I brush my blonde hair out of my eyes and tug my duffel bag closer to me. I peer up from under my lashes at the woman in the front seat. She wasn't the woman I met last week, but she was fairly nicer and less pressing. She adjusts the rearview mirror and her green eyes meet mine.
"Josephine, are you excited?" She hums, flickering her gaze back to the road.
"I mean, I guess," I murmur, dropping my gaze to my thighs. I didn't know what to expect after mom's baseball bat fiasco, so I don't know if I'm grateful or not for being put in an orphanage.
"It's going to be nerve-wracking, I'm not going to lie." She continues, smiling at me in the mirror. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I turn my head away. My gaze falls onto my dim reflection in the backseat window. The scabs on my cheek grab my attention and I drop my eyes back to my lap. I was released from the hospital recently, only suffering from a sprained ankle, severely bruised shoulder, and the marks and swelling on my face.
The woman sighs and I feel awful for not remembering her name. She smiles once more and says, "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Josephine. I've been in your position. My dad left, my mother used to beat me. It gets easier,"
"How?" I ask softly, raising my head.
She chuckles and I watch her suck her cheeks in before announcing, "Grieve. Throw yourself into what you love. Move on and realize that your past doesn't define your future. What do you love to do?"
"Dance," I say, resting my head against the window. "I love dancing; I had a solo in our school's showcase,"
"That's amazing, Josephine! I was never coordinated enough to be a dancer, writing was more of my thing. I had my own column in the school's paper."
"That's cool," I smile at her; since she's trying to be kind, I can try too. "I'm just hoping my ankles gets better soon; you kind of can't throw yourself into your passion if you can't do it,"
"Makes sense," She laughs, switching lanes. "So Josephine, we're going to be arriving at the holding house soon."
My smile falters and I look back down at my thighs. My jeans are extremely frayed and torn, my skin showing through the tears from my thighs to my shins and my tank top was tight and slightly low cut- I feel like I'm dressed too casually. I rub my arms and suck in a breath.
"Don't worry, I'm sure you can handle this; you look like a fighter."
"I hope I am,"
She slows to a stop in front of a decent sized building. I try not to look at it for too long, my anxiety is starting to act up.
"I'm going in with you, if that makes you feel better," She says, turning around in her seat. She held a card out between her first two fingers. "You can use this number to message me whenever you need to,"
I take the card and stare at the letterhead. Josephine Michaels: Child Services. She had crossed out the business number and scribbled in her real number.
"Are you ready?" Josephine questions, that easy smile on her face. I envy her, her past was simply that… the past. I hope she wasn't holding me to her namesake.
I shrug, pulling my duffel bag into my lap. Josephine unlocks the car and steps out, popping the trunk in one fluid motion. I glance out the back window to watch as she pulls my simple black suitcase from the trunk and I ignore my anxiety long enough to feel guilty about not helping her.
Josephine rapped at the window and I swallow hard, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat. I could cry later, I just had to get through the first few hours. So with trembling fingers and quivering lips, I open the car door and fling my duffel bag over my shoulder.
"So… I don't think you'll have to do much besides get settled in, I can take care of the rest." Josephine explains as she begins wheeling my suitcase forward. I nod and let my head fall against my chest. Normally when my anxiety got the best of me, I tried acting as if I were better than everyone. But my confidence wavered with the new marks on my face and the lack of stability in my life.
I drag my injured ankle, trying to follow Josephine's footsteps. She holds the door open for me and allows me to cross the threshold first before following. I don't look around, I instead opt for fiddling with my hands, but I could just feel the hominess. I wasn't even past the entry way and I feel welcomed. I guess that's what foster homes are supposed to feel like.
I notice that there was a constant flutter of noise; a television was on in another room, chatter was surrounding me, and there was a slight clang from the kitchen. Josephine hip bumps me and gets me to lift my head.
"I think you're going to love it here," She simply states as someone stumbles into my knees.
"Whoopsie-daisy!" A tiny girl squeals. I look down at her and get an eyeful of curly brown pigtails and a yellow romper over a white polo.
"Whoopsie-daisy?" She repeats. I find myself smiling and I drop my bag and slide to the floor.
"Whoopsie-daisy," I respond and she throws her arms over me. "Hiya, I'm Josephine,"
As the little girl settles herself in my lap, she struggles to pronounce my name.
"Joseh? Josie? Josie?" She sings, clapping to herself.
"Yeah," I coo. "What's your name?"
The little girl looks up at me with wide brown eyes and stutters, "C-cat! Meow!"
I giggle and a low voice interrupts me, "So you met Catherine. She was my first too,"
I raise my gaze and fall onto a pair of grungy Vans. My eyes trail upwards and I take in the black jeans up to the Nirvana tee and the shaggy brown hair. He looked about my age, maybe older, and whoever he was, Catherine adores him.
She propels herself from my knees and latches on to his knees. I struggle with getting myself off the ground. My sore ankle gets jostled in the process and I wince.
"Careful Josephine," Josephine reminds me as she holds out her hand. I graciously take it; as a dancer, I've never felt so awkward and bulky.
"Josephine?" The boy repeats wearing a strange expression. "The new girl?"
I find myself staring at his Vans and whispering, "Yeah,"
"Ms. Mary!" He yells, causing me to coward into myself. "Ms. Mary!"
I peer at him as he calls for her and take in a breath; he had flicked his hair out of his stunning blue eyes to reveal a nice pair of lip rings and a matte septum piercing. His eyes flicker over to me and I cling to Josephine as he sizes me up.
"I'm not going to lie, I expected you to look different," He announces while trying to unhook Catherine from his knees.
"Sorry to disappoint," I snap, feeling almost relieved for feeling an emotion I haven't felt in ages. Anger. It felt so relieving, almost normal. I found myself glaring at him with my head raised. My hair was tossed over my shoulder and I saw the change in expressions on his face as he took in my swelling and scarred cheek.
Almost instantaneously I retreat back into myself and turn my head. And here I thought I could be normal.
a/n: I'm so sorry for this extremely belated update. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, if you're still reading. And if you are reading, please comment your opinion on my update. I'm trying to take this story in the direction I truly want it to get through, but I have to get through these fillers first. I hope you enjoy!
~ Lex