He just stared at her speechless.

What was he supposed to say? It seemed like she already made her mind.

Could it really be? Did she want to bring one more kid to their house? Burrow wasn't really big, it had smallish kitchen and really tiny living-room and only 2 bathrooms and… but how could he say no? How could he say no to one little girl who didn't know what family means for her whole life?

Of course Arthur wanted another child, of course he'd love to have one more little one running around the house during the year when his boys were at school, but could they afford one more kid? One more mouth to feed?

Would Molly really give up her dream of guest room? He knew he couldn't build another one, at least not for next ten years or maybe even more, they just didn't have the money.

Molly looked up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for him to say something.

She wouldn't insist if he told her it wouldn't be possible, she would be terribly sad, he knew that, if she had to find some other family for this kid, but she wouldn't argue. With Arthur being the one working 10 hours every day and paying for all the expenses of his big family she really wouldn't argue.

But how could he say no? He already saw Molly setting one more plate on the kitchen table for dinner, he already saw one more pair of rain-boots on the porch.

And so it was decided. He smiled, with that dreamy smile Molly remembered from every time she told him there will be new little one coming to their family.

He always smiled the same, already looking into the bright future, he wanted for every one of their kids.

He just leaned down and kissed her, with all he had. It was the sweetest kind of kiss, filled with love and peace and excitement at the same time.

And so Molly stepped into the room and put the blanket she was holding on the bed. And as Arthur watched her, he realized this wasn't a room for guests, this wasn't bed for strangers, it was all meant to be, the blanket crocheted from tiny bits of left-over yarn, finished today, the fluffy (old) carpet and mustard-plaid sheets on the bed (he remembered them as Fred's – there was big blue patch in the middle of the pillowcase from the day when Fred set it on fire). It was all meant to be, that there will be soon another pair of little feet jumping into the puddles on their yard.

…

I spent next 4 days mostly lying on the bed pretending I didn't exist. They didn't sign me up for school because Miss Jones was sure I'll be moving soon. For some reason I believed her. I knew I won't stay here. And sometimes I simply knew what was going to happen and this time Miss Jones was right.

They might find just one more family who would take me in, but I doubted they were going to keep me.

Friday, after dinner, Miss Jones called me to her office and announced – with the widest smile I've ever seen- that she found a perfect family for me. And I had to smile with her. I didn't believe there was a family for me, a family that would keep me longer than a month or two, but I had to smile because she seemed too happy for me to ruin her happiness just like that.

"We will leave tomorrow at 6 in the morning ok? It's a long way from here and I need to be back for lunch."

With promise of early start tomorrow morning Miss Jones sent me to the bathroom with instructions to wash my hair and ears and neck and fingernails and brush my teeth and pack my things before I go to bed.

As if I had unpacked anything, as if I had anything to unpack at the first place.

I climbed to my bed, my face still red from the hot bath I took. It was almost ten o'clock but I couldn't sleep.

Could you? Knowing tomorrow there will be one more trip to some distant place, one more home where you won't stay long but you didn't know how long exactly, but also one more chance?

Somehow I knew this is the last chance and I wanted it to work out, I wanted to have a family, someone to take care of me, but I knew I couldn't let them became too close to me. They would ditch me after first mishap – sooner or later.

Next morning, when Miss Jones woke me up, it was still dark outside and all the kids in the orphanage were asleep.

I knew the drill – put on the nicest clothes you had – not a problem for me because I only had one set – after they kicked me out from the last home – it was in a hurry and people seemed to be really freaked out after my flying accident with the tree.

I was impossibly clean (that didn't last long – I usually managed to get dirty before breakfast – not really dirty – it was only nature – soil, grass and such –mind you? It's clean dirt in general) – foster families didn't like dirty kids. I always lived in the city with girls wearing pink bows in their hair designer dresses and shiny mary-jane shoes and played with Barbie and tea sets. I had short brownish hair and I never had any skirt or dress on.

Well I did at first, but it was really impractical and foster parents said it's inappropriate to climb trees when you're wearing a dress. It was only a matter of time when they gave up and let me wear jeans. I had to cut off the bottoms because they were already falling off and they were too short anyway. I had one tee-shirt originally white and red striped, now it had all shades of pink and yellow in it. With my black sneakers and black socks and cut lip (from that tree incident) I looked ridiculous but there was nothing I could do about it.

I went downstairs for breakfast.

She had a cup of coffee and gave me a bowl of porridge but I couldn't eat. I was too nervous. And I yelled at myself in my mind. Don't be silly, they're not going to be your family. Don't get your hopes up. And yet, I didn't convince myself and was practically jumping with excitement.