When I wake up I automatically know it’s happened again, I haven’t even opened my eyes yet but I know that a doctor is standing at the monitor to my right and the person who runs the foster care system is standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe her arms crossed on her small chest. This is how it works every time, it’s kind of like being in a déjà vu moment because the same thing happens as soon as I wake up every time.
    “How does this keep happening to you Krista?” Brisa asks me she uncrosses her arms and walks toward my when she sees me open my eyes, she sits down in the chair beside my hospital bed, putting her elbows on the arm rests her hands coming back in to hover over her legs. She leans forward; “You realize how this makes my company look, right?” I nod, it’s better just to agree with her then carry on the conversation for five years, I learned the hard way.
    “Then why won’t you just get along with you foster families, they can’t see the real you if your constantly fighting with them. Krista,” she pauses for a mere second. “Your fifteen years old, you need to find a family that will adopt you so you have a family when your older,” just as I open my mouth she talks again. “You’re the only person in you family who survived the plane crash, you need to realize how lucky you are to still be alive and take advantage of the opportunity to do something good with your life.”
    Why does she always have to bring that up? I think to myself. My family when I was five where on a plane and there was a leak in the gas tank on the plane and the flight people didn’t realize it until we were falling out of the sky. The only reason why I survived is because my 13 year old brother, Aiden, had opened the plane door and as soon as we landed in the water he shoved me out but he went back to try and save some more kids but the plane sank too fast, him and both of my parents died that day, the only one of them I remember vividly is my brother, he was always the one who helped me on homework and everything else I needed help on, my parents though were pretty much in my life just to be in it, they didn’t have any part in my first five years before they died.
    “Would you stop talking about them!” I cried. I was tired of always hearing things about them, I just wanted to remember the good things and move on. The doctor leans over and whispers something in Brisa’s ear and then she stands up and walks out of the room.
    The doctor pulls his computer over to face me and then he sits in the chair that Brisa had just been sitting in moments ago. “Do you know what this is?” he asks and points to something on the screen, I recognize it because of science, it’s a graphic of my DNA and a graphic of an average person’s DNA. You would be able to tell that my DNA wasn’t normal just from looking at mine, my DNA was like a sphere, not a cylinder like the average person’s.
    “There’s something wrong with your DNA Krista, we are going to have to take you in for testing but we first have to have Brisa’s permission since she’s been taking care of you since your parents and brother died ten years ago.” A nurse walks in the room and tells him to go out into the hallway for a second. He walks back in nearly right after he walks out. “Brisa is out in the hallway,” he says.
    “Is she going to allow you guys to do the testing?” I ask my heart skipping a beat in fear that she said yes.
    “She said if you don’t want to you don’t have to unless another person gets killed when they take you in; then you have to she said,” as he says this I pull my waist length red hair into a ponytail.
    “So I don’t have to go in to be studied,” I ask hoping that that’s what he meant. The rubber band I’m holding and attempting to put my hair up with goes flying across the room, it hit’s the wall and falls silently to the floor.
    “Yes,” he tells me, still staring at where the rubber band had fallen to the ground. “You may go get dressed and then you are free to leave.” He stands up and walks out of the room leaving the door slightly ajar for Brisa.
    “Need help with that?” She walks in and notices that I’m trying to put my hair up, she walks over and takes the rubber band out of my hand and then sits on her knees behind me on the bed.
    “Brisa?”
    “Hmm?” she says sounding like she was lost in her train of thought.
    “Thank you for not letting them take me in to be tested, I’ve heard of things that have happened to people who have been taken in by the government to be tested.”
    “Your like a daughter to me, I would never allow then to do that,” she tells me, her British accent coming back for a second. When she a kid she lived in England, she came to America when she was twenty, she is about forty years old now, but she didn’t look like it. “I just need you to promise you’ll try to find a family, it’s broken my heart the past ten years watching you go from a foster home, here, and then to another foster home,” she tells me, she finishes putting my hair up and then she moves to where she is sitting right next to me, her bob cut blonde hair making almost no movement.
    “I've found another foster home for you,” she pauses. “Please try and make this one work. This time it’s a newly-wed young couple. They are actually only twenty-threeish or so, so they are only a couple years older then you; you may end up being more of friends then a foster or adoptive family if they decide to adopt you.” Just then two people walk into the room laughing, I’m assuming it’s my new foster parents.
    “Ohmigod!” shouts the women, and then she runs up to me and pretty much tackles me with a hug. “Your so pretty!” she cries, laughing when she realizes how loud she’s being. “I’m Eve,” she pauses and then points to the guy still standing in the doorway. “That’s Andrew, my husband.” He does some little wave like thing to where he just barely lifts his hand up, and he does a smirk type smile. Eve turns towards me again and whispers, “He’s not really that up to this, this was my idea. I told him it’d prepare him for when we have a kid so he agreed, some what anyways.”
    “How old are you?” she asks completely changing the subject.
    “Fifteen, my birthday was last week,” I glace over at Andrew and he’s staring at me, as soon as I look over though he looks away. Weird.
    “Oh, well, happy birthday,” she turns to Andrew again. “We should take her shopping so she has a few nice outfits.” He shrugs and pulls out his phone, a couple moments later I hear Angry Birds starting up.
    “He does that a lot, just ignore it.”