Careful; I might Bite. [A Werewolf Romance]

Careful; I might Bite. - Chapter Two -

I really did wonder why on earth the Harfields would want to foster someone like me. A teenager, at the least. With attitude issues and bad history? Either they were bribed by the Social Services or these factors didn't matter to them. Which, I suppose, turns in my favour. Right?

             The timing was odd, in a way; literally one day after my 'This is my last chance,' epiphany, Steph notified me that somebody was interested. Immediately skipping the option to meet them before anything was arranged, I agreed and then walked off. Don't worry, ya don't need to tell me twice - I probably should have gotten to know them first. I guess I was so wrapped up in my own emotions that any opportunity was perfect.

             I'm not going to screw this up. I'm not going to screw this up. Maybe if I say it enough, it might come true. Like with Dorothy's magical red shoes; there's no place like home. Hah ... home. Where's that? Ugh, this is the exact feeling I didn't want to still have to deal with. I mean ... I'm not ... I'm still me. I deserve a chance to be normal.

             A warm sensation inside my body, flaring upwards to the surface, reminded me that I wasn't born to be like everybody else. The heat, representing the creature inside, also believed I should be proud. Sometimes, I listened to what it felt and gloried in the fact that, despite all that's happened, I'll never be alone. Non-physically. The other half of me hated the reason that I had to be here in the first place.

            "Would you like a drink, Miss Walters? Ruby?" I blinked a few times before realising that we had entered an elaborate kitchen-unit. My thoughts had distracted me from actually paying attention to the house that I would be living in. I denied Mr Harfield's offer.

           "Please, call me Steph. And, no thank you, I must be heading off. Duty calls. I'll be round to check up on how the arrangement is going now and then, but aside from that," Her gaze turned to me, a faint sign of wetness bordering her eyes. "Goodbye, Ruby. I hope things go well. And you'll always have me to talk to." Well, I'll be damned, she's actually gonna miss me. Her arms embraced me in a short sweet, hug before heading for the door, brushing invisible dust from her pinstripe trousers. She dressed like a Social Worker, but behaved like a mother figure.

            A small tug on my sleeve alerted me to the daughter, Gillian, looking up at me. She giggled, followed by another weak tug. Having no real experience with children, I knelt down to her level awkwardly and used my best conversational skills.

              "Hello."

              "Hi," Two dimples appeared as her infectious smile widened. "Your name is really pretty." The compliment triggered a blush on my face.

              "Um, thankyou."

              "Mummy says that you're my new sister. Does this mean I can trade my brother in to that lady?" Jay spun around, narrowed eyed and playfully stuck his tongue out at Gillian. Hah!

                I like this kid.

                                 ~~*~~

"Do you like it?"

                    The bedroom consisted of deep purple walls, shining wooden shelves and drawers, a large bay-window and above all; an expensive looking soundsystem that I was trying not to drool over. Normally, I'm not a material kinda woman. But, for this baby? I could definately make an exception.

                    "I chose the colour." Gillian beamed at me, clinging onto my right hand. She had insisted that we take a tour of everything 'important' in the house - that included the Play Room, crammed with all entertainment known to man; the Kitchen refridgerator, covered in imaginative drawings, from top to bottem; and her own room, in all of it's pink, girly, fluffy glory.

                     "A wise choice." I chuckled, sharing a side-glance with Mrs Harfield. She absent-mindedly tucked a stray curl of hair behind her daughter's ear, smiling.

                    "Beep beep, Ladies! Heavy stuff coming through." Jay bellowed, squeezing his way through the gap between us. With an overeactive heave, he dumped my bag onto the mattress, then ran his fingers through the mop of black that sat upon his head.

                       "Ignore Jay. He's got poopie for brains." Gillian tutted.

                       "I have not!"

                       "Alright, break it up you two. I'm sure Ruby will want to settle into her room before dinner. We'll be downstairs, hun. C'mon Gill! I thought you said you were gonna help Mummy set the table!" Seline took the little girl's hand from mine, leading her down the corridor. Gillian leant back on her heels, a dangerous frown on her rosey features. It reminded me of ... well, me.

                         "Cheeky, but you get used to her." Jay laughed, sitting on the edge of my bed. I smirked, burying my hands into my jean pockets, "I think she's cute."

                        "Too cute. Underneath, lies an evil mastermind." His already deep voice creeped lower on the word 'evil'. Aw, what? No insane laughter?

                         "Me and her will get along great then." He raised an eyebrow at my comment. I dismissed it - me and my goddamn mouth.

                        "So, how long you been in care for?" The bluntness of the question was a mild shock. However, I would prefer that to people tip-toeing over the bad bits. The sympathetic looks can really rile me up. The warmth in my chest still persuaded me to be careful though.

                        "About three years. Give or take a few months." I replied, in-different to the personal subject. He nodded, almost as if in deliberation. The old me would probably have flipped him off and chucked him out by now. But, hey, I'm gonna be sharing a manor with these people. Questions are bound to pop up somewhere.

                       "Well, I welcome you to our home, come hang with me whenever you like, yadda yadda yadda." He stretched, arching his back, like a cat. Oh, come on, my bag wasn't that hard to drag up the staircase. Standing up, he sauntered towards the door, whispering one sentence before he left.

                       "The lads will love you when we get to school. Good luck, sweetie." That egotistical, son of a - wait, what?

                      Ah, crap.