The Old Tuck Shop

SIX

Just as Ton had predicted, I did get fostered. Several times. But, none of them worked out for me. I was 12 when I first got fostered by the Patterson's. They were a fragile little couple with skin as pale as snow. They had no other children, but they had a dog called Charlie, who hated me.

He was a Jack Russell with white fur covered with ginger spots, and a hatred for me. The moment I took a step into his territory, he leapt at me with incredible force. The couple giggled, as I struggled to get up, only to be pulled back down again by his sharp teeth, as if they thought he was only playing fighting. I stayed the night there, surprisingly. In a quaint little room, with white walls, white bedding, and a white bed, that in some ways resembled a prison cell. Surprisingly, I slept well but was abruptly awoken by the sound of a dog barking. That was the end of that. I knew they weren't right for me.

Next, when I was 13, I got fostered by the Sterling's. They were your stereotypical free-spirited couple, who loved to foster children. Oh, how many children they had. Children of all different shapes and sizes. Of every race. One of the children, named Azalea, I especially liked was probably the only reason I stayed there for a few weeks. She had dark skin, and hair frizzier than candy floss. When I arrived, she showed me around the very lively house. The whole house was caked with drawings and photographs of their many, many, many children. Azalea showed me around every room and introduced me to everyone, but I felt it in my bones that this wasn't the place for me. I just didn't see myself there with them. I was...different.

I always hoped that one day Mabel or even my mother somehow would walk through the door and take me home with them. They knew where I was. That wasn't a problem. Hundreds of letters were sent out to both of them about my whereabouts, but I never got a reply to any of them. It's a shame.

The next few foster families were bland and boring and would take too much time and effort to describe. In a nutshell, they were all crap. Lovely people, don't get me wrong, but I was different from them and I didn't fit in at all. One day, when I was 15, Agatha sat me down in her office, to discuss the situation.

"Finn. This is getting ridiculous now," she said, getting herself comfortable on the seat. I rolled my eyes at her.

"You've had nearly 7 chances of getting fostered and you haven't given any of them a single chance," she sighed, "do you know how hard I've worked to find you foster parents?"

"Oh, you've never stopped talking about it. What about what I want, Agatha? Don't you even care?" I puffed.

"Of course I care, Finn."

I span my chair around to face the wall, fed up with this whole situation. Fed up of trying to get fostered. I felt like a puppy in a pound and I couldn't deal with it anymore. Why couldn't I just be left alone?

"Let's just go over this, okay?" She pulled out a bright red file from one of the desk drawers. She then clapped her hands loudly to catch my attention. I yawned and turned around to face her. There was no point in trying to be stubborn.

Opening her file, she spoke. "Now then...what was wrong with Mr and Mrs Howell?" she asked, clearly annoyed.

"Too happy," I answered, bluntly.

Instead of asking any questions, she sighed resignedly and turned to another page. "Miss Roberts?"

"Too sad...I could never deal with her problems, after her divorce," I snickered.

"The Davies'?"

"Too religious."

She began to lose her patience. She tapped her fingernails on the desk. "The Phillips?"

"Their son was an absolute bastard to me," I snickered, again.

She coughed. Displeased.

"I'm sorry, but it's the truth," I said.

She cupped her face in her hands and sighed deeply. "Finn, I'm afraid that I'm running out of ideas."

"Maybe I should just stay here for a little longer. You can't get rid of me that easily," I joked, trying to ease the tension. I then made my way to my room, somewhat feeling guilty of the whole conversation.

I recalled my first day here. Passing through these halls became second nature to me now. I smiled, as I walked, recalling the first time Ton and I had walked that way, but stopped smiling as I recalled his promise that I wouldn't be here for four years. But I had been. My spirits sank as I realised. That my hopes of 4 years ago had materialised.

On reaching my room, to my surprise, I found Ton perched at the bottom of his bed, waiting for me. I slumped onto my bed.

"Was everything okay this time?" he chuckled, making his way towards me. Concerned.

I stuffed my pillow over my head, "Not in the mood."

"Honestly don't worry about it...Agatha's just pissed because you've turned down so many people. You'll be out of here soon. I promise," Ton said, grabbing the pillow from my head.

Suddenly all of the anger flew out of me. "Oh, really, you promise?"

He stood up, shocked. He'd comforted me through every failed fostering and every reaction would be the same, apart from now.

"Didn't you say that 4 years ago? I'm still here, Braxton!..." I continued. He angrily threw the pillow at me and went back to his bed, trying to ignore me. Even though I was angry at Agatha, I couldn't help but feel anger towards him too.

"Look...I'm sorry for shouting at you...but you just don't get it..."

"Oh? I don't get it?" he snickered, staring me dead in the eye, "...are you taking the piss right now?"

I gulped, "No...I didn't mean it like that, Ton..."

"Yes...yes you did. If you think about it, I've been here much longer than you...So don't you dare say that I don't understand what it's like to be shoved into a care home," he puffed.

"I know...that's why..."

"You don't get to talk right now, Finn. I've had enough of this whole "boohoo my life is so hard" routine because we're in care. Do you not know how many people have had it way worse than you?"

I stared at the floor, and let him get everything out.

"There are kids here that have been beaten black and blue. Kids whose parents have decided that they no longer want them and dump them off here. Do you think that's fair?"

"Well no..."

"So why the fuck are you moping around here thinking you had it the worst, eh?" he sighed.

I said nothing. Afraid that he would charge at me at any minute.

"If you hate this place so much...why don't you just leave?" He placed his headphones back on and turned to face the wall as if showing me that this argument is over.

Maybe I should just leave...