Epilogue:
There's No Place like Home

Several Days Later

Chapter 44 – Picking up the Pieces

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Glad to be Home

To anyone who takes their home for granted, this entry is dedicated to you. As you may recall, I've been in the foster care system since I was five-years-old. Let me tell you firsthand that it isn't a place where you ever want to end up at. Between the constant shuffling of homes, the lack of privacy, and no one to really get connected with, those of you who thrive on social interaction would probably go insane. Sure, there is always someone to talk to, some councilor always willing to be at your side, but it's the loneliest situation you can imagine.

So for nine years I've been in-and-out of foster homes or orphanages, and when I finally felt like there was no hope for me except to become a homeless eighteen-year-old (like they do to most kids at that age), I was given a last chance with a family that lived on a farm.

While I never expected much, this place ended up being the best home I could have ever been sent to. And with all the crap I've been dealt in the past, it's nice to have somewhere I can be comfortable in, people who I actually enjoy, and a room that I don't share with other kids. As a matter of fact, I just might be too comfortable here.

Now I'm not knocking on the system, because foster care has really helped change kids' lives, and maybe some families, too. While we're all waiting to be placed somewhere else, we hear of success stories that involve some of our friends. Oh, Tommy got adopted… Susie loves her new home… Jimmy is going to college.Secretly we hope that we'll be the next one talked about, but while you try to be hopeful, the doubt usually overweighs it. Some of us have been in there too long to ever be hopeful. That's how I used to be.

I know what it's like to have a family and be around people who really care about me. It's only been four months, but I know that this is where I want to be. I want my story to be told to hundreds of other kids out there who think that no good could ever come from their situation. Those who are resentful of their parents for getting involved in something they shouldn't and end up getting placed in the system for it. My first advice to you guys is reach out to anyone you know like this. They're more common than you think. And maybe it's not just foster kids. There are others out there who have to live with siblings, grandparents, or some other relative when they'd rather be with their parents. It's important to help them out.

Secondly, get your parents involved. Some of you have the means to support foster kids and have never thought of doing so. It is the holidays, and giving a kid a home could be the best thing they've ever received.

I'm not telling you guys that you have to foster a kid, but it helps to be aware of what others are going through. It can really change your perception of the world. And, in my case, I'm glad that someone wanted to get involved. I know I'm different because of it.

Learn about what you can do by clicking on the link on my sidebar.

-Fang, from somewhere along the east coast.

I logged off the internet as I felt his eyes on me. I peered over my shoulder to see Fang leaning against the wall, watching me carefully. He was in his normal garb of black jeans and a black shirt, but he'd been different the past few days since we'd arrived home. Not opener, but maybe less tense. I was pretty sure I was the only one who had noticed the change in him. And his blog entry made me understand why.

I smirked at him. "Emotional much?" I was referring to the blog, and he knew it. I couldn't resist the opportunity to rag him over something like this.

"It's the holidays," he said with a shrug. "Besides, I've decided something important."

"And that would be…?"

His eyes shone darkly for a moment. "If people got more involved with the foster system, we might see less of… us being created."

My breath caught in my throat as he'd said that. In a strange way, I knew he was right. What would stop evil scientists from taking kids who had no family to go back to? They wouldn't be missed, and therefore it would give them a perverted sense of justification for their actions. It's amazing how you can twist morality when you want something bad enough.

However, it suddenly occurred to me that this had been the longest conversation we had since we'd came home.

When we were at the airport in Baltimore, it had been a waterwork of sorts. Mom and Ella were hysterical, but glad to see that we were all okay. For the moment I even forgot that I was supposed to be mad at my mom and hugged her for the longest time. The drive home was awkward, though. Jeb had taken his own car home, so it was just Mom, Ella, Fang, and I left to our own devices. But what were we supposed to talk about? Oh, so, how did you manage not to become a freak with wings? That wouldn't go over very well.

Ella insisted to know what went on in New York — since she hadn't been there in a while — but I told her that we really weren't in the city enough to enjoy it. Sure, she knew that something awful had happened, but maybe she assumed we did some exploring after we had escaped.

