back to Montreal when I was 6 years old. Once there, we never came back, even for a single trip. It must have been hard for Sarah, but I never heard her complain. I don't know if we could say that we were happy but our life wasn't so ball, all things considered, until two weeks ago…

My father, Sarah and I were on our way home from Sainte-Tite, a village where we went to see a promising horse. It was snowing real bad and, even if it's not unusual to have snow at the end of October, we didn't expect a full snow storm. My father lost control of the car in a curb and we hit a tree. I can only remember the sound of my mother screaming before I blacked out.

I was wake up by the sound of the windshield whippers and a faint voice calling to me. A man was talking to me, but I didn't understand what he was saying. I could sense something bad happened but couldn't remember what. I looked around and saw that I was in an ambulance. I was brought to the nearest hospital, alone. They wouldn't answer my questions until the day after, when they thought I could handle it. I was the only survivor. I could feel my world turning upside down. On top of this, the social services came to see me: my closest kin alive were in Tulsa. If they wanted me, I could move there. However, since they were in no obligation to take me in, I could end up in an orphanage. Luckily for me, they agreed and that's how I am back in Tulsa, on the porch of my new home.

I could feel my eyes get teary just thinking about the last week but I didn't want to cry in front of the taxi driver. I repeat to myself that I was a big girl and I closed the door, just in time for Mrs. Curtis to embrace me.

- Marianne, welcome back, I wish it could be under better circumstances. Everything went fine on your way here?

- Yes, ma'am.

- Come on, just call me Shirley.

She then pointed at my luggage's and asked: "Everything is there?"

- Yes, ma'am… Shirley.

- Don't worry about them, your uncle will pick them up, just follow me.

I looked at the porch and I saw a tall and muscular man coming from the house, followed by three guys. They had to be my "cousins". I didn't reminder them much, but I had seen pictures of them. The oldest son, Darry, really looked like my uncle, but in a younger version. He had dark hair, just like him, and was as muscular as my uncle. Sodapop was the golden boy: handsome, with dark gold hair and dark eyes, he was almost too perfect. He looked more like Shirley, but in a (fine) masculine way. I am pretty sure girls were fawning over him. Finally, Ponyboy, the youngest brother, was smaller with light-brown almost red hair. He was also a fine looking guy.

I started to walk over the house and I could feel the three of them looking at me and I start to feel conscious about my look. It was almost intimidating, but I chastise myself: it was normal for them to be curious about me. Plus, buried in the back of my head, I knew pretty well that I wasn't bad looking myself: I had straight black hairs, my skin had a nice ivory complexion and I have light blues eyes. My eyes were always the "thing" that I love most about me: they have a nice almond shape, thanks to my native descendant. I could also thank them for my straight black hair.

I straightened my self and followed into the house. I think it was the most excruciating moment of my life. I was a nervous wreck but I tried really hard to hide it. I didn't know what to think about their stare. Were they worried about me? Were they okay with the fact that I was coming to live with them? Were they already thinking the money burden I would be?

I could feel a big knot in my stomach and tears coming to my eyes. I nodded to them on my way inside, my jaw clenched. I tried to relax and push away my fears. Everything would be fine… Grabbing my courage with two hands, I followed Shirley upstairs.

xxxxxxxxx

Shirley showed me my room and left, understanding that I need some time alone. The room was small, but functional. On my left, the room was smaller, since the wardrobe was there. There was a single bed, in the corner of the room, a bed table, under a small window, and a desk, on my right. I went to the bed and sit. The room was clean and I could still smell the odor of the fresh laundry. Shirley made sure everything was clean and ready for me. I smile sadly at this when someone knock on the door.

- Come on in!

Darry entered in my room with some of my luggage. He was carrying them like it was weighing nothing and I noticed that he had most of my things with him. I couldn't help myself but laugh a little bit. He flushed but stands still, waiting. We were looking at each other and I could almost feel the awkwardness grow in the room.

- So... where do you want them?, he asked abruptly.

- Oh yeah, right! Just put them between the bed and the wardrobe, I'll unpack them right away.

He dropped my stuff where I said and left, in a hurry, telling me that he was coming back with the last ones. I eyed my mom's hat box and opened it. Inside, it was all her memories: letters from her sister and all kind of pictures. I spotted one letter and opened it. It was the last one that my mom received from Shirley. Inside, there was a picture of Shirley, Darrel (my uncle) and the three boys: Ponyboy, Sodapop and Darry. Darrel was looking to the camera and Shirley was looking at him. Just beside her was Darry. Behind them, there was Sodapop and Ponyboy, who was more on the left of the picture. It was a nice picture, they looked so happy.

I put the letter back in the box and took one framed picture of my dad and mom. It was their wedding picture and they were radiating with happiness. I decided to put it on the bed table, so I could see them all the time. I was so concentrated that I didn't hear Darry coming back in my room. I turned around and jump, surprise to see someone staring at me. It was my turn to blush and I could feel the heat coming from my face. I thanked him almost inaudibly and he took this as an opportunity to leave my room.

I went back to unpacking my stuff and I was almost done when Sodapop knock on the frame door.

- Hey, my mom wants to know if you're settling okay.

- Yes, I guess I am fine…

- Also, are you hungry?

As he said that, my stomach made some noises. Even if I hadn't noticed the time passed by, my body just reminded me that I hadn't eat since my connection flight in New York. "I could eat" was the only answer I came up with. It didn't seem to bother him since he continued.

- My mom made a fest in your honor and even the gang is here to welcome you.

- The gang?

- You'll see!