Farrist is your average 16 year old girl that has lived in over 20 foster homes her whole life (trust me she has been counting) and the only place she feels like she can escape is her laptop. The chat rooms and all the new people wanting to be her friend! It is hard to say no until one day she is almost forced to.
New friend request
"Get up Farrist!" Screams Georgia, my foster mother, in my ear. "If you don't go to school I don't get my check!" She screams even louder. I finally surrender and open my eyes to the overly tan and blue eye shadow face of Ms. Georgia Janes. I can smell the cigarette she had smoked this morning in her breath.
"Calm down I am getting up!" I scream back at her "All you care about is your stupid check Georgia, and I will leave if you don't stop breathing lefted over cigarette in my face!" Me and Georgia don't get along that well. We have an agreement she stays out of my way I will go to school and not leave so she can get her check. Living in foster homes since you were four teaches you that is the magic words in this life. "Now shut up before you wake the rest of them up!" I scream just to get all of it out of my system. She looks at me and grabs my left hand and looks at me straight in my green eyes.
"Don 't you dare to tell me to shut up! Ever! I have my tricks Farrist, and I could get you and your nagging butt rotting in jail were the women are worst then me sweetie pie!" She says in a quiter voice. The part about Georgia that I don't like is that she did her research about being a foster parent. She knows if she can prove I try to steal something from her I will go to juvy. I can still hold my threat of leaving agianst her I just have to check my bag every time I leave. I rip my hand from her stone hard grip and look at her with no expression but annoyance. "Get out and I will get ready." I finally say
She walks to the door and slams it shut. I walk over to my dresser and pick out what to wear. I finally decide on a black t-shirt that I got from a thrift store with a old 70's band name on it. I put on my dark skinny jeans and my black boots. I look at my mess of bleach blonde hair with one pink strand in it. I have been called fake and albino for my hair color but it is natural, but no matter how many times I tell the ones who choose to spend their time making fun of me, they never belive. The pink streke is not real sadly. I put on my normal amount of make-up and walk down stairs to what I hate most about the morning. Breakfest in this place.
Alec, a boy who is the same age as me and was here before I was, meets me by the door way.
"Babe," Says Alec as he gets a strand of my hair and plays around with it. "Had a bad night? We all heard the yelling.While your mouth is beautiful it is quiet loud."
"Shut up golden boy and move out of my way so I can eat and get out of here and go to school." I say unlike the rest of us Alec is the golden boy of our high school