"Eli! You have to wake up! NOW!" Mr. Jackson yells. I slowly get up. What the heck is so important? I wonder. I turn in my hard, old bed to look at the clock. 6:15 a.m! 'What the crap?!'
"God, what's the big deal?" I ask him. Mr. Jackson is a tall, skinny man wearing oval-shaped glasses. He's the 'boss' around here, so to speak. This is really an orphanage. Its the only one in town, really. Its a three-story building, but its always jammed tight with new kids or ones that are too old for anyone to want anymore. Like me. No one wants a 14-year-old boy that desperately needs a haircut for my burnt orange hair, or is too thin to have that 'cute' quality that everyone's looking for, or my dual-shaded eyes(wearing an eye patch doesn't help, but I still wear it over my left eye), or a kid that's completely 'insane' because I have panic-induced hallucinations. Basically, for obvious reasons, I've given up on being adopted. 'I wonder if I'm getting kicked out because of the last home.' "Eli," Mr. Jackson announces excitedly,"someone called in that wants to adopt you!" Silence, for a long time. Is he serious? He has to be joking! Who in their right mind wants to adopt me?!
"Pack up, we're heading outside of town!" Mr. Jackson says before dashing out of my room, probably to get my health records. I don't know why, though. I'm not allergic to anything, and I don't have a blood disease of any kind. Maybe its just a precaution, I've never asked. I look around. My room is about 8 feet wide in all directions, and only has a bed, a toilet, and a mirror. The walls are the same as every other room in this place: an off-white, creamy color. While not really ugly by any means, I wish they'd change it from time to time. The only things I own are a toothbrush, my eye patch, and a photo from the hospital where I was born. On it is a beautiful woman with deep blue eyes and curly red hair holding me as a newborn. Next to her is a tall, broad-shouldered man I assume to be my dad. He has chocolate-brown hair and intense, jade-green eyes. They're both around 20 in that picture. Mr. Jackson says that they left me here because they couldn't take care of me. I love to believe that its true, but I sometimes have doubts. Yawning, I walk over to the mirror and look at my eyes. The right a brilliant blue, the left a piercing black. I don't mean dark brown, I really mean black. Its always kind of scared people, like I'm cursed or something. Everyone in town knows about it. But Mr. Jackson said that we're going outside of town. I pull out my eye patch and wrap it securely around my left eye. I turn back to my bed and pull on my 'work boots', as Mr. Jackson calls them. I tie them and put my photo in my pocket. Then I walk to my room door and take a deep breath.
"Here we go," I sigh, and open my room door. Immediately, kids whose age rank from 3 to 12 swarm around me, hugging me and saying they'll miss me. Its funny. I'm the oldest kid there. I kind of take it as my responsibility to give all the new kids a good welcome. I help them resolve fights, and I hug them when they cry because they feel unloved and unwanted. So we're like a big family. That makes Mr. Jackson both proud and happy with me.
"I'll miss you guys while I'm gone! But I'll probably back in about a week," I tell them. One of them, a girl named Angel, says,
"But you might finally get adopted and have a real family!" I look at her. I can't help but feel proud. She's come a long way. From the shyest girl around to everyone's best friend.
"You guys are my family. Even if I do get adopted, I'll visit whenever I can," I say. They say goodbye one more time before watching me go outside and into Mr. Jackson's car.
The drive has been silent as the buildings turn to trees, and the tightly packed apartments turn to smaller, further between houses. Finally I break the silence.
"Who are they?" I ask.
"Who?" Mr. Jackson asks back absent-mindedly.
"The people adopting me."
"Oh! Oh, well I believe he introduced himself as Freddy Fazbear. You are going to be living with him and his brothers and sister. I think he said something about having a twin brother as well, but I was too excited to listen very well."
"Then do you know where we're going?"
"He told me the address and I wrote it down, so don't worry. Eli, you need to at least try this time, okay?"
"Thank you. You don't know just how mature and handsome you've gotten since you first arrived at the orphanage, do you?"
