April 2nd, 1989

I sat on my bed in utter boredom, tracing my initials into the wall behind my bed.

JAE.

JAE.

JAE.

I knew I shouldn't, but when you're bored...

Put it this way, I didn't really care.

Above my initials were those of the person who lived here before me: TMR.

I wondered who TMR was: a girl or boy; what happened to them.

Just then, Maria knocked at my door. "Jade! Someone to try and adopt you!"

She entered and whispered to me, "Please try to behave, Jade. They do mean well."

The couple - Mr and Mrs Robertson - came through the door.

"We're looking for a girl from age 5 to age 8. Is this who...?" Mr Robertson asked imperiously. Maria nodded.

"This is Jade, she's 7 years old. "

Mr Robertson was wearing a black suit. It looked like he was attending a business meeting, not having an interview with his possible adoptive-daughter-to-be.

Mrs Robertson was all in pink, lacy, frilly stuff which I have no shame in admitting looked perfect on her.

They looked like the perfect couple - not.

I hated them immediately.

"Oh, lovely! What a sweet little dear! How are you, little Jade?" gushed Mrs Robertson.

"Good morning. I'm well, thankyou, how are you?" I asked dully.

"Oooh, good manners!" squealed Mrs Robertson. "I'm excellent, thankyou - at least I will be once you've officially been adopted into our family!"

I repressed the urge to vomit.

Barely.

Mr Robertson put out his hand and I shook it.

"Now what, I wonder, is your view on politics?" he asked pompously.

"Er, well," I stuttered, "I am only 7 years old, so I don't really have a view on politics. Sorry."

He nodded happily. "Excellent! What a fine young wife you will make!" he declared. Turning to his wife, he added, "Florence, this child is perfect!"

"Come with me, Jade, Mr and Mrs Robertson," Maria said, beckoning to us. "We need to fix up the adoption papers."

I did not want to be adopted, at least not by this couple.

We walked into the 'Official Adoptions' room, where Maria pulled out a box full of spare adoption certificates.

She picked out the first one and said, "Oh. It's torn."

A large rip in the paper was visible.

The rest of the certificates were also in bad condition.

"Oh dear," said Maria, looking worried. "They're all in bad condition, sorry."

Mr Robertson looked extremely angry.

"YOU THINK WE COME HERE ONLY TO BE TURNED AWAY AGAIN? I'M NOT GOING TO ADOPT ANY CHILDREN FROM SUCH A DISORGANISED ORPHANAGE!" he yelled in frustration and then stormed out the door, followed by a miserable-looking Mrs Robertson.

The moment the door closed behind them, Maria turned to me.

"It was you, wasn't it? You did something to stop yourself getting adopted. Don't look at me like that, I know you know what I mean. All of that weird stuff that happens to you... unnatural. Must have got it from your father...he wore odd clothes, said odd things...just odd in general," she said.

"Maria, I swear I didn't do it on purpose! I know weird stuff happens around me - but I don't mean to do it! Wait - did you meet my father?" I asked eagerly.

She nodded. "Yeah. He dropped you off, said that 'due to unforseen circumstances' he wsn't able to look after you. And he looked like you, too. You face is almost the same as his, and your eyes too. But you must have your mother's hair, 'cause his was pretty much black," she commented, looking at my face.

I touched my reddish-brown hair self-consciously, and then my pendant.

"Did he mention his name?" I asked, thinking maybe I could finally find out my surname.

"Er-yes. I think it was, oh, what was it? Leroy? Leroy Edwards, yeah, that's right."

I rubbed my finger along the letters LE engraved into my pendant.

Leroy Edwards.

"So... my name is Jade Edwards, then?" I asked. I had finally discovered my last name!

"I guess," Maria said, shrugging.