"Let's get this over with," I say to Max in a bored tone. He shrugs slightly and picks up my things, bringing them into the large house in front of us. No, not house. It's more of a mansion. I stuff my hands in my pockets and follow him, my dark shades covering my green eyes. I'm wearing a plum coloured tank top with white shorts and purple to white tye-dye converses. For once my light copper skin looks almost perfect under the afternoon sun. I walk through the oak door and, unsurprisingly to me, there's a bunch of people waiting by the door, probably trying to catch a glimpse of 'the new kid'. It's the same everywhere I've been, "Hi, Max. Let's get this paperwork over with shall we?" An man, much older than Max who's my newly qualified social worker, says clapping his hands together. I blink, trying to work out his accent. I only get it when he says, "Guys, this is Zara. Be nice," Irish. Makes a change, I suppose,

"Hi, Zara, I'm-" a young girl starts. From head to toe she's wearing blue and her blonde hair is tied in a loose fishtail braid. She must be, what, 11 or 12? "I don't really care," I interrupt her mid-sentence. She stops, but her mouth stays open in a small 'O' shape. I push her jaw up gently with my index finger, "You'll catch flies," I'm being confrontational, I know. I mean to be. Everywhere I go I have to do this, to show them who's in charge because it has to be me. It has to be me or I know I'll get bullied like I did in the first home. It's so much easier to be the one who pushes people away rather than the person who gets pushed away, "Don't talk to her like that," A brunette boy, also wearing blue from head to toe says through gritted teeth, "Who's going to stop me?" I ask then smirk slightly, looking him up and down, "You?" He lunges towards me and grabs my straightened black hair with one fist. Woah. I can safely say I was not expecting that, "Johnny, stop!" I hear someone else say, not the care worker from before but someone else. One of the kids here. In self defence, I kick, the sole of my converse coming into contact with Johnny's chest then he falls to the floor, bringing an alarming amount of my hair with him. I stand there, just looking at him, speechless. He's lying on the floor, breathless, but not dead at least. I breath out a sigh of relief, "Are you ok, Johnny?" The same girl I was rude to asks. Johnny looks around him, slightly confused, then takes the girls waiting hand and pulls himself up. He brushes himself down then turns to me, "You're crazy,"

"Johnny-"

"No, leave it Tee, she shouldn't be here. She's dangerous," he spits at me. I kick at the carpet with the toe of my shoe then laugh slightly, "I must have a really bad memory," I glance at the others, waiting for what I'm going to say, "Because I remember things a bit differently. In my version of things you lashed out at me first," I say with the emphasis on 'you', a smile playing on my lips and Johnny struggles to think of something to say, "You kicked me!" Lame. Lame comeback coming from a lame person's mouth,

"Self defense," I shrug then pick up my bin bag of stuff and carry it into the office, which is on the right, "Have you finished?" I ask, in my best 'I'm a really nice and polite girl' voice, "Nearly, Zara," Max smiles then signs at the bottom of a piece of paper that's part of a big stack, "There, now we're finished. Zara this is Mike, the head care worker here," Max gestures in Mike's direction. I nod slightly, "Don't you worry, Zara. Everyone here is really nice, I'm sure you'll fit in," Mike assures me. Oh I very much doubt it, I think, yet my mouth says something different, "I'm sure I will. Um, just out of interest, will I have my own room?" I silently cross my fingers under the table then relax when Mike smiles and nods, "Yes, there's one spare room here. You got here just in time,"

"I'm really glad to be here," I suck up to him as much as it is humanly possible to do. Mike smiles and nods, "Right well we're going to have to talk about your new school soon, but before that I believe dinner is ready," Right on cue I hear a female voice call from what I presume to be the kitchen, "Dinner is ready!" I almost laugh, it's such good timing,

"See ya, squirt," Max ruffles my hair a bit before leaving. I like Max. He's the first social worker to actually treat me like a human being. When I get in trouble, which is most days, he is strict and cross for a while then he can't help it anymore and just laughs at the stupid thing I've done, "Here, you go and get some lunch, I'll take your stuff up to your room," I let go of the bin bag as Mike takes it from me and leave the office obediently, "Just through there," Mike points in the direction of the kitchen, as he goes the other way. I put my dark shades back over my eyes. Here goes nothing.

I step through the open doorway into the kitchen where the others are already sitting down and eating. They all look like they are friends with each other. Weird. There's only one seat left, in between a small blonde boy and an older brunette one. I pull back the wooden chair and sit down. My plate is already there in front of me, filled with a portion of spaghetti bolognese. I twirl the fork around in the pasta, silent for once and not eating. It doesn't go unnoticed, "Not hungry?" The brunette boy beside me asks. I shake my head slowly, "You should eat something," he says, emphasising 'something'. I shake my head again, "You're not..." He starts but I interrupt him quickly, "No! And mind your own business!" I can almost feel my cheeks turn a light shade of pink,

"Zara?" I look up to see a woman, the other care worker, looking at me intently, "No sunglasses at the table," I hear a stifled snigger, probably from Johnny, but I don't care. That's a lot better than what I thought she was going to say. I push the shades to the top of my head so they're holding my fringe out of my face, "Did you know only 2% of people in the whole world have green eyes?" I look to my left to see the little blonde haired kid looking up at me. I shrug, "I don't care," His face falls as I turn back to picking at my spaghetti,

"You don't want that do you?" I hear the brunette boy whisper in my right ear. I shake my head, a lock of my black hair falling in my face. Without saying another word he picks up my plate and tips half of it's contents onto his. I look around at the table, but everyone's too engrossed in their own conversations to bother about what he's doing, "Why did you do that?" I ask him, confusion clear in my eyes. He shrugs his shoulders and starts eating his, well my, dinner. I give him a small smile, "I'm Zara,"

"I know," he laughs, putting another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, "You're rude as well," I cross my arms and let the hair fall in my face,

"I'm meant to be,"

"I know. I know what you're doing,"

"You do?" I bite on my bottom lip,

"I do," he nods,

"How?" I ask, twirling my fork in what's left of my spaghetti,

"Experience," He says quietly and calmly. I'm about to reply when I feel a sharp kick on my shin from across the table. I jerk my head up and see Johnny smirking at me. Wow what's his problem? "Why are you here then?" His voice isn't curious, it's harsh and taunting. I sit up straighter, ready for a fight if I need to be, "I bet your parents dumped you because you're so rude,"

"Actually, no," I smirk slightly,

"Oh yeah? What then?"

"They died," I'm not playing for sympathy. I say it calmly and to the point,

"Sorry," the boy I have been talking to all through dinner says,

"Don't be. I'm not,"

"You're sick," Johnny says, pulling a face. I raise one eyebrow, "You don't care that your parents died?" His voice raises and catches slightly at the end of his sentence. I shake my head slowly, "I didn't say that. I just don't want sympathy, is that bad?"

"Maybe you should care a bit more," he mutters under his breath. Not quite under enough because I hear him, "What? I do nothing but care about it. I just don't go on and on about my problems, because frankly? That gets boring," I say coolly then put down my knife and fork straight in the middle of my half empty plate, "I'm going,"