Uprooted (COMPLETED)

1| The Smell of Blooming Roses and New Beginnings

Sierra's POV

I felt a pinch around my wrist, "I can't believe you got kicked out of another home. The families I set up for you are good people. This one is too. Now behave yourself. God Sierra, I don't know what to do with you." Diana, my social worker complained, dragging me to the front door of a new foster home.

She knocked on the door for me then released my hand that left a red ring like Saturn around my small tattoo. I rubbed my stinging skin to hide away the slight pain. Diana used to be so kind and warm, but like me, the foster care system had changed her for the worse. "And hide that before they see it and assume you're some miscreant." I reluctantly slid my maroon sleeve over my wrist and let my ring and middle finger hold it in place.

Beside me ivy and ferns grew through the crevices of the concrete that framed the front door of the structure. The exterior of the home was large, years ago I would have been intimidated by its size, but now it was simply a bigger canvas to rip to shreds. It was two stories of gray wood and stone. A huge chimney peeked out of dark blue roof like a newly sprouted oak tree.

I listened to the the delicate marble fountain beside the concrete stairs that lead to the door. Its soft gurgles of the clear water should have sounded relaxing, but instead I tensed as footsteps overcame the sound,  disturbing the silence. The night seemed to close in on me like a familiar blanket of unknown.

A beautiful woman opened the chestnut door with a gleaming smile. In a brief moment I was struck by her protuberant brown eyes. They sagged slightly with age, but her cheeks didn't reveal any more than a faux blush. Her cheekbones were prominent on her light face, they were gaunt really. There was a softness in her voice, "You must be Sierra! Please come in."

A man approached behind her, carrying the same expression, "Thank you Diana for your service. She'll be in good hands for as long as we can have her." His eyes shone similar, but the woman's were inviting while his showed nothing behind those wooden eyes.

She lifted a stray tendril of blonde hair behind her ear, gently brushing her cheek as she did so. Her other hand reached out to shake mine, "I'm Stormie, this is Mark, nice to meet you." I promptly ignored her arm, hauling in my backpack, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. Wow they put on quite a show for Diana.

"Can we just skip all the formalities? I won't be here long so I'd like to just a little sleep, you mind pointing the direction of the beds?" I glanced around to get a view of the house. It was very specious and filled with momentos of their little family.

She seemed taken aback, "Um, sure, of course, you're tired. Your bed is upstairs next to Ross's room. I suppose you can meet him in the morning, but as long as you're here we'd like you to attend school along with him. Please wake up at 7:30. What grade did you say you're in?"

"I didn't," I huffed, following my way to the stairs. Most of the other foster parents never made me go to school, what's up with these lunes? I nodded to myself. I'll have to be out by morning.

"Would you mind telling us then?" She began up the screeching stairs behind me. I noticed that the only mess in the house was the dirty footprints my boots had left in my wake. I shrugged. Oh well.

"I'm a senior." I responded and she returned by explaining their son was also a senior. Lucky me. "Well I'm burnt out, I think I'll find the bedroom myself. Good night." I brushed them off, what did it matter? I wouldn't even last a day in this happy-go-lucky house anyway.

The upstairs consisted of 2 bedrooms and 1 bathroom. Pretty stupid if you ask me to have another floor just for 3 rooms.

I turned the squeaky knob into one of the bedrooms. It was dark, the walls were a shade of blue that reminded me of the foaming sea. It was quite unfurnished for a spare room, but most foster homes I'd been to didn't even have a room, just a cot or a blanket for the floor. Samples of paint sloppily dried on the wall and a white crib creaked in the corner. I began unpacking my things on the bed, there wasn't much to unpack: my cellphone, laptop, chargers, a few pens and pencils and a small journal.

Some of my belongings fell onto the beige carpet of the guest room. A crease formed on my forehead as I flipped open my journal and placed myself on the window sill. Fiddling with the window's lock I climbed onto the roof that was a step away from the glass. Huddled in the night's breeze I took in the backyard, it was quite beautiful. There was a paved path that had been punctuated with weeds underneath every rock and stone. Wild, unwanted plants grew between the mustard colored bricks that aligned the way to a overbearing tree. Its branches swung shadows on the grass with cascading twigs that bounced like ringlets in my mother's hair. Each bough was knotted and drooped dankly. The denuded limbs were artistic yet carefree and fell onto each other randomly. The flower beds were riots of vibrant colors with clusters of defiant daffodils and greenery that reared their heads amongst the smatters of fuchsia and fiery buds of growth. The disheveled grass was overgrown and unmanicured. In the tree's dark cast it appeared more like moss in the squished ground. The shaggy leaves were sharpened blades, but I could already imagine with the sun's rise the caterpillars would munch happily on their feast. The yard had been lined with a deep, rough wood that seemed to grow with the ivy and cascaded along its fence into uncared for tendrils that whipped in the breeze. My eyes were fixated on the rich colors of the roses that were scatted in circular central beds. They were overdeveloped iridescent jungles of thorns in tangled thickets and messy hawthorn. I glanced down at my tattoo of a rose that crept up my wrist and matched it to the garden with a slight smile. It some odd way, I enjoyed nature's chaos and it fueled my writing. I sketched out the garden carefully and let my pencil glide across the paper in masses of words.

"Just a few more months Mom and I'll be long gone," I sighed.

Author's Note: I had a different idea for a book and decided to run with it. This book may be a little controversal so read at your own risk. Hope you enjoy what is to unfold! My other book is on hold while I pursue this one. Sorry for the confusion, enjoy :)