New Beginnings, Bellanessa21 [pride and prejudice read .txt] 📗

Hi. My name’s Veronica. I’m 16 years old, an orphan, and am currently in the foster system. I bet your probably thinking, “Oh, poor girl, she must be so scared”. Well I’m not so don’t worry yourself over me, I can take care of myself; have been for a better part of my life. Yeah my parents died in a car accident, it’s sad I get it, but I’m over it now, it’s in the past. I’ve been put in 4 foster homes, run away from said foster homes and been a rebel all my life, nothing wrong with that. Foster homes are not all bad, some were pretty nice, I just never fit in. Most of the time the kids would hate me and push me around, but I wouldn’t take it personal. There was this one home that belonged to an architect and his wife, they were nice to me, bought me clothes, took me to movies, family game nights; but they had a nasty habit when it came to discipline, maybe it was because I was always sneaking out.
So now you know my sob story, go ahead and wipe your tears its ok. Like I was saying, I’m in the foster program in Olympia, Washington, been here for about four months, and tomorrow I’m supposed to meet with a potential foster family. I don’t know much about them but Bertha, my counselor, said that the couple have been looking into foster programs and have wanted an older kid.
Now, most of you already know this, but I’ll go ahead and dish it out. When families come to check out foster kids, they almost always go for the babies, don’t know why, but I think it has something to do with less chance of the kid knowing their orphans and the parents dealing with drama. Bertha told me the Henderson’s were very nice, had been married for 10 years and were young looking. They had one son; Jonathan who played baseball and was smart, Rosalie was a doctor, and Peter a mechanical engineer for an Underground Railroad system. When Bertha was done giving me the schedule for tomorrow I went back to my room and hoped tomorrow went by fast. Knowing I would never get picked, I threw away the itinerary.
Later that night I was sitting in bed and out tumbled four bodies, “ahh, who – you guys what are you doing in there?” Disentangling themselves, Tommy, a little blond boy walked up to the bed with his broken and mangled teddy bear “I don wan you to go! ‘Mara say you goin away. Don’ go roni. Hugging the little blond butterball I pulled him up on the bed with me I saying “don’t worry you guys, I won’t be there long, first chance I get I’m gonna run away. They looked at me with eyes full of hope. Amara and her green oval eyes looked from the kids to me, “listen guys, Veronica got chosen and she isn’t going to come back this time, she can’t.” Turning to look into six pairs of watery eyes Amara said “this is Veronica’s last chance, if she blows this, she won’t be coming back”. Totally shocked that my best friend would even say that I said “Amara, I’ll come back I swear, I won’t leave you guys”. Giving me her signature hands on her hips look Amara glared “Now you listen to me Veronica and listen well, you’ve had so many chances to live a normal life as possible for kids like us; you know it’s near impossible to get picked at our age. Picking up Tommy and walking the kids out into the hall Amara looked back, “Don’t mess this up V, I know you better than you know yourself, and I can tell you that you belong with them. G’night”. G’night I mumbled as Amara closed the door. When I was positive no one was in the room I pulled out my diary. Not a big deal, just a regular diary, no dark or destructive sketches or poems. My experiences, feelings, and thoughts go in it, no suicidal notes or anything like that.
Amara had told me she knew me better than myself, I could see how. I’ve never known her to talk much let alone give me a lecture. When I first got here I would mess everything up. Break things, steal, throw aggressive tantrums; I was a mess. That was the first time I met Amara. She looked so tiny and skinny I wouldn’t have noticed her in the corner of the room if she hadn’t moved. Walking right up to me she held out her hand “come with me.” I was so angry and scared that I started to walk away from her; she followed me and said again “come with me.” In the end I took her tiny hand as she led me outside, she guided me to a building on the far end of the gate; we went inside and walked up some stairs to a solid door. “I used to come up here when I was scared, no one knows about it so it’s safe, come back down for dinner when you’re ready” she said opening the door to let me in.
