Handling the Harling Boys

Meeting the Family *1*

Life at Social Services isn't all its cracked up to be. Moving around in foster care. Going to a different school every week or so, it's just not fun. So when Mrs. Anthony called me to her office the morning of the 17, I was surprised.

"Good morning Bae. Please take a seat." She turned in her old leather chair that looked maybe 50 years old. Maybe she had bought it when she began to work here. Her face dropped in places and was wrinkled in others. She had liver spots on her hands and her glasses were thick. I'd imagine she was born a hundred years ago, thought I doubt it. She held a red coffee mug out to me but I declined with a shake of my head.

"As you have noticed, we are a little full here. There isn't much space left in any of the houses. So we are trying to get the younger children in first." She typed something into her dinosaur of a computer. Maybe she was pulling my records. "We don't have much of a choice and have pursued the choice your father had made to leave you with. Usually the court would send someone in your circumstances right over, but seeing as how he already has ten children, we weren't sure he would be capable of taking on the responsibility. He is a single father after all. We interviewed him and the children and even had an inspection done on the place. We have decided he will now take you into care. You will need to pack your few belongings, someone will be here shortly to pick you up." She turned to the screen again, leaving me to absorb the information. For the second time in six months I would have to change my life drastically. I would have to prepare to live in another strangers' home with his ten sons. I would have to learn to open up again. And most of all I would have to learn to share. There was bound to be some kids that were my age. And as wealthy as they might be there is eleven of them, they don't really need one more.

This was it though. The new beginning I was looking for. The chance to start all over again and be whoever I wanted to be. I could make up who I was. I could shape who I became. I wasn't limited by my parents anymore. I'm sure this guy would be the same as all the foster parents I had lived with. I would be sought to take after myself, if not a couple other kids. I would pretty much be aloud to do anything I wanted to because people would feel sorry for me.

A Yellow taxi pulled up near the front entrance of the building. I picked up my things, waved to Marge, the desk manager, and went out the doors for the last time in my life.

"Miss Deaton?" The Indian man in the front seat asked. I nodded.

"Please, get in. We are to arrive at the Harling home in only an hour." He said with his thick Indian accent. I opened the back door and climbed in.

"Mr. Harling is paying for this, right? Because I can't really afford this." I ask.

"Of course. He said not to worry about anything. Just relax." He told me. I slump down in my seat, close my eyes, and plug into my Ipod. Before I know it I am fast asleep.

I wake up to a rush of light and a chilling breeze. I open my eyes a bit and see the figure of a 6-foot-something man. He was darkish from what I could tell. Dark hair. Olive complexion. But his eyes were light. Blue or green maybe. Perhaps even a hazel. I open my eyes even further and let the daylight collect in them. The man has aged quite a bit from when I first took a look at him. His eyes have smile wrinkles. His forehead wrinkles as he smiles. He has a nice smile though. His hair is a light black, almost brown. His eyes are a dull blue, maybe they are considered gray. I assume this is Mr. Harling himself.

"Bae?" I nod and climb out of the taxi, turning down the music as I go.

"Hi. It's so nice to have you. I'm Chandler Harling. Your dads friend. May he rest in peace. I'm so sorry for your loss. Welcome to my home though. They boys are out running errands and things. So for now you have the house to yourself. I will take you to your room, but I have to leave in fifteen minutes. I apologize."