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I was planning on updating this last night but I hadn't finished writing it :( I'm planning on updating this piece three times a week at least :)


Danny handed Harry a sloppy jam sandwich, it was cut unevenly down the middle and had finger prints all over it. Watching as the other three boys shoved their sandwiches into their mouths, it seemed that Tom had an understanding for table manners unlike the other two. If he had seen somebody at school eat like this then he probably would have laughed at them from a distance with his mates. But here - here was different, Harry felt like he couldn't immediately judge these kids because he knew that each of them would have a harsh story to tell. One that would make him give them those sympathetic eyes that he had seen from adults repeatedly since the crash.

But all the same, he didn't want to eat the sandwich.

Deciding to pick it apart, hoping that it would make it look slightly more appetizing, Harry ate the sandwich out of pure politeness. And praying that he didn't get some sort of disease from eating it because he had not seen Danny, Tom or Dougie wash their hands before eating or preparing the food.

"So, why are you here?" Dougie asked, his mouth full of food.

Harry looked at the floor, the terracotta coloured tiles suddenly becoming much more interesting than anything else in the room. Despite knowing that this question would be asked, Harry was hoping for it to come later rather than sooner. And though he had rehearsed what he was going to say countless amounts of times in his head on the drive over, he found himself completely lost for words. He had never had to explain what had happened to his parents, there had always been somebody there to do it for him.

"My parents died a few weeks ago." Harry sighed looking up at the other three.

"How." Danny said. Harry didn't want to answer. He had known these people for a matter of minutes and already he had moved in with them and they wanted to know his life story.

Well not his whole life story, just the last three weeks of his life. They probably wouldn't care too much to hear about all the fun times he had living on the posh end of his estate and truanting from school.

"Plane crashed." He said, biting down on his lower lip. He didn't like the taste of those words that he knew would be leaving his mouth frequently for the rest of his life. "What about you three, why are you here?"

Harry watched as the three of them turned to look at each other, it didn't seem that they wanted to explain why they were in care either. Both Tom and Dougie looked worried, but Danny shrugged.

"My parents didn't want me. They were like, uh, my age when I was born so I was adopted, then my adopted parents split up when I was three and neither were that attached to me so I went into care. Then I got adopted when I was four and then when I was six they sent me back to the group home 'cos I was too much to handle. Then I jumped from group home to foster home to group home until I was bought here when I was thirteen." Danny was the first northern person Harry had met. In fact, in his town there were very few people who had moved in. It was a tiny town with nothing but a bunch of upmarket homes and a few dodgy schools and the fact that the schools were definitely not the greatest often would put people off buying their homes there. Since both of Harry's parents had lived in the area all their lives, they thought it was a great place - as did many of the residents.

"Oh." Harry said, not knowing what else to say. In a way Danny made him feel better, at least Danny wouldn't try (and fail) to console him because he had been through a rougher time than him.

"Yeah." Danny wiped his mouth even though there was nothing on it and silence filled the air. Tom was fiddling with the zip on his fleece and Dougie was kicking his shoe against the counter causing a muffled thump every few seconds. Clearly neither of them wanted to speak of why they were in care and didn't plan on saying anything until the subject was changed.

"How old are you?" Harry asked, hoping that this would cut through the silence and awkwardness.

"I'm Sixteen, Dan is Fifteen..."

"I'm sixteen in two weeks." Danny interjected but Tom ignored him

"And Dougie is Fourteen, you?" Tom answered, still not looking up from his zip. Harry couldn't understand what was on that zip that was keeping him so entertained. Or was it just that the zip was more entertaining than Harry?

It probably was that, Harry hadn't been the most interesting person since arriving here.

"Sixteen." Harry put his jam sandwich on the counter next to Dougie, minimally eaten but completely destroyed from all the picking at it that Harry had done.

"Did ya' not like it?" Dougie said, passing looks from the dismantled jammy mess on the plate to Harry.

"Not really." Harry answered bluntly. "Sorry."