Are his glasses working? The last thing I'd call myself is handsome! The car stops in front of a 2-story house that's painted green. Well, at least its big. And the paints my favorite color. Maybe...this place might work out. Maybe that's wishful thinking, maybe its denial. Probably the latter. I've told myself that a lot.
"I'll miss you, Eli," Mr. Jackson says. I can't help but smile.
"I'll miss you too," I reply before getting out of the car. Mr. Jackson pulls out of the driveway, leaving me alone. In the silence, I can faintly hear music. I take a deep breath and walk into the yard and up to the front door, which is a familiar off-white color. It takes several minutes and a lot of nerve to knock. But I still don't.
'Come on, you can do this! You can't just stand here until nightfall!' I take several breaths, and knock. The music stops. I hear someone coming to the door. I feel anxiety rush through me, and it stays there instead of leaving like it usually does.
"Hello?" A deep voice calls out. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My face flushes and I look down. The voice calls out again.
"Who is it?" I start to breathe in and out to calm myself down. In...out...in...out. Finally I answer.
"Is this the Fazbears house?" I ask quietly, almost a whisper.
"Yes. Who is this?" I feel frustration surge through me. I'm being such an idiot! I answer shyly.
"E-eli...from the orphanage...you called, didn't you?" I hear people gasp excitedly on the other side of the door. I hear the door unlock. Then it swings open. Standing there is a tall, broad-shouldered man in his early twenties. Probably about 21 or older. He has dark brown hair and blue eyes. I notice that he's wearing brown pants, a brown shirt, and brown sneakers. I accidentally say what I'm thinking.
"Well, its no mystery what your favorite color is!" I mentally slap myself. The man stares for a second. Then he grins and laughs. I hear people laughing inside, too. The man, I assume he's Freddy, grabs me by the arm so suddenly I almost flinch. Then he pulls me inside. The living room is big, with two couches and a flat screen TV. There's a fireplace at the far end, which I'm thankful for, because its winter. Standing at the end of the room is a group of teenagers that are grinning at me.
"These are my younger siblings. Foxy, Bonnie, and Chica. My brother Goldie should be-" I interrupt him.
"What kind of name is Goldie?"
"That's his nickname. He and I basically have the same name. We're identical, but he has gold colored hair, so we call him Goldie." I nod, and he continues.
"He's probably in his room. Guys, make him feel at home while I go get him, alright?" They all nod vigorously, and he runs upstairs. There's silence for a little while, then one of the boys, the one with red hair(not kidding. Red hair) and yellow eyes grins and holds out his hand.
"Foxy," he introduces himself, then points at another boy with purple hair and red eyes."That's Bonnie, and that's Chica," he points at a blonde girl with blue eyes. She waves, then her eyes widen.
"Crap! The food!" She exclaims, then runs into a room that I guess is the kitchen. Bonnie grins. Then we hear a crash from upstairs, and Freddy yelling.
"JESUS CHRIST, WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM?!" And then a voice a little deeper than his yells back.
"WE'RE NOT BRINGING IN SOMEONE THAT'S NOT FAMILY! YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THAT!"
"HE WILL BE FAMILY! DO YOU THINK ANYONE ELSE WILL WANT HIM?!" For some reason, that stings. Foxy looks at me.
"Stay here," then he and Bonnie run upstairs. Deciding to stay out of it, I walk into the kitchen. Chica is pulling a pan of spaghetti off of a stove eye. She looks at me and smiles.
"Don't worry about Goldie, he just needs to get used to you. He's a great guy, when you get to know him," she says cheerily. I nod. We're both quiet for awhile. Then I say,
"You know, I think we should bake a cake for after supper." She grins when I say that.
"Good idea. Come on, this'll be fun." I grin, then feel a surge of sadness, and the smile drops.
'Don't get comfortable. This is going to end just like every other home. You'll screw it up somehow.. You always do.'
"Are you okay?" Chica asks. Pushing the thought away, I smile and help her get the ingredients out.