15 year old Will Treaty was in the backseat of Mr. Pine's car. He was on the way to a new foster homeā€¦ again. This was nothing new, Will had been in eleven foster homes since he was an infant. This time, however, he couldn't sit in the front seat due to the amount of papers and files on the seat. All of them were about him.

"Hey, Pines, can you switch the radio station?" Will asked from his seat in the Dodge charger.

"What's wrong with jazz?" Pines glanced at Will from his rear view mirror.

"It's giving me the blues, there's no rhythm, and no art."

"It's talent."

"For the untalented."

This was the usual banter between these two. They never seemed to agree upon anything, whether it was the music selection or which fast food joint they should eat lunch at.

"Well it's better than that rock you listen to. Honestly, people screaming in your ear and loud guitar riffs. Now that has no talent."

"Whatever." Will slouched in his seat and stared at the trees they were passing. He wished he could just go and climb one, stretch his legs and clear his head.

Mr. Pines noticed Will staring longingly out the window and he gave a sigh. "Look, kid, I know that this is your tenth-"

"Twelfth," Will interrupted.

"-Twelfth foster home but try going into it with a positive attitude. I mean, it's a fresh start, new home, new town, new school and, new friends. It's a great opportunity for you."

Will snorted. "That's what you said last time. Was that a great opportunity?"

Mr. Pines face fell, he knew Will had a point. Mr. Pines had been in charge of Will since he entered the foster system and he hated that Will was constantly getting the short end of the stick. In a way, he felt that he had failed Will by not getting him a home by now. "Well," Mr. Pines tried reasoning with the boy. "Maybe this time it'll be different."

"Maybe, maybe, maybe, I'm sick of maybe's."

"Just give them a chance. They're giving you one."

Will just slumped in his seat and all you could hear for the rest of the ride was jazz music coming through the radio.

A half hour later

Mr. Pines and Will stood in front of a decent sized house with green trimming. Even though it was in the center of Redmont city it looked to be more of a cozy farm house. Maybe they keep cows and chickens in the garage, Will thought sarcastically.

Mr. Pines rang the doorbell. They only had to wait a couple of seconds before the door was opened by a tall, graceful looking woman who looked to be in her early forties. A man, who was shorter than the woman, stood beside her.

"Hello, Mr. Pines," the woman said with a smile.

"Hello," Mr. Pines answered before turning to Will. "Will, meet your new foster parents: Halt and Pauline O'Carrick."