What I resented most was how they rubbed it in.
Christmas was the time that this inequality was most felt.
The Hydes, the grandchildren of the Liversages, would contribute towards a worker's fund that went towards Christmas presents for their grand kids.
I don't know why, but it was these occasions where I felt that we were really given a raw deal.
It was like offering a bag of lollies, then snatching them the moment you grabbed for them.
We were foster kids.
And it was events like these that reminded us our place.
The hour drive back from Melbourne, the Liversage kids would be safely seatbelted in the back seats. Me and Daryl and Peter, his brother, were cramped in the back of the read of the station wagon.
There was no complaint line back then.
And if you ever dared to complain, you'd soon know how insignificant you were.
We were even a speck of dust.
But we knew, the power of dust.
It would combine with other dust particles.
Though we were just specks of dust, still on the microscopic level, over time, with the aid of gravity, we would be a formidable celestial body.
I don't care for Christmas.
It's for other people.
The Liversages, the Foster parents, really cared about their kids.
The government was paying them to look after us.
Neglect was the order of the day.
And I'm trying to find a lawyer.
Even the lawyers don't want to touch my case.
I'm still an insignificant little speck of dust to them.
But not for long.
I'm going to file my complaint to the courts, myself.
