*this story contains content which may be offensive to others, such as: Christians, Athiests, young readers*

*Harley's pov*

"Baby, dinner's ready!" My joyful mam alerted me from the bottom of the grand staircase. I was in a bit of a sticky situation as I wiggled my toes, hoping the nail polish would dry quicker with the more movement. I stumbled up from my bed, nevertheless, and rested my feet on the heels as I began to stride through the hallway. I gradually made it to the staircase, attempting to hop down each and every step along the way. Once I got downstairs, I decided to risk smudging my masterpiece as I began walking normally into the kitchen.

"Hm, smells good." I observed, watching my father stand at the hot stove as he plated the tomato pasta into the dishes. He had a secretive smile plastered across his face, and it made me hesitate in what he was smiling about. But before I could question his sudden happiness I soon felt a slight spank to my bottom, that being my mother as she tried to scoot me out of the kitchen.

"Go to the dining table, I don't need you wandering around here." She murmured with a slight laugh, smiling to herself innocently as she turned herself around to grab a few knives and forks. "Go on, lay the table."

I wondered again, why were they smiling to secretively? Like they knew something I didn't? If they were planning on throwing me a surprise birthday party then they were a couple of months early. But I put those thoughts aside as I swiftly left the kitchen and made my way into the dining room. I grabbed various napkins, placing them over the table cloth along with the cutlery. And seconds after I sat down my parents were barging through the door quickly, giggling to themselves before placing each dish out to me and themselves.

We all were sat at the table, being to good old family that we were. I was still confused as to why they were acting so happy around me suddenly. Maybe one of them got a raise? They both worked at the same place, so I wouldn't be surprised.

"Why are you both smiling like that?" I observed. "You never smile."

My father's grin turned into a smirk, leaning his head down as he deviously kept everything to himself. I turned my gaze to my mother, who sheepishly smiled at me before placing her fork back down to the table, "Harley, I think it's time you found out-"

"Are we moving?" I asked excitedly. Hopefully, we could move out of dreadful Wales and move somewhere a bit nicer, like somehwere in England, maybe.

"Let me finish my sentence, please," mother said kindly, trying to keep her smile when she was clearly annoyed at my interruption. "We had a call today."

"From school?" I interrupted once more, enthusiasm taking over me. I had been waiting for a call from my English teacher Mrs Valentine. I'm the best in my class, and I was waiting for her to write my reference for University. She's my favourite teacher, and hopefully I'm her favourite student.

"No, not from school," she answered with delight, causing me to frown in disappointment. "It was from the FCA."

"Who?" I asked in confusion, getting a little scared at that title. It sounds like something involved with the government. Were my parents secret agents or something? No, of course they weren't, they're boring.

"The foster care associates?" my father hummed to me with a confused expression. Oh, the foster care association. My mam and dad fostered someone before, and ever since the association had been calling them non stop, asking them if they wanted to foster more. I guess you can say I've had a few 'siblings' the past ten years.

"You're fostering again?" I sighed in exhaustion. "I thought you were done with that."

"Well, we thought we were done with it too, until we heard his story." mam said along with a shrug. Oh, great. Here comes a life story- wait, his? as in he? A boy?

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