Despite how many foster families he'd been in, this was the first time that Ollie had actually been in an airport. The plane itself had been much better than he'd expected- better than a car, at least. As he reached the baggage claim, his battered suitcase and even more battered duffel bag had just begun their journey around the carousel. He grabbed them and made his way out to the entrance hall. Despite the fact that his new foster mom had told him that a driver would be picking him up, he still found himself looking for her. But all he found was a driver with a sign that read his name.
The car journey held the usual anxiety. He really, really wished there was some sort of alternative- but evidently there wasn't. He'd overheard the conversation between his care worker and Dalia, telling her about all of his... quirks. About his hatred for cars and water and his recurring nightmares. And about everything that had happened. Dalia had said she'd be able to handle it, but Ollie honestly doubted it. He was willing to bet that he'd be sent back at some point. But perhaps that wouldn't happen until he was eighteen, and he wouldn't have to actually go back. He'd finally be free.
The car journey was long enough to drive him almost insane, so when they pulled up outside the house, he was out of the car as soon as it had more or less stopped. He had his backpack on his back and his two other bags in his hands before he noticed the two other girls standing on the doorstep. One was blonde and incredibly well dressed- enough so to make him almost feel underdressed in his hoodie and jeans. The other was dark-haired, with her hair in a messy braid. Not even a stylishly messy braid like so many of the girls back in his last school used to wear- a genuinely disheveled braid. So he wasn't going to be an only child.
He headed up to the porch, forcing a bit of a smile onto his face. They were both somewhat familiar, but he couldn't put a name on either of them. "Hey," he simply said by way of greeting.