Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends Novels & Stories

Foster didn't even look at the menu and said, "Just follow her lead." Hannah looked up at him and scoffed, "Copycat!" Foster lowered his head and washed the fork, his slender fingers resting on it, even making the fork on his cheek appear more noble. Realizing what she was looking at, Hannah forced herself to look away. She took out her phone and wanted to vent about this matter with Jessica and the others. Just as she typed a few words, she suddenly remembered that Jessica and the others didn't know about Foster's situation. She had no choice but to delete the words she had typed, and then she opened I*******m to see those glamorous fake socialites posting heavily edited photos that were un

Tenley rambled as she drove. “I have never had siblings, and I didn’t have friends in high school. Everyone made fun of me for being a foster kid. Which was crazy because my parents made sure I had nice clothes and the best cell phones and everything. With all the money they received from fostering, they put towards me insuring that I had everything I needed. My parents have blessed me. That’s not the case for most foster kids. I’m looking forward to having a close friend for once.” I Turn my gaze out of the window at the storm and expressed my gratitude towards Tenley. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay, Tenley.”

I'm sixteen now, almost seventeen, one and a half year and I'll be free, I still have one year to spend in high school and it'll be over. From my moving around I learned how to defend myself, I'm not someone to take hits, believe I'll fight back, true I'm underweight and a bit on the short side but I will fight. I lose most times but it's the idea that counts, my new home were in another part of the country, I'm being sent to a more rich area. I did get my chicken nuggets on the way and even took a nap before we made it to the house, it wasn't your usual foster house, it was more like a group home for kids that got too old to be adopted, kids like me.

“You have it bad, don’t you?” “I do,” I sighed. “It’s almost time. I will go get her. Please do not run around and start a fire again.” “Good luck! Don’t piss your pants. And that was one time, Khalid,” Zayed called out to me. “One time!” I walked past the crowd, smiling and greeting anyone who talked to me with awe on their faces. The foster house was in much better shape. I had paid to get it renovated with fresh beige paint, colourful walls in kids’ room, new furniture, floors and an extra playroom and library. It felt like home when I decorate it with volunteers the day before. Putting flowers in the vases, framing few paintings and posters with pictures of foster kids with their forever

“Did you know each other as kids?” She nodded. “We basically grew up together. We had the same foster family. We may have different last names, but he's family. He's as much my brother as anyone can be.” “Oh.” My heart stopped falling. He was her foster brother. Which also explained the use of past tense when referring to his parents. They must have died when he was much younger. “So is Kindling Romance a family business then?” Charlotte laughed as if I had said something wonderfully clever and funny. “Oh, no. It's all Bastian. He's the one who convinced his two friends they actually had a legit idea. When he gets a notion in his head, the rest of us just come along for the ride.”

I know because I have the exact one, mama got it for me last month on sale. “You live next door?” I try not to flinch at the thought. She nods excitedly, not noticing my discomfort. "I’m Alexandra Carter. I live next door to you with my foster family." She says softly. I notice how she hugs her legs when she speaks about her foster family. I guess things aren’t great with her family. But like Damon always says it’s not my business. "What’s your name? Or are you going to be mysteries forever?" She asks with the cutest smile I've ever seen; she looks straight into my eyes.

Chapter 2 (Anabelle's POV) 18 years old Being a foster child was not easy, and up until this day I moved from house to house, I changed at least 20 homes and none of them were obviously meant to be my forever homes. But in this last one, I met Valentina. She was like a sister to me and we clicked from the start. With her by my side, everything was more bearable. Even the fact that our foster parents were total drunks did not affect me as it should anymore. Mostly we just stayed out of their way. But there was another problem. The problem's name was Devin. Yes like the devil but with an n at the end. He was the real problem in this house because he was kind of obsessed with me and Valentina a

"Because we are safe. We have extra food. We have extra beds. And we have extra love." "But where will he sleep?" "In the guest room," Mom said. "The one Uncle Marcus used." Ethan looked at the wall that separated his room from the guest room. That was his wall. He put his drawings on it. "For how long?" Ethan asked. "We don't know," Dad said. "Maybe for a little while. Maybe for a long while. Fostering means... we help him until he finds a forever family. Or until we become his forever family." "So he might stay forever?"

I explained, and this time his big brown eyes come to meet mine, offering me a small nod. “Yeah, I guess I get that.” He smiled. “So what else did I do seeing as you seem to have turned me into some serious romantic love-sick fool?” And there we lay for I don’t know how long discussing all the things we could explain with regards to out past together if anybody were to ask us. Some we were able to intermingle the truth of our friendship, others were well and truly imaginary, which we had fun creating. There had been so much laughter, and smiles as we lay side by side chatting about everything under the sun, building this oddly fake relationship we needed to make everyone else believe. Yet, b

Foster's phone number, which gave us no chance to confirm whether he still lived in the place I'd found. “If he's not there, we can at least talk to the neighbors and ask if anyone knows where he is now,” Grey reasoned. I forced myself to smile and nodded, knowing he was right. And yet, my restlessness didn't go away. I had an odd feeling that we might have come too late… Robert Foster lived in North Stamford, in a rather inconspicuous house, much more humble than the grand mansions surrounding it. An old pickup truck was parked on the driveway, and the lawn outside the house seemed freshly watered.