A Settling

"Is she ok?" I asked him, whispering.
"No. Not even a little bit," he said bluntly.
"What do I have to do to make it better?"
"Just... she's calmer when you're there, but she doesn't want any kind of control or interference. Even though I think that's what she needs. She's a very hurt little girl. Maybe you should read the rest of her file, learn from the mistakes of the last carers she's had."
"Does she think I want to... you know, hurt her?" the sound barely left my lips. It made me wince to even think it.
"Not necessarily you," he soothed, "just men."

I knew he wouldn't tell me all her thoughts and secrets - that just wouldn't be fair to her privacy. I knew the Cullens would help as much as they could. But not only was I her guardian, I was her imprint. That put such a limit on what they could do for us. There was so much I would have to figure out for myself. We both heard the shower stop and he slipped out, leaving me with the comfort that in a real emergency, he would use his power to help me.

Orla pattered down stairs shortly after he had left. The lime of my shirt clashed horrifically with her purple hair, but she looked better than I had seen her all day. I smiled warmly and she sat on the opposite sofa, tucking her knees up inside the shirt.

"I... uh, thought we could read this together, if that's ok with you?" I said softly, gesturing to the file lying on the coffee table between us." She shrugged her shoulders, worry showing through.
"Or, I could read it and you could help me understand? I know I'm new to this, but your side of the story is more important to me than someone else's opinion."

Her response was less begrudging and I sat on the floor in front of her, propping the folder open on my knees. I flicked the television on and gave her the option to change over to whatever. She just left it on in the background.

"I know it can't be nice, having your life stored away into a cardboard wallet. But you're practically an adult, you should get some say in how your childhood ends. I won't even try to suggest I know what's best for you. I don't even know your favourite colour."

I didn't even want to think about some of the things we read that night. And we only covered her years in foster care, I think we'd both prefer to not expose Orla to her time before that.

"You don't really take too kindly to care then, hmm?"
She shrugged.
"Maybe that was harsh. Maybe more... care on your own terms?"
She nodded, that was better.
"Well, maybe we should get some kind of system? A way for you to tell me when you need me and how much you need me?"
She scoffed. I flinched. Maybe not. Maybe I was being too soft. I tried a different angle.
"How far can I trust you to come to me if you need something? Like, anything from a ride to school to a ride out of a nasty situation. If you need me to go away or if you need me to come and hug it all better."
She cocked her head uncertainly, then frowned and waved her arm at the file.
"Or do you not trust that I would be there? That I would do it? You think I'd be like them?"

She nodded and fiddled with her sleeve nervously. At least two of the families had disregarded her opinion entirely, and the rest had pretty much only humoured her decisions until it was inconvenient. She was ready to leave the conversation alone now, and we took some quiet time idly watching the TV for an hour or so. It wasn't late yet. I was lost in my own thoughts when a little cold finger touched my shoulder.

"Oh, hey, sorry, in my own little world there. Are you ok?"
She nodded and eyed the living room door, wanting to get out.
"Oh, sure, it didn't click I was blocking your way. How about we get some stuff put away? You'll need clothes and stuff for school."

She didn't really have much in the way of clothes or possessions. The bulk of her packing was oversized hoodies, with just a few t-shirts and trousers and a pair of pjs.
"Alice Cullen would have a great time shopping for you," I chuckled, trying to make light of the situation she was obviously ashamed about. She scowled at me. "But what you have is fine," I winced.

The final bag was just bits and bobs. Bits and bobs she wanted to keep private to herself. She slid it under her bed without even looking in it. I had hoped she'd have pictures or books or something to give the room a little more personalisation. It felt very sterile, not at all how I'd remembered Leah's room being when she was 16. I flopped down on the bean bag as she stuffed her underwear into the dresser. It was still only 9.

"Here, come sit with me. Grab that notebook out of the top drawer, you can ask me some stuff, if you'd like?"
She joined me willingly enough. Her knee brushed my forearm as she got herself comfortable. She tried to pretend she hadn't noticed but I saw her flinch all the same. I ignored it, she was glad.
"Go on then. I'll tell you anything you like." I grinned encouragingly as she bent over and scribbled.