closes the door on the social worker who had delivered us. Svetlana is a very pretty brunette I guess to be somewhere in her early thirties. She has a thick foreign accent with hair and makeup that are perfectly applied. Her bright green eyes pop out from behind the right amount of eyeliner and mascara. She wears light blue capris and a white sweater that reminds me of old housewives in the 1950s. Although her husband is not home when we arrive, I get the feeling Svetlana could have been some kind of mail order bride to some rich old guy.
The spacious house our foster parents own sits high on a hill overlooking the ocean and is not far from the beach where the stolen cash remains safely locked away. From the front entrance you can see all the way across the clean and neat house to the other side, which is completely covered in glass windows overlooking the beach. The open layout reveals in one glance the best of everything; stainless steel appliances, plush leather couches, a huge flat screen television and ornate area rugs over marble floors. It is by far the nicest house I have ever even set foot in.
I am not consciously aware when I automatically take a step backwards.
Svetlana senses my withdrawal and gently yanks on my arm. “What is wrong, Tasha? It okay, I promise.”
I had given our aliases when questioned by the pretty, young social worker named Melissa at the sheriff’s station and didn’t give out many other details. Since they had no way to verify who we really are, we appeared briefly in front of a Judge who decided to place us in a foster home until we could be seen by another Judge for a more in-depth hearing. I had just been relieved when there was no mention of placing me in a detention center.
“This place is way too upscale,” I mutter, adjusting the new messenger bag on my shoulder. “We don’t belong here.”
“Your home is here,” she says, smiling warmly. She takes Rose’s new backpack from my hands and puts it on her own shoulder. Again she pulls on my arm, forcing me to either trail behind her or fall down on my face. I reluctantly give in with Rose holding tight to my other hand.
We walk through the house without speaking but our flip-flops snap in loud beats on the stone floor, the sound echoing all around us. Svetlana stops to open a large metal door, revealing a warm and spacious bedroom painted in a muted light blue. A giant bed in the center of the room is covered with a white fluffy comforter under a sea of ornate, brightly-colored pillows.
Rose drops my hand and runs into the room. “We are going to sleep here?”
Svetlana grins down at my little sister. “Yes, you stay here.”
Rose giggles happily and throws herself into the mass of pillows on the bed, lying still among them with a satisfied smile. “This is the most softest bed I’ve ever been in!”
Svetlana laughs, her voice making a pleasant ringing noise. I already like this woman and we had just met her for the first time at the sheriff’s office less than an hour ago. “Come with me. I show you where everything is.”
Svetlana leads us down a bright white hallway decorated with stunning prints of the ocean in black and white. She stops at the end to where a smaller but beautiful bedroom and bathroom are situated across from each other and tells me the room will be mine. I can’t get over how elegant and expensive everything inside the house appears to be.
I give Svetlana a grateful smile. “Your house is amazing.”
“You have to see best part!”
She leads us back to where the dozens of windows stretch across the room and opens the glass doors to a large stone patio. We walk past a massive outdoor kitchen that is situated beside a large glass-top table and a stunning stone fireplace. Everything looks like it is straight out of a home décor magazine.
“Does it snow here?” I ask, baffled by the need for a fireplace.
Svetlana chuckles. “We do not see snow. But it is cold sometimes for people
The spacious house our foster parents own sits high on a hill overlooking the ocean and is not far from the beach where the stolen cash remains safely locked away. From the front entrance you can see all the way across the clean and neat house to the other side, which is completely covered in glass windows overlooking the beach. The open layout reveals in one glance the best of everything; stainless steel appliances, plush leather couches, a huge flat screen television and ornate area rugs over marble floors. It is by far the nicest house I have ever even set foot in.
I am not consciously aware when I automatically take a step backwards.
Svetlana senses my withdrawal and gently yanks on my arm. “What is wrong, Tasha? It okay, I promise.”
I had given our aliases when questioned by the pretty, young social worker named Melissa at the sheriff’s station and didn’t give out many other details. Since they had no way to verify who we really are, we appeared briefly in front of a Judge who decided to place us in a foster home until we could be seen by another Judge for a more in-depth hearing. I had just been relieved when there was no mention of placing me in a detention center.
“This place is way too upscale,” I mutter, adjusting the new messenger bag on my shoulder. “We don’t belong here.”
“Your home is here,” she says, smiling warmly. She takes Rose’s new backpack from my hands and puts it on her own shoulder. Again she pulls on my arm, forcing me to either trail behind her or fall down on my face. I reluctantly give in with Rose holding tight to my other hand.
We walk through the house without speaking but our flip-flops snap in loud beats on the stone floor, the sound echoing all around us. Svetlana stops to open a large metal door, revealing a warm and spacious bedroom painted in a muted light blue. A giant bed in the center of the room is covered with a white fluffy comforter under a sea of ornate, brightly-colored pillows.
Rose drops my hand and runs into the room. “We are going to sleep here?”
Svetlana grins down at my little sister. “Yes, you stay here.”
Rose giggles happily and throws herself into the mass of pillows on the bed, lying still among them with a satisfied smile. “This is the most softest bed I’ve ever been in!”
Svetlana laughs, her voice making a pleasant ringing noise. I already like this woman and we had just met her for the first time at the sheriff’s office less than an hour ago. “Come with me. I show you where everything is.”
Svetlana leads us down a bright white hallway decorated with stunning prints of the ocean in black and white. She stops at the end to where a smaller but beautiful bedroom and bathroom are situated across from each other and tells me the room will be mine. I can’t get over how elegant and expensive everything inside the house appears to be.
I give Svetlana a grateful smile. “Your house is amazing.”
“You have to see best part!”
She leads us back to where the dozens of windows stretch across the room and opens the glass doors to a large stone patio. We walk past a massive outdoor kitchen that is situated beside a large glass-top table and a stunning stone fireplace. Everything looks like it is straight out of a home décor magazine.
“Does it snow here?” I ask, baffled by the need for a fireplace.
Svetlana chuckles. “We do not see snow. But it is cold sometimes for people
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