Dumping ground

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4th home in 2 years, 5 months 10 minutes and 20 seconds, 21seconds,22. 4th time  moving. I continued I listing different facts as my social worker, a hell beast on earth, turned around offering a smile, one that I didn't return. We had arrived.
A clambered out of the car and surveyed my new home, a crimson sign staring up at me with the words Ashdene ridge engraved in the wood. As I continued examining an old man came up to me his hand outstretched. Hesitiantly I shook his hand as he introduced himself.
Mike his name. Head caretaker. Read my file. The words flew over my head as I attempted to follow what he was trying to say.
" I'll take you to my office so we can discuss somethings"
He wants me to follow him.
Slowly I placed one foot I front of the other, closing the space between me and the building.
I would've run, I wanted to run so bad, to escape the constant cycle. To find my brother, live with him, but I was trapped, Mike in front and my social worker behind.
Stepping inside was how I expected it to be. The faces of my new housemates staring at me, squished between stair rails or peeping over someone's shoulder, watching my every move. Like I said, no escape.
The office was nice, plain, simple and as I sat down in the chair facing Mike I was relieved at the simplicity.
" So tell me about yourself" he asked
My eyes darted up, " you read my file" I muttered under my breath.
Sadly this answer didn't satisfy him and he pressed for more information " it says you like ballet, right?"
I didn't even answer this time, letting my social worker fill him in on my ballet, how I would be attending the royal ballet school for studies from Monday to Saturday, 8:30-5:30. After a few more minutes of attempted interrogation he told me I could head to dinner.
As I moved out of the room, I turned around, finally meeting Mike's eyes asking a question.
" Can Grant visit?"
With a slight nod of the head, he answered my question.
Now to face the mob.
How fun.

~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~

When I entered the dinning hall I was bombarded by questions, which when you haven't eaten for a while can be quite overwhelming. A short lady ( I think Mike might have mentioned her, she is called something like May-li) silenced the rambling of everyone while handing me a plate full of lasagna and vegetables. She offered me a small smile before making away for me to sit down.
She looked at the kids surrounding the table, all their eyes pointed at me, " one question at a time ok" and with that began washing the dishes, leaving me to fend of the inquirers of a bunch of children.
One of them, a girl around my age, was the first to ask " I am Tee, what's your name?"
Without looking up, " Robin"
" how old are you"
"15"
Another girl joined in " do you have any  siblings?"
My fork piled with the meaty pasta combination halted a few inches from my mouth, hovering, as I picked up my eyes slowly.
I was fine with asking questions about me but when it came to my past I draw a line, one which that girl had just crossed. Pushing back my chair I stood up leaving the dinning hall, but I still heard May-li answer the questioning looks to my exit with a simple " She doesn't like talking about her past"
And with that I ran upstairs, following the directions to my new room.
I didn't bother closing the , before the tears overwhelmed me forcing me to the far corner of my room, taken with tears.

Sorry if it is horrible just please continue reading and give me feedback. If you have any ideas
For who could play robin pleas let me know.
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