After Daddy died in Afghanistan, Mama told me that she was the only family I needed. And she was; the rest of her family was dead. But that before she died in a housefire.
For the past few months, I'd been bounced from foster home to foster home while social services try to track down any of Daddy's relatives. Just the other day, Mrs Kendell, the woman in charge of the home had gotten a phone call. Apparently, Daddy had a half sister May who lived in New York; I was going to live with her and my cousin Peter.
Now, I sat on the front porch, waiting for the social worker to come and pick me up. Everything I had except the clothes on my back, a photo album, my phone, and a few pieces of jewelry had been destroyed in the fire. Well, there was a purple book bag with a spare set of clothes and tolietries.
"I assume you're Rosemarie Parker?" A middle aged woman with curly brown hair and big blue eyes stood in front of me.
"Yes, ma'am," I stood.
"The car is unlocked," Miss Dean said. "I'll be a only be a few minutes."
Miss Dean's car was a blue four door mustang. The passenger seat had a box filled with snacks so I climbed into the back, sitting my bag on next to me.
I sighed, New York was 15 hours away, this was going to be a long trip.
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