I start to unpack my stuff out of the black bin bag it travelled in. This room is looking more and more like my room, it's always the same everywhere I stay. Everything in the room has an exact place. The bed needs to be against the window, and, luckily for me, it already is in this room. The only thing that's wrong is the chest of drawers. They need to be against the wall on the left of the door. I start to push against the wood of the drawers. It's heavier than I thought it would be. I've got it half way across the room when there's a knock at the door. I abandon the chest drawers to open it, expecting Mike or even the women from dinner. It's not, "Hi," he looks around the room, "Need a hand?" I blow upwards in frustration then nod. I'm not that strong, by myself it will take a decade to get this piece of furniture in the right place. He pushes it for me while I unpack the rest of my stuff, except the clothes because they need to go in the chest of drawers. When it's in the exact place I want it I smile, "Thank you..." I start to say then realise that I actually don't know his name, "...Rick," he says as a prompt,
"Thank you, Rick," I guess he's not planning on leaving in much of a hurry because he sits down at the end of the bed and looks around the room, "Why do I get the feeling your room will always look like this?" He chuckles lightly. I sigh and look around the room which now looks familiar, except for the colour which I might just have to deal with, "I like things to stay the same. It's hard, when I move,"
"Why do you move? I thought social workers don't want to move kids who are settled,"
"I wasn't settled. Max says this is my last home before they..."
"Before what? And who's Max?" I stand up and wrap my arms over my chest. Why am I telling him all this? I don't open up and tell people about my life. Like ever, "Go," I say quietly,
"Fine," he says without even protesting, "I get it if you're scared, you know," I shake my head,
"I don't do scared,"
It doesn't bother me that I've just been rude to the only person who was willing to be nice to me, why would it? I don't care about him and if he cares about me at all then he's got a problem. I sit, cross-legged, on the bed and look around my room. I have stuck my three posters up on one wall, all of the Beatles, which is my favourite band. I don't know why I like their music so much, I just do. I like The Fray and Coldplay too, but when I looked I couldn't find any posters of them. The chest of drawers, now in the right place, has my mirror hung on the wall behind it and on top is my purple lava lamp and a cardboard shoe box I've had since I was little. It's filled to the brim with photos and short letters from my brother. He's dyslexic so I don't expect much, but I still treasure every single letter he wrote to me because, for him, a letter is a big deal. My brothers 7 and lives further south in a different care home. Max said it would be better if we didn't leave together and, though I don't agree with him, I see where he's coming from. I used to get into a lot of fights when I lived with Adam, my brother. People used to pick on him because he was small and dyslexic and he couldn't stand up for himself. So I'd punch people and get in big trouble. Especially when...No I don't have to think about that, Max said. I miss Adam, a lot. More than I thought I would. I miss us looking out for each other. I miss the annoying way he laughs and the way he can't sleep at night. I hope he's ok now. He always used to get nightmares, it was better when I was there with him. I really hope he has someone nice looking out for him now. Or maybe he's been fostered. I hope so, he deserves it.
The rest of my room is near enough perfect too. My white fur rug is on the floor just in front of my bed so when I get out of bed it's the first thing I step on. My clothes are folded neatly and put into the three drawers of the chest of drawers. I keep my pyjamas on my bed. They are just a plain white tank top and blue tartan-style shorts. I fiddle with bits of ribbon on the shorts before getting up and dialling Max's number. He picks up on the second ring, "Zara? Is everything ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, I was just wondering..."
"Yes?"
"Do you know where my brother is?"
"Of course I do, Zara. Why? Do you want to see him?" He asks. I nod, even though we're on the phone and he can't see me, "Yes," my voice catches slightly at the end and that's when I realise that I'm crying. What if he doesn't even remember me? He was 7, but that was over two years ago. He'll be about ten now, "Ok. I'll come to Ashdene Ridge tomorrow and we'll try and sort something out, yeah?"
"Yeah," I sigh slightly then add as an afterthought, "Thanks Max,"
"It's my job," he laughs. I smile slightly then hang up the phone before placing it on my side table next to my bed. No sooner than I do that there's a feeble tap at the door, "Yes?" I ask impatiently as the door creaks open and Tee comes in, "I just wanted to say sorry for...you know what Johnny said,"
"There, you've said it," I pick my phone back up and am about to start playing again when I put it down again, "What's the deal with you and Johnny, anyway?" Tee turns around and blinks at me in surprise,
"What do you mean?"
"You seem to, well, like each other,"
"He's my brother," she says, rolling her eyes slightly. I look down at my hands and notice I'm wringing them. Everything makes a little more sense than it did before. Johnny lashed out at me before because I was rude to his sister, like I used to for Adam. Except Tee looks like she can look after herself and I didn't exactly hurt her. I just said I didn't care about what she had to say. I think Johnny might have a few anger issues. Tee isn't here anymore. I hardly noticed her slip out of my room, closing the door gently behind her. I poke my head around my door and look down the hall. My room is right at the end of the corridor so I can almost see everybody's rooms, but she's not there. I bet she's downstairs or maybe in her room. I don't know which is hers. I don't want to know. I decide to get changed into my pyjamas and go to bed. After all, I've got a big day tomorrow. Mike said he would talk to me about my new school and Max is coming to try and arrange something for me and Adam. Adam...I hope he hasn't changed, much. I hope he still has soft red hair and light freckles over his nose. I hope his blue eyes still sparkle whenever I tell him something he didn't already know. I hope he's how he used to be at least. I pull my tank top over my head thinking about this and thinking about what he'll be like if he's changed. I'm still thinking about it as I brush my long black hair out and pull it into a messy bun. Probably messier than it should be, but who cares I'm going to sleep. It's only about half 8, though, which is way too early to sleep. Maybe I could lie in bed and read more of 'My sister lives on the mantelpiece'. I'm only about halfway through it, but it's already made me cry multiple times. It's all about 9/11 and the 7/7 bombings. How a little boy's sister died in them and how his dad can't stand Muslims. I almost don't want the book to end it's just so...it's just so. I curl up in the bed, cold from the lack of anyone sleeping in it, and start to read.