The Lost Dire Wolf Princess

My name is Maya. I never knew my parents. I will never know a mother's affection or a father's embrace. All that a parent can give a child is foreign to me. I was left at a hospital in Springfield, Mass, wrapped in a blanket with my name on it, and a gold necklace with a lotus flower charm around my neck. I know nothing about where I'm from. I don't even have a real last name. It's just Doe. I've been a foster child since I can remember. I've moved from home and group homes more than I can count. I was nothing but a paycheck to be made, or a built-in babysitter. Some homes were OK, but not enough to care about me or treat me like I mattered. When you turn eighteen, you leave the foster care system, and in two days, I'm no longer a ward of the state. It's my senior year, and I've applied to the top colleges for scholarships so that I'll have somewhere to go after I age out of the system. The cards I've been dealt have been literally s**t, but one thing I made sure of was to put in all I had to be a straight A student. I figured out young that my education was going to get me out of this town to start a better life for me. I needed to get away from that feeling of never belonging here where I was left. If only for a second, I could get lost in a world of endless imagination before I had to deal with reality. That's why I was always in a book learning, or writing. It's as if it was built into my DNA. The amount of information I can consume always astounds me. I was once tested and my results showed that I was a genius, and had a photographic memory unseen before. I have a month to decide which college I will attend. With my GPA being 4.5, it's enough to get into any school far away from this place. I've gotten full scholarships to Harvard, Princeton, and Yale, and so many others. I just don't know which one at this point. I guess it is because I actually have a choice, something I've never been given before. I work a part-time job at an ice cream shop on the weekends. I've saved up all my earnings for the last three years, so that if I get kicked out, I'll be OK till I get into a dorm room. "Maya," my foster mom yells from downstairs. "it's 7:45 am. You need to bring Matthew to the bus stop." "Of course, because your fat ass won't even walk a block," I said under my breath. "I'm coming." I shouted back. I grabbed my book bag and ran downstairs and grabbed Mathew's jacket. I helped him put it on, then we rushed out the door. Matthew was a foster child too. He was quiet and sweet, but behind those brown eyes, you could see all the pain of being left and discarded. I dropped Matthew off just in time. I'm running late, and hoping I don't miss the first bell. I live two blocks from the high school, so I should make it on time. Though, of course, luck is not on my side, the bell rings as soon as I touch the door. "s**t, I'm late," I whispered. I walk into math class, and although I'm never late, Mrs. Brown still gives me a stern look. She always quotes Elin Hildebrand. To be on time is to be late; to be late is to be forgotten. As for me, I've always been overlooked, so my being late would make no difference. It's not like anyone notices me. My skin tone is light brown, and I have one light brown eye and one green. When I was younger, I got picked on a lot for it, so as soon as I was old enough, I got contacts to cover up my green eye. I have full bow-shaped lips that I make a point to cover with my hands as much as possible. My hair is brown with hints of blond and curly down to my shoulders, but it's always in a bun. I wear a lot of oversized clothes, so my body doesn't show. I'm supposed to get a clothing check every three months, but I never see it. Most of my clothes come from thrift shops or hand-me-downs. I don't know why, but ever since I was young, I have made sure to stay out of the limelight, as if anyone ever noticed me, the real me, I would be in danger, so I never took pictures or allowed myself to be recorded on video. After math class, I make my way to English, which is my favorite class. We're reading A Mid-Summer Nights Dream by William Shakespeare. This play is one of my favorites. I've read it more than once, so I'm not even slightly worried about my last grade in this class. I spend most of the class looking out the window, thinking about how I can't wait to be free. I don't know why, but I always feel like there are parts of me that just want to burst out. I hate this shell of a person I am sometimes. The bell rings for lunch and breaks me out of my thoughts. I gather my things and make my way out of the classroom. As I walked on the highway, I heard. "Maya!" Capri was yelling and waving her arms, jogging towards me down the hallway. She was my best friend, my only friend. Capri is "5'8" with smooth milk chocolate skin, long dark brown hair, and brown eyes, with perfect full pink lips. She was a coke bottle vixen. I sometimes times called her Coco. Though despite us being from two