Staring wide-eyed I looked through the door and immediately started crying. It was a greenhouse, full of roses of all types and colors. Everywhere I looked roses were either, hanging, climbing up walls or in pots; they were beautiful. Taking a closer look if found a chair with big fluffy pillows, walking up to it I also found a diary. Sitting down I opened the diary and a letter came out, unfolding it I read:
Whoever has this diary knows of my hiding spot and is always welcomed. I planted all these roses to remind me of my home, I know I’m not wanted anymore, but I still feel safe surrounded by familiar things; they make me happy. When I first got here I tried to run away, I didn’t care if my mom didn’t want me, I just Wanted to go home. I found this old greenhouse and sat for a while, and I finally said to myself “I know it sucks, and it’s going to be tough staying here, but I’ll give it a shot. I thought if my own mom dropped me off and told me she couldn’t take care of me, I Forgive her. When it gets hard or I need to be alone I can come up here clear my mind. It’s worked for me so far, maybe it will do the same for you.”
P.S. this diary is for you, if there are things you can’t talk with someone or you can’t say It, you can write it.
Looking back, Amara has always been there for me. She always knew something was wrong or would tell me what I needed to hear. Sighing and pulling up the covers I came to a decision to try my hardest tomorrow.

Veronica!!! Why are you still in bed! I told you to be ready by eight.” Cracking open one eye to see Bertha pulling open the blinds, sunshine pouring in through the window. “Ahh, Bertha, just five more minutes please” I said as I rubbed the rest of my sleep from my eyes. “C’mon honeybee, give them a chance, no more butt’s get in the shower and be down in 10”, Bertha huffed as she walked out. Sighing I get up, grab some clean clothes and go into the shower. Five minutes later I come out with black pants, black blouse and my hair in a ponytail. I never wear makeup so I was ready and presentable in no time at all. Meeting Bertha down the hall I couldn’t help but smile as she muttered “black again, of all the colors in the world and she goes with black”, “hurry it up honeybee they’re downstairs already”. Walking down to the meeting hall I took in a deep breath of air and let it out in a whoosh.
Turning the corner I got a good look at the family and froze. What? Where on earth did these people come from, they looked like they should all be in the movies or modeling for celebrities. No way were they here for me, now I wish I wore something different to cover up my awkwardness. Bertha gently pushes me to the table and does the introductions. “Hello, how was the drive, not to long I hope?” “Oh, no, not at all, we are very excited to be here”, said Rosalie, the mom. Turning to face me Mrs. Henderson stood “I’ve been waiting so long to finally meet you”, she hugs me and I flinch not used to close contact. Pulling me at arm’s length she smiled a perfect smile saying “I’m so sorry; I just got so excited I reacted a little forward”. That’s ok, I said shaking hands with the Mr. Henderson and the son, Jonathan. “Well, let’s all sit and talk shall we?” Bertha gives me a smile and starts chatting it up with the parents about the paperwork, leaving me and the kid sitting there all awkward and quiet. “Can I be excused, I need to use the bathroom” “oh, sure go right ahead, were just talking about the paperwork”, said Bertha. Getting up I walked out of the room and continued to my spot in the greenhouse, my mind reeling.
Grabbing the water bucket I started to water the roses. They were in full bloom and the smell was intoxicating, I loved the aroma. Heading farther in I noticed a rose bush that wasn’t looking so hot, all of the petals were dead and the roses themselves had a rotting look to them. I immediately went to them and started pruning them with the pruning scissors Bertha bought me, taking out the dead ones and watering the pot. Looking around I started cleaning out the greenhouse and watering all the roses. Once I was done the green trashcan was overflowing with dead roses and trash, closing the bin I turned and walked straight into the kid, Jonathan. “Ah. Hey- watch it, wh- how did you get here?” I demanded bending over to pick up scissors. “Did one of the kids rat me out?” I accused. “No, I just got a little lost going to the bathroom”, he joked. I glared at him, and sat on the armchair unimpressed. Smile fading he scratched the back of his head and sat on the bucket next to me “okay that was a bad joke. Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood. Do you mind if I sit here”, he pointed to the bucket under him. Rolling my eyes I whispered, “Suit yourself”. Making a show of getting comfortable he asked, “So, why did you ditch us, were we to boring for you?” “No, I just see no point in making nice if