Deirdre walked through the jungle. She'd never really been out here before except to find a place to pee. And in the first couple of weeks when she'd wanted to explore. But the jungle had gotten old. It was just a bunch of trees and dirt. Not that the beach was any different. It was just a bunch of sand and water. What a boring trip this had turned out to be.
But today, Deirdre wasn't just aimlessly wandering. No, she was looking for something. Someone, actually. She wanted to find that bald dude that Boone came out here with. They had to be around here somewhere. She'd been following their footprints for a while now, but she'd lost their trail a few minutes ago when they went by a patch of trees.
Deirdre rolled her eyes as she realized what was going on. That creepy guy was testing her, seeing if she could find him. She knew what they'd done. They'd backtracked, and now they were following her. How brilliant.
Deirdre casually walked behind a tree, pretending she was still looking for them. As soon as she was pretty much out of sight, she stealthily climbed the tree so she was directly above the path. It was a trick she'd learned while she was living with that one family who went camping every weekend. Deirdre held back from laughing as Boone and the old guy walked right under her, following her footprints. As soon as the two had gone past her branch, she rolled herself off the branch and landed on her feet. Just like a cat.
"Would've been a great plan if you hadn't tried it on me," she said once she was upright. Boone whirled around, completely shocked that she'd discovered them. The other guy just slowly turned back, not surprised in the slightest.
"Nice trick, Sidra," he said. She caught her breath until she realized that he must have seen the flight manifest.
"It's Deirdre, by the way," she said, regaining her composure. She kept her eyes on the old guy. He was old, but he was shifty. Always casting that all-knowing glance in everyone's directions.
"'Course it is," he said. There it was. That glint in his eye that said he knew more than he was letting on.
"I want to help you with…whatever you've been doing out here," Deirdre said. She'd decided this after she'd seen them come out here. She really had nothing else to do except rub off on Sassy and sit on her butt all day. She was not going to come out of this deserted island thing actually gaining weight.
"You want to help us? You didn't even want to help me carry the bulkhead this morning," Boone said, aggravated.
"Yeah, well, things change, Robin," Deirdre said, referring to how he always followed Batman, here, around like his sidekick.
"It's alright, Boone. I think we could use some good help. This girl was able to beat us at our own game," Batman said.
"Locke-" Boone started, but stopped at the look from his master. So, Locke was his name.
"Well, Locke," she said, emphasizing his name, "are you in or out?"
"That depends. Are you in?" he asked. What the heck was he talking about? This dude had some bad mojo going on.
"Of course I'm in. I found you, didn't I?" she said, getting irritated with this guy's riddles.
"You certainly did. Feel free to come with us," Locke said, walking away. Boone cast a dirty look in her direction and walked off after his idol.
"Like I haven't seen that before," Deirdre muttered to herself as she slowly followed them. She didn't want to appear overzealous, though she'd probably accomplished that when she'd spent an hour tracking them down in the jungle. Oh, what the heck, she thought to herself, this could be fun. If anything, it'll keep me active.

A ten year old Sidra sat on the curb outside of her newest residence in New York. It was dark out, and it looked like it was about to rain. She'd moved here five months ago after her adoptive parents had been arrested for selling drugs. It was a "nice" neighborhood, as her social worker had said.
Brenda, as she called herself now, didn't really care that the neighborhood was nice. She just cared that she got a chance to eat something. She didn't really give a care if these people liked her. Oh, they were nice people, but she just didn't like them.
At first, she'd tried to do well. Maybe if I'm good enough, they'll like me, and they'll want to keep me. All she had really wanted then was for someone to want her. Someone to love her. But she was just a way for them to get money. They'd made sure that any of the estate she'd inherited when her parents were killed – murdered – went into their bank accounts. So much for being loved.
Now, Brenda just wanted to get away. Wanted to be free of this stupid system. She wanted to be on her own. To be strong and independent. To find the person who'd murdered her parents and taken away her life.
So, here she was on the street outside of her "home," waiting for the bus that stopped there every night at nine. She had enough money. Well, she'd stolen it from her foster parents' sock drawer. But it was rightfully hers, anyway. She'd inherited it, and they'd "hidden it for safekeeping."
"Brenda!" an angry voice shouted across the lawn. Brenda looked down the street, hoping the bus would be turning the corner soon. It didn't.
"Brenda, you answer me this instant! Don't you ignore me!" her foster mom shouted as she closed the distance between them. Brenda turned around bravely to face the epitome of anger.
"Get in the house right now!" Brenda's foster mom yelled. Brenda got up to go inside, but she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"And just what is this? Knowing you I wouldn't be surprised if it was-" she stopped as she looked inside the bag and saw a few changes of clothes, a diary, and all of Brenda's inheritance money. "That's it, you little thief. You're leaving first thing in the morning." And just like that, Brenda was shipped off to another house.

Brenda arrived at her new family's house in Kansas within a week. It was a nice, country house complete with a corn field and barn. Did they seriously have horses? Wow. Way out in the booneys for her. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
"Oh, Sidra! It's so good to have you here!" an overweight woman wearing faded jeans and an out-of-date t-shirt said, engulfing her in a big hug.
"I liked to be called Brit," she said. She'd chosen that name during the plane ride. She'd heard that it meant "strong." She'd always wanted to be strong. Brit wanted to be nice to this woman. Warm up to her and her new family, but she just couldn't. She didn't want it to end up like last time. Or the time before that. She'd wanted to be a member of the family, but they'd shunned her. Or it could wind up like the time before that. She'd loved her parents, and they'd loved her more than anything else in the world. But they were dead.
"Brit? Oh, well, that's a beautiful name. Why don't you come inside? We've got your room all ready. We're all very excited," the woman said. Brit smiled. Maybe Kansas wouldn't be so bad after all.
The Henderson family, as they were called, consisted of the parents, Norma and John, and their children, Billy, Weston, Charlene, Emily, and Ben, three of which were adopted. They had a wonderful house with a room for each child and a cellar connecting to the kitchen. And yes, they did have horses in their barn! This was the best place she'd ever stayed in, aside from her parents' house.
Then, six months later, disaster struck. Kansas, being a proud member of Tornado Alley, had frequent tornadoes every few months. Sometimes every few weeks or days. Brit had gotten through her first couple of tornadoes just fine. Go down into the cellar and wait it out. But it was that last tornado that did the most damage.
It swept through like any other twister until it decided it actually wanted to do some damage. It collided with the Henderson barn, tore up every single ear of corn, and even sliced off a part of their house. Yes, it was a true tragedy. One that not even Norma Henderson herself could fully recover from.
"Darling, Brit. You know how much money we lost in the twister, right?" Norma asked Brit one day. Brit nodded, wondering what that had to do with her. Did she have to give up her allowance? Because she would if she had to.
"Well, we just can't afford to house all of our foster children anymore. And, I'm sorry, but there's a wonderful family in Maine that's been looking for a wonderful girl just like you.
"And we know they'll be good to you, and they have lots of money to help you out with. I'm sorry, Brit, but we have to let you go," Norma finished. Brit just stared at her foster mother. Was this really happening? Not again! She'd been so happy with them. Why did she always get everything taken away from her?
Brit and everyone else in the Henderson family cried as a social services worker lead her out the door and to a shiny black car. On to a new family. A new state. A new home. A new life.