“So do you want to go to the movies tomorrow?” Michael asked.
“Sure!” I replied.
“So I’ll pick you up at ten alright?”He started walking towards the bus stop.
“See you then” I called.
As soon as I entered my house, the smell of home baking hit me.
“Jenny, Jenny I’m baking! Tilly shouted, grabbing my skirt. I don’t fuss because she’s only 3. Despite the fact I was wearing a new skirt, I knew not to get pissed at her as she doesn’t realise that flour is a pain in the backside when it gets smudged into clothing. And that I know from experience. Instead, I think soothing thoughts about getting a new skirt tomorrow and I let her drag me into the dining room where plates of cookies and cakes were laid out on the table. I sat down.
“What did you bake sis?” I asked. Tilly isn’t my real sister. I am adopted. My real mum died in a house fire along with my little brother Ben. I’ve never met my dad; he left my mum before I was born. I was at a sleepover that night, when it happened. I've been in and out of carehomes since I was 7. But they decided that the homes were too "unsettling" for me. They weren’t so much unsettling as intimidating. I was a naive little kid and I didn’t understand why the other kids picked on me. I lashed out at times and I was lead to believe that my situation was my fault. So much up to the point where I managed to run away from one of my care homes at the age of nine and I got twenty miles from home. I was punished when they found me but they couldn’t risk me running away again because of the amount of bad press they got. So I live with Julie and her daughter Tilly. Its alright I suppose. She's not bad as foster carers go. She chose to foster me even though she has her own daughter. She is quite young though. Also they say foster care but I've been here for half a year now and it’s like I'm part of their family not an outsider. First time in 7 years that I've lived in the same place for this long.
“I baked gingerbread men and cookies!”
“Cool” I grabbed some cookies and ran upstairs. Once I was upstairs, I munched on the biscuit. Mmmm it was good.
I looked at my alarm clock. 10:32. OMG! I am late for my date with Michael. I haven’t spent much time with him this week due to both of our school commitments. I play the flute and am part of the netball team whilst Michael does football. I’ve played the flute for three years now and it’s something that I was encouraged to do after grandma passed away and left me a box with all of mum’s stuff that she had. It had a flute with various awards she achieved as she progressed with it. I want to make her proud by doing the same thing and Julie said it would be a good way to feel closer to her as I don’t remember much about her, and even littler about Ben. Grandma was the only relative of mum’s that I knew. When she was well, she would come and visit me once a fortnight in my care home until they moved me and she was too far away to travel. I missed her during her final years and I wasn’t even allowed to go to her funeral as the home I was in at the time wouldn’t allow it. I got given the box about a week after and I have cherished it ever since. It contains a lot of mum’s personal belongings and a lot of photos of me and her, and a few of her and dad. All I know is that he has black hair and brown eyes. I forgot all about Michael as I daydreamed about what my dad was like when he met my mum. Ben’s dad wasn’t much better either, he ditched me as soon as he found out his son died, according to grandma he had a mental breakdown but I’m glad he left because he ignored me anyways since I wasn’t actually his flesh and blood. But I remember that mum loved him a lot. Then Julie’s voice brought me out of my thoughts.
“Jen, Michael just called. He said that he had to cancel your date. He wants you to come over later.” I love going to Michael’s. His parents are so welcoming; it feels like a second home and I spend most of my free time around his. It’s less awkward than bringing him to mine since Tilly just asks awkward questions and I don't feel comfortable asking Julie to bring a boy back. I mean we get on ok, it’s just we never have any deep, girly conversations as her job is really just to provide a place for me to live until I’m sixteen, when she can legally ask me to move out. I don’t think she would kick me out, she’s a really nice person and she’s been really welcoming over the last year and a half. I dressed in my combats, a hoodie and converses. I headed over to Michael’s house. He wouldn’t mind if I was early.
I arrived at Michael’s at 11:13. We lay side by side on his bed, facing each other. We started kissing. Michael is an amazing kisser. His lips are gentle and soft. And he does that varying pressure thing that girls go on about. I didn’t really understand it when Sally Hayes brought in a magazine article about it. But she said her boyfriend was really good at it and it changed the whole concept of kissing. But it doesn’t. I mean it’s nice and all, but kissing has survived this long without it. It just makes the experience more sensual. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Immediately we broke apart.
“What?” Michael called out in exasperation- he really doesn’t like it when people interrupt our me-time. In came Michael’s big brother. Coincidently, he has the same name as my deceased little brother- Ben.
“Michael, Aunt Mandy just called. She wants you to go over and visit her. She says she has something for you.”Ben informed Michael.
“Take good care of Jen.” Michael warned. Then he left.
Quote of the day: You are the chords, I am the melody. Together we play in perfect harmony.