completely different backgrounds. She didn't care where I came from or who I was. She was still my friend, and I loved her for that. Capri's parents are more than wealthy. She told me once that her family's wealth had been handed down through generations. Her mother is a doctor, and her father is a lawyer. Capri has the best parents. They support her and encourage her in everything she does. Sometimes, I think about what she has, and it makes me sad that I'll never have that kind of love and care. "Hey, girl, what's up," I said, smiling. "So I was thinking, since it's our senior year, you'd go to this party with me on Saturday," she says all in one breath. "Um, can you breathe," I say, laughing. "I'm serious, Maya, and it's your birthday too!" she started to shout. "Damn, you're loud." I grabbed her by the arm and moved us out of the way of another student's hearing. "I don't want anyone to know," I said in a low tone. " Okay, Okay!!!! "Damn girl, your grip is strong," Capri said while rubbing her arm. Especially Katrina Applegate, she always finds a way to embarrass me. Her parents run most of the school committees, and they own half of the town, so that means Katrina can do whatever she wants without anyone saying a thing, and knowing who her parents were, you would have a death wish if you did anything or went against her. "I'm just saying it's the last year of us being in high school and making memories," Capri says with a serious face. "Ugh, okay, okay." I told her with a sigh. "Thank you!" She jumps excitedly and hugs me. I smiled and hugged her back. We grab our lunch and chat about our classes and where we can go shopping for the party on my birthday. We finish lunch and then head to our last classes. At 2:30 pm, the bell rings for dismissal. I grabbed my things and made my way out to the hall. I saw Capri at her locker as I rushed by. I yelled, "I'm getting Matthew from the bus stop. Today is my day to get him. Call me when you get home." I made it just in time and got Mathew off the bus. "Hey buddy, how was school?" "It was fine," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. Sometimes I wish I could take his pain and sadness away. He deserves so much more than what this world has offered him thus far. As soon as we get home, I start making dinner. Side note: My foster mom can't cook for s**t. I learned to cook for myself, and I'm superb at it. I'm always trying something new or coming up with my own recipes. As I cooked, I helped Matthew with his homework. After we ate, I got Mathew ready for bed. I look at the time. It was getting late. I still had to clean up and do the laundry before my foster mom came home. I don't want to hear her yelling about how she opened up her home because nobody wanted us. The only reason she took me in was because I was older, and I could do what she didn't want to do. I cleaned the kitchen and finished the laundry. It was almost 8:30 pm, and I still needed to get my homework done. I learned early on to do as you are told. It was easier that way if you didn't want any problems. Some foster parents are just cruel and utterly disgusting. How some of them are even able to become foster parents after all this time is still hard to even wrap my mind around, how so many kids end up getting hurt even more in a system that was made to protect us. The front door opens, and it's my foster dad, Ron. He's 5'11' and dark as midnight, with a medium, stocky build, but with a beer belly that hangs over his belt buckle, his hairline is receding, and it looks like it's been that way for more than a while. His beard looks rough and dirty with bald patches and a few missing teeth you can see when he smiles. He works a lot, so I don't see him that often, which I'm extremely grateful for. He walks into the kitchen and in a low husky tone he says. "Hi Maya", with a sly smirk on his face. Hearing him say my name makes my skin start to crawl, and I almost gag from the smell that radiates off him from just stepping in the room. Since I met him, he's always given me this dreadful feeling that I should never be around him alone! When he is home, I sometimes catch him watching me. It makes me sick every time. So I do my best to always avoid him. He starts to move closer, and instantly, I get up. "I have to go do my homework goodnight". I said, as I ran up the back staircase that is connected to the kitchen, so I didn't have to worry about going anywhere near him to get to my room. As I got into my room, I quickly locked my door, then sat on my bed. As I take a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. "Two more days," that's all I keep saying until I calm down. I get all my homework done. I call Capri, and we talk on the phone for over an hour, telling her about my creepy foster dad, and how I can't wait to get out of here, and what we plan to do after graduation. After we say our goodbyes and hang up, I get myself ready for bed, and as soon as I hit the pillow, sleep instantly takes over.