Afterwards Mom had taken Fang to get examined by the doctor, who apparently loved the fact that he was still with us ― two visits in a couple months meant a good prospect for the future. Things between my mother and I were still strained; I really didn't want to talk to her about my outburst and she didn't want to mention her past with Itex. I knew we'd eventually get that worked out, but until then I couldn't completely trust her. I love her, but I can't look at her the same way.

Fang didn't have a concussion, but the gash on his head got infected from not having it taken care of sooner. He claimed that he didn't think the injury was that serious, but in reality Jeb didn't have any of his doctor supplies on him. After they treated the infection, they stitched the wound around his hairline. His entrance into the lobby showed the extent of our conversation in the past few days.

"I like the Frankenstein look," I said sarcastically, motioning to his stitches.

He shot me a dark look ― and an inappropriate finger ― for which he was reprimanded by my mother. I couldn't help but be bitchy toward him; my nerves were on edge and taking it out on others helped release some steam. But since then I really hadn't vented on him much. We hadn't talked until I read his blog, mostly because I didn't want to recall the horrors of the labs or Erasers or wings or anything. It was all enough to drive a girl insane.

And on top of that, I especially did not bring up the incident.

I think you know exactly what I was talking about. Not only did I not want to talk to Fang about what had happened in New York, I really didn't want to talk about what had happened in my very own ― well, now destroyed ― tree house. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I mean, I know that I liked the kiss, but it also made me antsy. Sometimes at night, while I was trying to sleep, I would remember the feel of his lips on mine without giving my mind permission to do so. It seemed that my subconscious enjoyed the kiss more so than I did. Or at least more than I'd admit to.

But as weeks passed, school returned, and farm work could not be ignored any longer, we seemed to heal into the sort of semblance of where our family used to be. I could hold a conversation with Mom or Fang without it being terribly awkward, no one would mention Itex ― while it was always in the back of our minds ― and life almost seemed to be normal. It seemed like nothing had changed from before, except that the memory of New York or Itex would never escape us.

At school, James had been adamant about knowing what had happened in New York. I spent most of my time filling him in on the info we'd collected about Itex and what we had witnessed firsthand. For the most part he was horrified, and yet the idea of biogenetics really intrigued him. With his scientific mind, I could easily see him working as a worker for Itex. Maybe he could even put wings on Fang and me. (Daily sarcasm, folks).

And whenever I thought that way, it always made me wonder what will be in store for us. Would I get wings? Should I? How will it affect my life and others' lives? I'm just a teenage girl from small town Maryland, and yet I was supposedly made to save the world. It seems weird, but in a way I wish I could bring some excitement to my now-boring life. Flying through the sky could be fun, once I got used to not imagining myself falling to the ground. But what else would that include? Would I be subject to running away my entire life from scientists who wanted to use me for their own agenda? That didn't seem like the life anyone should have.

And where do Fang and James fit into it? I knew now that Fang was created to be my enemy, and is now my ally before he could find out his fate, but what was James? He has powers like us, too, and the more I watched him the more I recognized the bird DNA similarities between him and us. Lanky, strong, light. How did he get involved in this mess of recombinant life forms? Were there others like us out there?

All these questions replayed in my mind continuously through the next few months, and before I knew it the greatest ―most horrible ― time of the year had come.

It was March 16th, and it's my birthday.

Sorry for the chapter that only really provides questions, but I needed a filler. I actually wrote this on Friday (by some strange miracle) and today was the first real chance I got to look it over. Strange but true story: I was in Delaware this weekend, and when we were heading back to PA we passed through Maryland, and the part we went through looked exactly like the location I made Max live in. Mostly farms, intermittent homes, wide fields. I was really excited. :P

I forgot to mention this before, but congrats to Adonai63 for being the 600th reviewer!!! :) You get a cookie! Welcome to the dark side. Ha ha, anyway there are three more chapters that are all kind of fillers and will lead up to the next story. I promise there will be some goodies packed into it, but you need to be patient.

Off to... well, study for yet another test (this time it's on Macbeth),
--biteoutoflife--