Memory Burns

Trish's house catches on fire, causing both of her parents' deaths. Only she knows that she was the cause of that fire. She goes to live in an orphanage in the hopes of being adopted, but something weighs on her mind. Somebody who had threatened her had intentionally killed her parents, and now they want to kill her. She goes from foster home to foster home, trying to adjust to the life she now has and let go of the ones she lost.

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12. Chapter 12- How Thing Will Be

 

I wake up to a bright light. The hospital? No. I forgot to turn my lamp off before I collapsed in bed.
My stomach growls. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday. Although it isn't the newest feeling, coming from a poor, overcrowded orphanage, I still don't appreciate it. I wince and scratch my head. My entire body is on fire.
I climb out of my bed and crack the door open, glancing through the hall. When it's all clear, I creep down to the bathroom to see how bad I look.
I shut the door behind me, locking it, and check the bruises I have. They are purple and blue, but they look a lot worse than they are. I do have a bruise on my face from where she smacked me, and I dab some concealer onto it.
I hear heavy footsteps and stand behind the door in case the lock doesn't work.
"Are you in here, Trish?" I hear Mr. Longs deep voice and I stiffen.
I can't help but answer from the honey he injects into his voice, "Yes, I'm in here." I say.
"Come on out if you're decent," he says. I can catch the smile in his voice.
"Alright," I say. I open up the door and look at him, but he catches me off gaurd. Instead of his tuxedo, e wears a tshirt and some shorts, and no shoes on his feet.
"Yes?" I ask politely, not wanting to risk getting in trouble again. Who know what another punisment will do to my body.
"What happened to you?" He looks alarmed.
"Mrs. Long caught me holding a cigarette," I mumble, my face turning red.
His eyes narrow, "And what were you doing with the cigarette?" his face is stone cold.
"I wasn't doing anything with it!" My voice is pleading.
He walks down the hallway and glares at me, but doesn't say a word. I see him turn the corner, and then there's silence.
"Why don't they understand me?" I say out loud, as tears fall.
"Here is a clean change of clothes. We are going to take you shopping later, but that will do for now." Mrs. Long doesn't look at me as she thrusts the clothes towards me.
"Alright," I say, smiling to myself. I haven't gotten off to a good start with my foster parents.
"You'll be going to school tommorow. The school that we signed you up for starts early and end early," she tidies up the dresser behind me and then quickly walks down the stairs, "I'm bringing your uniform upstairs right now," she calls to me.
"Okay!" I say, biting my lip. A uniform?
I start to get dressed and stare at the small clothes that Mrs. Long has laid out for me. I don't know how I'm supposed to fit into them, even though they are from Mrs. Long's clothing pile.
I soon hear a knock on the door, and I open it. Mrs. Long stands outside the door with a hanger and an outfit on it. It's plaid. A skirt and a button down shirt with a vest.
"Here you go." she says, "those clothes don't fit you very well," she remarks, gesturing towards my outfit.
I nod at her, not surprised she feels the same. I shut the door in her face and change back into my orphanage clothes. Anything but the uncomfortable outfit I am wearing.

I stare at my bowl of cereal, but I'm not hungry. I am going to school today, and although I am excited, I am also dreading it. This will be the first time I went to school since my parents died, and I will be able to do so much more.
I will be able to join clubs, and make friends, and skip out on class sometimes. I don't know if that's a good thing though. I push my breakfast away and stare at the ceiling.
I hear footsteps and look up. It's the cook who got me in trouble before.
"Yes?" I say, trying to push the bitterness out of my voice.
"I just wanted to apologise... I didn't defend you... that was a bad idea of mine to hand that to you, especially after what you've been through..." she looks at me with innocent eyes, and I can hear my mom telling me to forgive her.
"I know it's not your fault," I sigh.
"I have your backpack here, and I am going to drive you," she holds up my brand new purple backpack and I grab it, groaning from the weight.
"Thanks," I mumble.
Soon I am in the slightly worn pickup truck that belongs to the cook. I inhale the scent of leather and smile. My dad had leather seats in his car. My stomach wrenches when I think of him, but I don't stop smiling. Sometimes, nostalgia can be a good thing.
As the truck glides along the smooth road, I stare out the window and watch the trees fly by in a blur and picture my dad's smiling face, eyes crinkling and white teeth flashing.
"Are you okay, honey?" the cook looks at me sympathetically, and I feel my eyes narrow.
"I'm fine."I mutter quietly. I smile at her, "Sorry, yeah, I'm fine..."
"Alright."
I hear kids shouting and look up, startled. The large school becomes bigger as we pull closer. Trimmed hedges, symetrical trees, and not a fallen leaf out of place. It's amazing.
"Is this my school?" I gasp, eyes wide.
"Yep," The woman smiles at me.
"My name is Lawra... have a nice day at school!"She unlocks the car and I grab my backpack and jump out.
"Thankyou!"I say to her, but I don't turn back towards the car as I walk toward the front door.
"Hey, are you new?" A petite blonde girl steps up to me, smiling.
"Oh, yeah... I guess I am," I laugh
"Do you know what clasroom you are in?" she asks.
I shake my head and she smiles, showing bright white teeth.
"I'll show you to the principles office," she grabs my hand and I stumble behind her, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. Her blonde hair bobs behind her haid, carefully curled so that there is not a strand out of place. S
She is the definition of pretty. And she seems nice. Maybe she can be my first regular friend since the fire.
"Here we are!" she grins, her cheeks blushing with excitement, "you are the first new student in a while, so we all get really excited whenever there is one," she pushes her bangs out of her face, revealing bright purple eyes. My eyes widen.
She opens the large, tall door and beckons for me to step in. I do and gasp. Tall white columns line a lush red carpet. Is this really the school I am going to?
"Hello, you must be Mara." a young lady in a button down shirt and long khaki pants greets me with a smile.
"Yeah..." I don't remember to correct her on my name, so amazed by the utter perfection of every detail of the building.
"We just need you to fill out these forms and you'll be all set to go to your classes. She hands me an envelope and I open it, staring at the paper. Basic questions... My full name, where I'm from, the guardian signature.
"Shouldn't Mrs. Long have already filled that out for me?" I ask. I feel fire in my stomach as I say her name.
"She said that she wasn't sure about all the details, and she would prefer you signed it for her. You can get her signature tonight." she hands me a pen and I begin to fill out the sheet of paper.
I glance up and see the girl who led me here smiling down at me.
"So, where are you from?" she asks me.
"I'm from Virginia..." I say, as I rapidly fill out the form so she can't see the fine print. I don't want anybody to find out I'm a foster kid. It's not that I'm afraid they won't like me, it's just I will feel so diferrent from everybody else.
"Oh, cool! I have a summer home in Virginia... and in Oregon, Colorado, don't ask..."
I drift off and pretend to listen to her listing her numerous houses and mentally picture myself meeting my best firend here. And maybe if the Longs tolerate me they will adopt me and I can stay here forever...
But that's too good to be true.

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