Adopted

Chapter 1

You know what sucks? Being 13 and living in an orphanage. Watching the babies and the little kids getting adopted at the weekends when there are adoption days. Having even the staff ignore you because you're 13 and unlikely to have anyone express an interest in you, so you are left to your own devices after breakfast.

And that's where I found myself on Saturday June 27. Not only was it Adoption Day, it was also my 13th birthday. I sighed as I sat in the common room, alone, as usual on Adoption Day. I was scrolling through the TV, at least enjoying the fact that I could watch whatever I wanted until Adoption Day was over and the littles were back, meaning the TV was on either Treehouse or Disney. At least I didn't have to help with Adoption Day anymore. The staff used to ask me to help out, but my 'sullen features' stopped being a selling point and they stopped asking. Which made the pain of Adoption Day just a little more bearable.

I was watching a movie, not really paying attention to it, as I flipped through an old People magazine. Stupid things. "Look at these rich people, they're just like us, they buy coffee at expensive coffee houses and drive cars, just like normal people" I mocked the photos. Deep down, I wished I could be them.

"Don't like celebrities, then?" a voice interrupted my reveille. I looked up and saw a beautiful woman with blue eyes and brown hair. She was wearing a poplin shirt and skinny jeans, and a beanie. With her was a stunning man, wearing black jeans with holes in the knees, a leather jacket and a black and white stripped shirt underneath.

"I wouldn't say I don't like them, I mean, I don't know any, so how would I know if I like them?" I said. "Though the ones who come here and pretend to care, get their photos taken with the 'poor orphans' and then leave, yeah. They're dicks."

The man smiled.

"She's spunky," he said.

"She's opinionated," I said.

"What's your name, honey?" the lady asked.

"Jessica Brahn," I said.

"And how old are you?"

"I'm 13," I responded. "Too old to be adopted, too young to be out on my own."

"How did you wind up here?" the man asked me.

"It's a sad and sordid tale," I said. "Something you probably don't want to be burdened with."

"Burden me," he said, sitting on the coffee table in front of me.

"Well, if you must know, my parents were both killed in a freak accident while they were rescuing stranded hikers off the top of Mount Kilimanjaro. They were gored by rampaging alpacas."

"That's a horrifying story. Except alpacas don't have horns, and I think it's either llamas or mountain goats that are used on Kilimanjaro," the man said.

"My bad. They were gored by mountain goats. It was the alpacas that ate their remains. All that was left was my mother's wedding band and a photo of the three of us."

"Jessica," the Matron of the orphanage said, as she walked into the room. "Your parents were not killed by mountain goats or rampaging alpacas. Nor were they devoured by pygmies or taken prisoner by a wild band of albino Mayans."

The man was smiling and had a twinkle in his eye. The woman looked concerned.

"Jessica loves to tell stories. The gorier the death of her parents, the better. She's an amazing writer and has won a couple of awards at her school for fiction."

"So, really, Jessica, how did you wind up here?" the woman asked.

"The boring truth. My parents were killed in a car accident by a drunk driver when I was eight. I have been living here ever since."

The man looked up at the Matron, who nodded to indicate that was the boring but true story of the demise of my parents.

"Where were you?"

"In the back seat."

"And you survived unharmed?"

"She was far from unharmed," the Matron said. "She was in a coma for two months with head injuries, had a broken arm, broken ribs, a punctured lung and a broken leg. She required extensive surgery and physiotherapy and occupational therapy."

"Oh my," the woman said.

"But she recovered and came to us, bless her. She's a strong one. Strong willed, too. A spitfire if ever there was one."

Was the Matron actually trying to 'sell' me to these people? By which I mean, convince them to take me off her hands. Not like... trafficking. I watch way too much news.

"Unfortunately," the Matron said. And here came the piece of information that turned every prospective parent away. Except it was important.