Chapter Text
“Ah! What the hell Cole?” I yelled, sitting straight up. My lovely roommate had just poured a bucket of ice-cold water over my head while I was sleeping peacefully. “ I was dreaming about living in an actual house, and you ruined it. Ruined it! You hear me?!?!”
Cole chuckled, seemingly unfazed by my outburst. “Well, if you get ready in time, your ‘dream’ might come true.” he raised his eyebrow accusingly at me. What was he not telling me…?
“Oh my god! Cole! What time is it?!” I questioned, ripping the now sodden duvet off and jumping out of bed.
It was adoption day. The day I’d been counting down for since the last adoption day, six months ago. How could I have possibly forgotten? Cole chuckled once more, “It’s eight-thirty,” he explained, “You have half an hour.” Oh I love him, always looking out for me.
Cole and I had been best-friends since he came to the Center, 6 years ago. Long time, I know. He was a shy, thin, nervous 10 year old boy, who needed a friend. I gave him one, and we hit it off right away. Now, he’s my shyly-confident, well-built, over all amazing best-friend who I love dearly, but he really needs to find better ways of waking people up.
After I had gotten ready, we headed downstairs to breakfast. I had changed into denim shorts, with black tights underneath. A spotted black and white button-up blouse covered my torso, with a black jacket over the top. I used to have this awful ginger hair, but when I was thirteen, it developed into this lovely deep auburn, so recently, I paid to have the ends lightened into a reddish-blonde, which, in Cole’s words, brought out my ‘stunning emerald eyes.’
Our conversation was light as we made our way to the Dining Hall. After six years of getting passed up on for adoption, neither of us were particularly optimistic, despite my previous excitement. Every six months, all the kids in the centre, 0-18, got reviewed for possible relocation. That’s twelve times I’d faced rejection, and to be honest, it was quite painful. But, we held our heads high, and got on with life as usual, just with a slightly heavier heart. Generally, it was the younger kids that got chosen, toddlers and young children. And it made sense, it really did. The kids would grow up with them, and never know any different. Whereas if you took a teenager, now that’s a whole other story. So, once you’d passed 8, there was less than a 25% chance of being chosen.
We walked over to our usual table, joining our already seated group of friends. There was hushed arguing. Curious, I said, “What are we talking about?”. Immediately, everyone sat up straight, to face me, the hissing stopping completely. Silence followed. Eventually, my friend Hadley spoke up, stuttering on her words.
“N-nothing, just... talking about--”
“Matron's outfit choice for today,” Willow finished. The others nodded fervently. Frowning, I nodded, “Fair enough.”, though I was still suspicious. I glanced at Cole, who looked equally as perplexed as I did.
Changing the subject, I asked them how they felt about the upcoming review.
“To be honest, Shirley, I’m not expecting anything, It’ll be the same all the previous years, they’ll look at my records, and skip right past me.” Bailey said wistfully. Bailey’s parents had been in a gang, and he was to follow in their footsteps. So when they died in a street fight, he was left homeless, alone, and with a lengthy criminal record before he was picked up by Social Services. Which was weird to think about, because the Bailey I knew was hardworking, studious and quite timid, not at all the vicious, violent and angry boy he was made out to be in his Records. Something I found unfair on so many levels.
I placed a pale hand on one of his olive ones reassuringly. “Don’t give up hope just yet, I’m sure it will be fine.” I assured him. He gave me a small smile in return.
“She’s right, you know.” Leo affirmed confidently, although I could see the doubt in his eyes, which made me come to the conclusion that he was saying it mostly for his own benefit.
“Where an opinion is general, it is usually correct,” I quoted, Slightly amused by their blank faces, I added, “That was Jane Austen, by the way.”
Giggling, I watched as realisation washed over their faces.
“You and your books Shirley.” Willow accused. I slapped her on the arm,
“Can we stop with the Shirley?”
My name was Anne Shirley, but they called me Shirley because it sounded like an ‘old person name’. Mature, I know. Cole called me Annie, and he was the only person I let call me that.
Suddenly, someone started speaking over the intercom.
“Can everyone please make their way to the foyer.” There was a pause. “Quietly, please guys.”
We chuckled but stood up silently anyway. This was it. The moment we’d all been waiting for.
I leaned over to Cole, who was standing by my side, pressing into my side slightly with what I assumed was nerves.Grabbing his hand, I started rubbing circles with my thumb on his palm, something that I learned helped to calm him.
“Showtime.”