Luella

01 | eighteen

"Luella," Cecilia, my manners and behaviour tutor since I was a newborn, called. I turned and stopped to smile at her in greeting.

"Good morning,"

"Morning, hun," She said sadly in her husky voice as she swept a faded strand of brown hair out of her face, trying to return my smile. "Listen, she found out you were up late and she wants you at her office by noon."

I rolled my eyes. "I-"

"Lu," My mentor scowled. "Do not roll your eyes."

"Sorry, Ce." I sighed. "But you know what she's doing, right?"

Cecilia smiled fondly. "Trying to scoop up the last bits in the bowl."

I grinned, almost giggling. "But the bowl is empty, won't she ever be full?" I hissed in amusement. Cecilia almost smirked but pursed her lips.

"Come on, you know she'll miss you." The old woman teased.

I chuckled. "Right,"

"Everyone will miss you around here," my second mother says with an air of sentimentality.

I shake my head. "Save that. Save all that for tomorrow; it'd be way more effective and dramatic. I want a pot full of salty tears to keep as a souvenir."

I was smacked on my bum as I laughed genuinely at her teased expression, not failing to acknowledge the smile that grazed her thin lips.

"Okay, you little brat," she emphasized. "Dress into something presentable, and don't piss off the boss or you'll be the one in the pot."

I grinned as I walked away from her, saluting her playfully. "Yes, sir!"

"Voice down!" She shushed and I laughed.

The woman has been by my side since day one. Literally. She was the one who cut my habit of biting my nails, promised my hair would grow bugs if I don't comb it regularly, told me tooth fairies are bullshit, and that smacking gum with an open mouth is just purely disgusting.

She basically brought me up. She was a mother when I didn't have one. And I swore that this place would have been absolute hell without her.

11:42AM

Entering the grand room of most girls, I closed my eyes in irritation. Why do foster parents leave the noisy ones? To irritate me? Because it's working.

This room was one of a kind; it was the only one with beds in it. Well, except from the permanent maids that have spare mattresses in a much smaller room than this. All the beds that the girls used for sleeping were bunk beds - with all the white sheets and pillows, the white losing its color to much more of an off-white or even a faint yellow.

My bed has never been one on the actual ground, I've always taken the very upper bunk to sleep in. I was already too accustomed to change anything now.

I walked to the small dresser beside the beds and opened it, taking my only 'presentable' clothes that I own, which were my worn-out and faded jeans that have wide ankles to cover half of my feet when I wear them, and a simple yellow short-sleeved tee, even though we're in September, but who cares?

I hate yellow.

However, I've only worn that outfit about only a couple of times. One was when the inspector from the gorvernment administration office paid us a visit last year and Margaret had to force one of the maids to go out and buy me and a couple of other girls something as good and big enough to fit, since all these girls are dressed in my clothes and whoever was here before me and/or had left.