"Ava's POV"
*Two Months Earlier*
Four foster homes in one year had to me some world record, right? I ran my sun pendant along the gold chain that hung from my neck as I focused on the buildings that passed us. Where was I going next?
"I just don't understand Ava," Ms. Younger said. Her hair sat softly on the top of her head in a big bundle of auburn, mostly know as bed head. Her usual thick classes and eyeliner wasn't apparent on her face, and that may of had to do with the fact of getting a phone call at 4 in the morning.
"I'm too old to keep doing this."
I shot daggers at her through the rear-view. Old isn't what I would call a women who drank caramel cappuccinos every morning and had a 20 something year-old boyfriend. For a women in her forties to look like a grad student had to be some type of award. She didn't look a day over 30, no wrinkles, no bags, no fat mole sitting on the corner of her mouth. What exactly was old about her? The fact that she enjoyed Shakespeare or still listened to Cyndi Lauper?
"I just, don't know anymore Ava." She complained once again. Was she thinking about passing me off to another case worker? Ms. Younger had always been there for me, ever since I was given away at birth. I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else.
"I didn't do it on purpose." I commented, I leaned my head against the head board, focusing on her face through the rear-view mirror, she had to believe me.
"Ava, how naive do you think I am?" Her voice was a pitch higher, something that always happened when we argued. I rolled my eyes slouching even more in my seat than before.
Ms. Younger grabbed my gaze through the mirror. "So what? You accidentally got Mrs. Conrad fired from her job?"
"It was her fault not mine." I returned, making sure not to show any sign of lying. Ms. Younger gave out a huff shaking her head.
Mrs. Conrad did not deserve the job she had. She abused it, she destroyed it; all I did was show her boss who she truly was. Nobody should be able to get away with what Mrs. Conrad was able to. People have to be punish for the damage they cause, and boy did she do some of that.
"She didn't deserve-"
"She didn't deserve what? A bratty 15 year old living under her roof for free?" Her face contorted into an angry grimace.
It was my turn to be mad now. She didn't understand what had happened at that house, and I will never tell her either. She can keep on calling me whatever she wanted, brat, ignorant, conceited, but I chose to call myself something different; independent. I didn't want any adults watching me, or for somebody to think I was their responsibility. For them to not think of me as a loving daughter, but another weigh on their shoulders.
"Honey," she started, her voice softening as she let her tight grip on the wheel go. "I have done my best to put you in the most caring and supportive homes in this city. For you not to feel so alone or that you have to be independent, for you to make connections and discover new things and for people to understand your..." She searched for the right word. "Your incomparable personality, which-"
"Isn't a bad thing; I know." I usually finished all of her sentences like this. She said the same thing every new home I went to.
"Correct. But this was your fourteenth foster home that you have been kicked out off since being a little girl, and with the records that you keep building...." She shook her head as she looked at me again through the mirror.
"It becomes almost impossible to find a healthy home for you."
I hated that word.
Impossible.
YOU ARE READING
It's High School (Completed)
Teen Fiction"Henry?'' I whispered, scared that if I spoke to loud he would disappear into thin air like breath in cold weather. He turned around and his eyes lit up. He smiled so wide that you could see his gums from a top his pearly white teeth. I was surprise...
