Knife's Edge

CHAPTER TWO

The walk back to my house from Wilson's café is a fairly short one, fifteen minutes maximum if all the traffic lights are working in my favour. A light breeze tickles the back of my neck as I walk and, after a few minutes, I loosen my hair from its ponytail for extra shelter.

The evening is oddly quiet, a stark contrast to the typical chaos that makes up Greencliff's town centre. There are no voices shouting or cars honking, no car doors slamming or sirens screeching in the distance.

It's a peaceful rarity that I savour as I stroll, my feet padding along the pavements in the direction of home. Even so, I hold my house key in my hand, prepared for the worst – the same thing do every time I walk home in the evening. In this town, you can never be too careful.

Thankfully, the only time I have to use my key tonight is to unlock my front door. As soon as I do, the peacefulness dissolves into the absolute carnage that consists of my family on a school night.

"Bailey, Owen, Oscar! I still need your school clothes!" Stella practically screams as she walks out of the kitchen to shout up the stairs.

There's no reply other than the sound of music blasting even louder from one of the rooms upstairs. I don't have to go and check to know that it's coming from Bailey's room; Bailey's had the whole rebellious act going on for as long as we've lived here.

In fact, I'm still shocked that Stella and George – her husband – even agreed to take the troubled child on in the first place. Most people wouldn't have.

"Bailey, turn the music down!" Stella screams up the stairs, and it's quite clear that she's reaching her limit of bullshit-from-the-kids for one day. "Owen, Oscar!"

"Okay, okay, jeez! Hold on!" Owen calls back over the sound of Bailey's music.

"I've asked five times now!" Stella replies, her blue eyes blazing with annoyance.

There are currently six of us living in this house. Stella and George Crawford, who occupy a bedroom next to the kitchen, and the four of us foster kids shared between the three bedrooms upstairs.

It's not bad, not at all, and I'm grateful every day for everything that Stella and George have done for us. There aren't many people willing to take in so many kids under one roof, and there's no denying it can be difficult at times, but they do it anyway – for us.

Stella found out when she was only twenty-two that she would never be able to have children of her own and, as raising a family had been her lifelong dream, it had left her heartbroken. The situation was made all the worse when her fiancé at the time left her because of it. Luckily for Stella, it all turned out okay in the end. If none of that had happened, she would've never had the chance to meet George.

George is one of us, a foster kid now grown into a fully-fledged middle-aged man – proof to all of us that things can, and will, get better. He never wanted kids of his own, determined that he would become a foster parent like the incredible ones he was so lucky to be placed with.

He met Stella and, well, they never looked back.

They took in Charlotte, Bailey and I – the three half-sisters with a troubled past. They wanted us all, deciding it would be better for us if we were allowed to stay together. Next came along Owen, I was about eleven at the time. Then, shortly after, Oscar arrived.

Despite living here we still have to check in with our social worker, Karen, from time to time. It's mainly just so she knows how we're all getting along – that Stella hasn't gotten so fed up with asking for school uniforms that she's murdered us all in our sleep. So far, thankfully, that hasn't happened.