Lucy absolutely dreaded adoption days at the childrens home. In the seven years shed been there, no one had ever picked hernot once.
When she was smaller, she used to look forward to those days, her heart all fluttery with hope. Shed stare wide-eyed at all the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen. To her, they seemed almost magicallike theyd sweep her away to a place like Windsor Castle. A new mum would tuck her in at night with kisses on her forehead. Dad would hoist her up on his shoulders for fun, just like the dads did in the park. She dreamed of having her own little bedroom filled with pillows and books. And best of all, she wouldnt have to deal with that annoying Ben anymore. He was always giving her a hard time, tugging at her plaits and calling her Chirpy.
Lucy had no idea what Chirpy meantit just sounded awfully mean to her. And Ben, of course, wouldnt stop:
Chirpy! Oi, Chirpy!
Lucy was only five when she came to live at the childrens home. Her parents had died in a car crash. For a long time, she couldnt understand why her mum and dad just stopped comingwhy they left her behind.
As the years ticked on, Lucy finally understood that they were gone. She started to forget what they looked like. Eventually, their voices faded, their scent faded, that little terraced house they all lived in blurred away in her memory.
Still, deep down, Lucy wished someone would pick her. But no miracle ever came. She grew up realising she just wasnt the kind of girl people wanted. Lucy wasnt especially pretty. The ones who found new homes were always the pretty girls with bows tied into gleaming hair and sweet little grins.
Ben never let up, either, though Lucy eventually figured out that Chirpy was the name of a bird. Adoption day rolled around again. The carers scrubbed all the girls clean, tied ribbons in their plaits. Lucy, thoughshe chopped off her own hair, went for a jagged, boyish cut. She didnt care about being chosen anymore. Shed decided that from now on, shed be the one doing the choosing.
When the carers saw her new haircut, they gasped. And Ben, ever the pest, shouted after her:
Chirpy!
Lucy turned twelve that autumn. Ben was fifteen now.
And that day, no one picked her againnot surprising, really, with her short, lopsided haircut and those stormy eyes flashing. She looked more like trouble than anything else.
Three years later, Ben left the childrens home for good. He hugged a few people goodbye, and then wandered over to Lucy.
See you around then, Chirpy?
Yeah, see you, Lucy replied coolly.
You take care, alright? Not long now! Just three more years and then Ill come get you, Ben said, all serious.
Dont be daft! Who said Id pick you? Lucy snapped back.
Ben just gave her this long, strange look, then turned and left, never glancing back.
She closed the door behind her for her last time at the home, and stepped outside, breathing in her first real taste of freedomgrown-up life awaiting her. Gone was the awkward little girl. Her hair had grown long and glossy again, green eyes bright and confident, figure elegant. She was on her way to her familys old flatthe one her parents left behind. Suddenly, someone called out behind her:
Hey, Chirpy!
She spun around. There was Ben.
What are you doing here? she asked.
I told you Id come for you. Here I am, Ben said, coming closer.
I told you, BenIm the one who chooses now, Lucy said, chin raised.
Then pick me, Lucy, he said, almost pleading.
Ill think about it, she replied, striding off towards her building.
Ben followed her all the way to her front door. He waited until she was safely inside before disappearing into the evening. From then on, Ben would turn up under her window every night, parking himself on the bench out front, waiting until the lights in her flat finally flickered off.
Summer slipped by, giving way to chilly, rainy autumn. Then came winter. Still, Ben kept turning up. One evening, Lucy went out to him. She sat next to him on the cold bench and asked, softly:
Dont you ever get tired of this? It must be freezing out here.
Its alright. I can wait. Just pick me, Lucy. Please, he said, his eyes on her, gentle and patient.
Lucy leapt up from the bench, flustered, and hurried back home. She watched him through the net curtains as he gazed up at her window.
New Years Eve arrived. Lucy rushed home after workthere was so much to do, the table needed setting, the new dress was hanging up, the last bits for her tiny celebration to sort. Tonight was New Years Eve, after all. But for the first time in weeks, Ben wasnt on the bench. Lucys heart twisted. What if something had happened?
An hour later, Lucy finished fussing about with her little party. She poured herself a glass of prosecco and drifted to the window. Still no Ben. Her stomach clenched, nerves jangling.
What do I do? Look for him? But where? I havent got his address, dont know his number! Idiot, Im such an idiot, she scolded herself.
Just then, something sparked outsidefireworks already, she assumed, and leaned out to watch.
Down in the snow, in huge blazing letters, the words were written:
CHOOSE ME, LUCY!!!
And there was Ben, waving from his usual bench, grinning madly up at her window.
