Chapter 1
" The Jensen's."
Rochelle Quinn's POV:
"You shouldn't have broken her nose."
I rolled my eyes, sighing. "Not this again."
How many fucking times does she have to mention it?
"Yes this again, you can't go around breaking noses!" My social worker exclaimed, staring at me in shock.
"She deserved it." I mumbled, glancing out of the window of the wretched car that I'd spent most of my life travelling in. The old hag has no right to lecture me on something that she doesn't know about.
Jenny Doyle sighed, pulling up outside of a massive house. She turned to face me and I tried not to roll my eyes again.
And failed.
"First of all--"
I cut her off.
"Try your best, stay out of trouble, no fighting and I'll see you next week. Yeah yeah, I know. Bye." I grabbed hold of my bag and went to step out of the car, which caused her to grab my wrist. I flinched away and glared at her.
"No, Rochelle-"
"Rocky." I corrected, narrowing my eyes at her. She knew I hated that name but she still insisted on calling it me.
She sighed again, a habit which I had caused her to take. "Rocky, this family is the only one who would take you. If they kick you out then you're going back to a home, and I know you don't want that." My expression remained void as she spoke to me, as always I hid my true emotions. "Just try your best, kid, please. I don't want you in a home."
Don't pretend you fucking care.
"Bye, Doyle." I slammed the door shut and walked up to my new home, knocking on the front door.
I wonder how long I'll last here.
A small woman opened the door, her eyes widening when she noticed me. I straightened my snap-back and waited for her to speak.
"You must be the new foster, come in." She opened the door wide and I strolled in. She spoke again, "The children will be home soon."
Children?
Annoying little rats created to destroy my entire life?
Fucking great.
I sat down in the dining room, taking in my surroundings.
"Marybeth, has the new foster child come yet?" A feminine voice called out, a cold breeze coming through the room as the words echoed.
"Yes Ma'am, she's in the dining room." The same voice from before called back, sounding distant.
A women with incredibly long brown hair and a petite face walked into the room, her eyes looking around until they met mine. She beamed at me joyfully and over-enthusiastically.
Ew.
Happiness.
An emotion that was almost foreign to me.
"Good afternoon, you must be Rochelle. I'm Katherine Jensen but please call me Kath or whatever you feel comfortable with." She smiled again and stuck out her hand. I stared at it until she moved it back.
"Rocky Quinn, but I'm sure you already knew that." I replied stiffly, looking at her emotionlessly.
One of the first things that I learnt as a child was not to get attached.
You never know when they could get rid of you.
"Yeah I did." Despite my rude manner, she still smiled. "My husband and sons will be home soon so I'll show you to your room now."
Jenny told me that after this family got rid of me, I'll be going in a home.
But I'll still be the same way as I am here.
It's all about survival.
*.*.*.*.*
It's fair to say that my room was completely unexpected.
The walls were a dark grey with black bedding, no traces of pink or purple anywhere. My walls were lined with spray paints and skateboards. It was basically my dream room.
Trying not to get attached proved difficult.
But do I care? No. These people live in an entirely foreign world to me. I could get used to it but I've got too much hood in me for it to fade away. They could give me everything, and I'd still remember what it was like to have absolutely nothing.
This will not change me.
No matter where they dump me, the Southside will always be my home.
And living with some Poshies in Gold Coast will never change that.
Apparently I'll be receiving a weekly allowance, just like the other children.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement.
I don't know what they're doing. Whether they're just trying to gain my trust, get me involved in something fucked up or send me back after getting my hopes up, I don't know.
I don't understand it.
She also gave me a smartphone and a MacBook but I had no idea how to use them so she said that she'd get one of her sons to show me. She explained about the architecture of her home and about all the different rooms available to explore.
And speaking of her sons, I hear the door slam and a loud noise which probably means they're here.
I can't wait to meet the little brats that I'll be living with.
"Rocky. Rocky. Rocky." A deep masculine voice was chanting my name and I rolled my eyes, walking down the massive stairway until I could see 5 teenage boys stood with Katherine and another man, who was obviously suffering from RBF syndrome.
The word 'teenage' being key.
I'm not stuck with young, bratty children.
I'm stuck with hormonal, idiotic teenage boys.
Now my reaction to this, like my reaction to many things is just 3 simple words.
Fuck. My. Life.
From where I'm stood, I can clearly identify what each boy was like.
The twins looked like the oldest, however their baby faces made them look cute and small. But, their posture suggested their comical personalities and possible bad boy or class clown stereotypes. They were wrestling on the floor and hitting each other jokingly, while one of them chanted my name.
The next one was covered entirely in black clothing. His clothes darker than his hair. He glared at all of his brothers and looked extremely annoyed, whether it was his permanent expression wasn't obvious but he looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here. His brown hair was messy but smart, which worked well with his matching eyes. He's kinda cute, in a strange, gothic kind of way.
Brother #4 was blonde, and looked about 15. He had a skateboard near his foot and was wearing a soccer uniform. His expression resembled the twins as he laughed at them. He was cute, but barely resembled his other siblings.
The last brother looked the youngest. He was completely isolated from his brothers and stood in the corner, head in his phone and earphones in. I think I'll get on with this one. He seems to hate people as much as I do. I could tell he was related to the other brothers however, he had the small petite face mixed with the dark hair and strong build.
One of the twins started chanting my name again, his voice loud and deep. The other twin fought to keep a firm hand over his brothers mouth.
"Rocky. Rocky. Rocky!!"
I rolled my eyes at the cliche tone. It seemed as though they were excited to meet me.
Why would anyone be excited to meet someone they have no idea about?
Fuck this.
I step out of the shadows.
*-*
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