"Piss off Jeffershit!" Frances yelled, helping Molly to her feet.

"Thanks," Molly said, standing up.

"You okay?" Frances asked her, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Molly said.

"I don't get why she does this, pushing my people around just so she feels better about herself," Margarita, one of Frances' best friends said.

"She did kill her parents," Frances reasoned.

"That's only a rumor," said Jillian, one of the other girls at the foster home said.

"And rumors only grow," said Molly, "now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go clean our room. And if you think I'm gonna start singing Hard Knock Life, you're gonna be pretty fucking disappointed."

"I'm gonna go help you," Frances said quickly.

"No, you're not," Ms. Schuyler said, stepping out from behind a wall. "This is the tenth fight you've been in this week. We need to have a talk.

"Okay," Frances said, having fully expected this.

"Follow me," Ms. Schuyler walked towards her office. Frances followed her, slightly scared.

"Frances," Ms. Schuyler said once they arrived in the office, "you're not in trouble. There's just someone that wants to meet you." She gestured to someone behind her.

"Hello," the man said, "I'm Thomas."

"Um. Nice to meet ya, I guess?" Frances said, confused as to why he was there.

"I'm going to adopt you," Thomas said.

"Why? There are plenty of other girls here. I heard that Mary Jeffersh- I mean Jefferson is a wonderful person," Frances said, trying to get Mary away from everybody else.

"I just want to adopt you," he said smiling.

"Molly Daniels is pretty amazing too," Frances suggested, ignoring him.

"Frances," Ms. Schuyler interrupter her, "Mr. Jefferson would like to adopt you. And you are going to go with him."

Frances raises an eyebrow and tried to figure out how to get out of this. "Willingly," Ms. Schuyler added.

Frances groaned. "When?"

"Right now," said Thomas.

"Do I at least get to say goodbye to my friends?" She asked him.

"No."

"Do I get to pack?"

Ms. Schuyler started to nod, but looked at Thomas, as he now had the authority over Frances.

He shook his head. "You'll get everything you need with me. Besides, I heard you don't have much." It was true. Frances only had the bear she had had since she was little and a couple pairs of clothes.

"Why can't I say goodbye to my friends?" she asked him, "they're like my family."

From his face she could tell that she had said the wrong thing. "We're leaving," he told her, "now." Thomas grabbed Frances by the wrist and pulled her out the door.

Frances ripped her arm away from his grasp. "I can walk by myself!" He raised an eyebrow but kept walking.

She followed him to the front of a van. Like the one that kidnappers use. "Get in," he said, not at all sounding like the kind man at the foster home.

"What if you kidnap me?" She asked, concerned.

"I already have legal custody over you. It's not technically kidnapping," Thomas claimed.

"What do you mean, technically?"

"He means that he can take you wherever he wants, even it's against your will," a man said, emerging from the van.

"And you are?" Frances asked.

"James," the man said, "I'm James."

"Okay," Frances nodded.

"Now get in the van," Thomas said gruffly.

Frances got in the van carefully, fully expecting there to be blood covered knives and dead bodies everywhere.

It was nothing like that. It was what you'd expect of a brand new van. It was almost perfectly clean and there were no bloodstains.

There was a body there though. A living body. A boy, no older than Frances was sitting in the floor of the van, writing in a notebook.

Frances heard the door close behind her. "Hey," she greeted the boy.

"Hello," he nodded and went back to writing.

Thomas and James got in the front of the van. Thomas in the driver's seat, James in the passenger's.

"So, where are we going?" Frances asked.

"Don't ask questions," Thomas stated.

"Why?" Frances asked, knowing it would annoy him.

"Just shut up," he told her.

She nodded, making the wise decision to keep her mouth shut. Just like the social worker had told her ten years prior. What was his name? Andy? Alex? Arnold? It didn't matter now. Just look to the future.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes until the van stopped in front of a large house.

"Your stop, Pip," Thomas stated.

The boy stood up and opened the van door. "Thanks, Mr. Jefferson," he said.

"No problem, kid," the boy, Pip got out of the van and closed the door behind him.

Once 'Pip' got out of the van Thomas turned to Frances. "That was Philip," he said, "Philip Hamilton."

Frances nodded, "okay."

"His dad's a pretty big deal," Thomas continued, "I used to work with him. Now I have this job. And I wouldn't change it for the world."

Frances shifts in her seat, not knows what she should say.

"Of course," he turned around to face her, "we have to find a job for you."

"Okay," Frances said, showing no emotion but secretly happy to be able to work. She want allowed to work while she was at the foster home. Apparently Ms. Schuyler couldn't let her take care of herself.

But of course, Frances knew work is why she was adopted. She had know that from the start. Mr. Jefferson just wanted her to work. Why wood you decide to raise a kid that can move out in a couple of years when you can get a three year old to raise their whole life?

"And I think I know the perfect job for you," Thomas smirked.

Frances didn't like the way his voice sounded. It was like she was going to have to kill someone. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"We'll tell you later," James said before Thomas could explain.

Frances nodded and continued to stare out the window for the rest of the ride. There was definitely something wrong when Thomas had said that he had the perfect job for her. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to hurt anybody that didn't deserve it.