I wait there for what feels like a half hour until the wooden door creaks open. A boy about 7 years old pops his head out.

"Are you the pizza man?" he asks, confused.

I chuckle, amused at this strange boy.

"No. I'm not. But I'll tell you what? If you help me get settled into the house, I'll buy you pizza," I say, trying to get in.

The boy looks at me for a second, then nods his head and opens the door. I step in, wiping my feet on the door mat. It's a pretty nice house. A small chandelier hangs above the clothed dining room table. A flat screen TV sits on a small table in the living room and large couches are spread out everywhere. An expanse of stairs lays over to the right of me, leading to somewhere unknown. Overall, I'll give the house an A for tidiness and decor. As for the foster family, I can't be sure how they are yet. But I know for sure these fosters are different than any I've had before.

I plop the suitcase down on one of the couches and place Leon on the arm rest. I then lift up the latches and pull out some paper work. I don't really carry much in my suitcase, but the things that are in there are very special and valuable to me.

A packet of paper work, which is the current papers for my new foster home, a too small and crumpled up black hoodie, some wet and dry cat food, a dish, a bottle of water, a change purse with money, and a small turtle necklace with matching earrings and bracelet. My mom had given them to me when I was young, hoping one day I'd like to get my ears pierced and wear the earrings. But I never did. Most girls my age would already have their ears done, but not me. I never got the chance. So I normally just wear the necklace and bracelet on special occasions, leaving the earrings at the bottom of my suitcase.

The money I normally receive from selling my art. I love drawing and sketching. I always wind up drawing on the paper work since I have no place else to doodle except for copy paper that I normally end up stealing from my past homes. I go around selling it since my foster parents normally don't lend me money too often, but I need to stay alive some how, right? I normally don't like to eat the stuff my foster families give me sometimes because I just don't want anything to do with them. I don't want to look at them, eat their food, drink their drinks, live in their house. I just want my mom, my mom who is now dead.

I look at my paper work now and observe the print. It's hard to read since I've doodled all over it in pencil. Oh well. I'll just erase it before I hand it to my new family.

I read the information:

Main Foster Guardian: Denise Roscia

I couldn't even pronounce the last name. Roshia? Rosco? Roccia? I don't know, but I'll figure it out eventually.

I continue to read:

Personal Information of: Denise Roscia

For all I know, she's married to Louis Roscia, has two kids named Toby and Scott, and now is taking me in as a foster in this house on Mulberry Court. I sigh. Fosters, fosters, and more fosters. It never ends. I look over at the boy who now is standing next to me, his brown locks of hair on his head falling in his face. I brush them away and ask, "What's your name?"

"Toby," he says softly as if he knows he shouldn't be talking to a stranger.

I smile back. "I'm Tiff. I'm going to live here a while, okay?" I don't know how else to say that to him, but I just talk to him as gently as possible.

The boy still looks a little unsure if he should be trusting me, but he nods his head and grabs me by the hand. As I grab my suitcase, Toby leads me up the stairs into the unknown, Leon at my heels.

The stairs are longer than I thought! At least three flights of them are in this one staircase. I'd hate to see how many lead to a basement or elsewhere. We climb two flights and walk down a hallway decorated with paintings and photos. I can see a man, a woman, two boys, including Toby, and a big black dog with glittering brown eyes. I wonder how Leon will get along with it. He's been around other dogs before, so he should be fine.

Toby opens a door and reveals a room painted lavender, a white furniture bed with soft pink sheets, a small vanity in the corner by a window, and a big, empty closet. I'm assuming this is my new room. I step in and take it all in. Comfortable, nice, and even a little roomy. I place my suitcase on the vanity stool and put Leon on the bed.

Toby tugs on my shirt. "Can I have pizza now?"

Well, I did promise him pizza, so I guess I owe him. I open my suitcase and pull out my change purse. "Do you know any pizzerias around?" I ask Toby.

Toby nods. "A pizza place down block," he says pointing towards the window.

"Alright. I'll be right back. I'll get a pie for both of us," I say. I still wonder where his parents are. I hadn't seen them since I entered the house. He's going to have to be alone for a few minutes while I pick up our lunch.

I close the bedroom door behind me, leaving Toby in there alone with Leon.