яαιѕє α gℓαѕѕ тσ fяєє∂σм ☆ adopted by a.ham

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Seven years ago...

We were sitting at the dinner table when we received the news.
   My older sister, Cornelia, heard a knock at the door and stood up. "I can get it," she said, then walking over to the front. She came back with the letter.
   Cornelia sat back down. Our brother, Chris, who is the middle child, scooted his chair closer to see it. "What does it say?" he asked.
   "We shouldn't be snooping in our parent's mail," Cornelia retorted.
   Chris pointed at the cover. "It says its for us."
   "Well, sorry. I can't read."
   "I'll read it out loud to you," Chris offered, and our sister handed him the letter.
   He unfolded it. I was watching from across the table, not really understanding what's going on. I'm only seven.
   "Go on," Cornelia was getting impatient.
   Chris cleared his throat. "Dear L/N children, your parents have not arrived to England within the usual time. Since there has been some unexpecting weather, we believe they have been lost in the English Channel," my brother paused to catch a sob in his throat and continued on shakily, "They will not be returning. We have arranged for Cornelia to stay with Mr. Jefferson in Paris, and Chris to his grandmother here in England. Y/N will be put into a foster system."
   Cornelia broke into a wreaking sob. Chris just stared at the letter in shock.
   I didn't know what was wrong. I know I heard my name in the letter, but I had no clue what it meant. What's a foster system?
   "Who signed it?" Cornelia dabbed her hazel eyes, which were now blotchy and red. My stomach dropped.
Chris examined the paper. "It doesn't say."
"What's going to happen?" I asked, finally speaking up.
"We're being separated," Chris moved over to me. Tears were starting to stream down his cheeks. "But don't worry, everything will be okay."
I still was confused.
The next morning, a man came by our house. He rang our doorbell and Chris answered it.
"Are we ready to go?" the man asked. He didn't seem friendly. I was standing behind Chris, trying to hide. Cornelia walked downstairs with her suitcase. She was wearing a fancier dress than what she usually would have on.
"I'm ready," she sighed, handing her case to the man. She drew Chris and I into a hug.
"Where are you going?" I questioned.
"To a Mr. Jefferson in Paris. Visit me when you have the chance," she smiled weakly, then pulled back. She stepped out the door and cast a glance back. "Goodbye, Chris, Y/N."
I watched her get into the carriage where the man was waiting. She waved, then the horses sped on their way.
Then, the afternoon came. An old man entered the house without knocking. "Chris L/N, your ride to England is here," he called in a raspy voice. Chris bounded downstairs with two suitcases. He handed me one.
"I packed you this, okay? When the foster manager comes, hand it to him," he whispered, hugging me. He also left me alone.
I sat at the table. Everything was quiet for a very long time, until there was one last knock.
I slowly opened the front door to another man. "Y/N L/N, I'm here to bring you to the foster home."
I nodded and handed him my suitcase. He escorted me to his carriage. The man threw my bag in the back and I sat down. He followed me and then whipped the horses.
We were whisked away to a dirty old building. I was entered into the system and was immediately transfered to another home where an old couple was waiting for me. These two were apparently my new parents that would be taking care of me until I'm moved to another house.
But of course, I quickly realized that things don't last.

Seven years later...
Present day, 1780

I had a nightmare that I was on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, being cast away to America. When I opened my eyes, my dream was a reality.
Truth is, I'm being sent to my next foster home. My first foster family died within a year, and I've been switching from family to family every year and a half on average. It's pretty draining. The foster system in England had no where else to put me, so they've transfered me to a different system in the new country, America.
As of right now, I'm fourteen. My parents died when I was seven. I had two siblings, Cornelia and Christopher, but they're far away from me, one in England and the other in France. Or atleast, I think they are.
The ship rocked as I stood on the bow. I watched the ocean roll before me. "How much longer?" I asked the man sitting on a chair, asleep. He sniffed.
"Probably a few minutes until we are able to dock," he murmured, then dozed off. The man is my personal caretaker and puts me into different homes. He isn't counted as my father, since I don't live with him, but I've known him since I left birth parent's house.
Like he said, a few minutes later and we were docked. I grinned at the American horizon line, taking in the houses and people strolling in the streets.
We were in New York, apparently. Quickly, we found my new home. There was a young man standing in the front, waiting impatiently.
"Hello, sir," I curtsied. He just grunted.
My caretaker and the man exchanged a few words, then he was on his way.
"Please, come in," my foster father said flatly. I entered his home. It smelled a lot like there was a sickness floating about but had already been washed out.
"My name is Y/N, pleased to meet you," I took out my hand to shake his.
"Arnold. But I would prefer you called me sir," he murmured, refusing to take my hand.
"Would father or dad work?" I asked innocently. He just snapped at me.
"I said sir. Y/N, go unpack your bag. You'll be sleeping in the attic," he said roughly. I nodded sheepishly.
"Yes sir," I said, then darted up the steps. The attic was dusty and reeked of rat fecal, but I set my suitcase down. There was a lumpy mattress on the floor, torn and ragged. No blankets or pillow. This wasn't what I imagined. My other homes were in better shape than this.
I sat down on the edge of the mattress, looking outside at the blue sky through the foggy window. The sound of Mr. Arnold already taking a loud nap in the other room wafted through the walls. I heard a snore, and I instantly knew this was going to be a rough year and a half.

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I hope everyone enjoyed! If you have any suggestions for future chapters, let me know!

petunia xx