"S'alright, you should have said something we could have got you something different." Harry smiled, he probably wouldn't have eaten anything Danny made. It was evident that he would fail the catering GCSE that Harry was taking.

I doubt that the school would even allow him onto the course if his food prep skills were that low.

"Do you want to see your room?" Tom said, finally looking up from his zip. Harry nodded and followed the boys up the stairs, picking up the suitcase he had left by the front door.

Diane was still talking with Mike about him, Harry didn't know that there was that much back story to him that Diane would need to know, he was a pretty average person. Average B/C grade student, normal amount of friends, only received a few lunch detentions for forgetting homework or talking in class. At parents evening the teachers rarely had much to say to him because they barely knew him, he was just another face in the class room who didn't stand out because he was exceptionally good or exceptionally bad. He was just Harry Judd.

And the only thing that had changed since parents evening a few months ago was that he no longer had parents. And Diane already knew that.

Upstairs wasn't much different to downstairs, painted angora with dark wood skirting boards.

"Diane and Sam sleep in the attic." Dougie said, pointing upstairs. "We sleep in these rooms."

"This is your room. It's the smallest one, sorry 'bout that." Danny pointed to the second door on the left. "That one is mine." Danny then pointed to the first door next to the stairs. Harry didn't need Danny to point that out, it did have his name sprawled across the door in big blue letters. "Get settled, Tom come help me with my maths homework."

"Danny, I'm not doing it for you again. Miss MacLaren will notice if you go from getting nothing in homework to getting the majority of marks."

"Please Tom. I can't get a detention again this week."

"No Danny." Tom huffed.

"Please Tom, I'll do anything." Danny grabbed Toms arms and dragged him into his room.

"I'll help you but I'm not doing it for you again."

"That's all I'm asking."

Opening the door to his room, Harry was shocked at just how small the room was. His room at home was large and spacious with a huge TV and Playstation hooked up at the end of his large double bed. This room was simplistic, painted the same shade of angora as the rest of the house with a single bed in one corner and a double wardrobe on the other. It wasn't a box room but it was certainly the smallest room he had ever stayed in. Even the spare room at his grandmothers place was twice the size of this.

"You can decorate it and stuff in a few weeks. If you decide to stay here. And once your stuff has come." Dougie said quietly, smiling at Harry. "Nobody has stayed in that room since I've been here. But I guess you are a bit of an emergency placement."

"How long have you been here." Harry asked, opening the window of his small bedroom that was already getting stuffy.

"A while." He answered entering the room and dragging his finger along the wall. "Longer than Tom and yourself, not as long as Danny."

Well that was pointless answer. Placing the suitcase on the bed Harry slowly undone it. "I'm going to unpack now, I doubt you will want to hand around to watch this. Boring stuff."

"You have less shit than Tom did when he got here. You won't be long." Dougie sat on the bed next to the suitcase. "Also I'm kinda bored."

"You could go help Danny with his homework." Harry said, taking his clothes out of his suitcase and hanging them in the wardrobe.

"I don't do my own homework."

"You might not know the answers anyway, because you're younger."

"Danny is the stupidest year eleven in the school. I bet his homework is something like the two times table and he can't work it out." Dougie said, laughing slightly to himself.

"Harsh."

"He's in set seven. The school is praying that they get E's in the GCSE's, he will probably take them again next year."

"We don't have a set seven at my school." Harry realised that he had spoken the sentence in present tense, he didn't go to that school anymore. He paused for a moment to see if Dougie had noticed. He hadn't and if he had he wasn't going to say anything about it. "Only one two and three."

"What were you in?" Dougie inquired, turning his head to face Harry.

"One. It was easy to get into one when everybody else was thick." Dougie snickered under his breath.

"Your clothes are posh. Not cheap high street stuff." Dougie poked at some of the soft fabrics in the case.

"They aren't posh." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Better than the stuff I've ever had." There was silence for a moment. "Sorry about your parents."

"Yeah." Harry looked at the floor, things always came back round to them.