Sophie had always dreaded the days when prospective adoptive parents visited the childrens home in Manchester. In the seven years shed spent there, not once had she been chosen.
When she was very little, shed look forward to those days, gazing in awe at the smartly dressed couples who seemed like magicians, ready to sweep her away to a magical house. Her new mum would kiss her goodnight, and her new dad would give her piggybacks around the garden. Shed imagine having her own bedroom at last, and she wouldnt have to share a bunk bed or spend every morning being teased by that annoying boy Charlie. Charlie had always managed to tug on her pigtails or call her Finch with a mischievous grin.
Sophie didnt know what Finch meant; it sounded like an insult. Five years old when she arrived at the homeafter her parents died in an accidentSophie never understood why her mum and dad never came for her, nor why they left her behind. As time passed, she realised they were truly gone, and gradually, their faces dimmed in her memory. Their voices faded, as did the scent of her old home and the warmth they once shared.
More than anything, Sophie wished someone would pick her. But miracles never seemed to come, and the older she grew, the more she understood that it was unlikely anymore. She considered herself rather plain, not like the pretty girls with flowing hair ribbons and charming smiles who were always chosen.
Charlie kept up his teasing, though now she knew a finch was a bird, not a bad thing at all.
On another adoption day, the staff did their bestdressing up the girls, tying bows in their hair. But Sophie rebelled. She took a pair of scissors to her own hair, chopping it into a messy, boyish crop. Shed finally decided she didnt want to be chosen any longer. From now on, Sophie determined, shed be the one doing the choosing in her life.
The carers were shocked to see her haircut, and Charlie, never missing a beat, called out, Oi, Finch! as she passed. Sophie had just turned twelve then, while Charlie was three years her senior.
That day, as expected, no one chose her. With her uneven hair and stormy green eyes, she looked anything but approachable.
Three years later, Charlie aged out of the home and came to say goodbye. He lingered at the gate, then turned to Sophie.
Bye, Finch, he said.
Bye then, she replied, trying to sound indifferent.
Hang in there, not long for you now! Just three more years, and then Ill come for you! Charlie declared with certainty.
As if! What makes you think Id choose you? Silly boy! she retorted.
He gave her a long, odd glance before walking away without looking back.
Leaving the orphanage behind, Sophie breathed in the freedom of adulthood. Those years had transformed her, the awkward duckling into a graceful swan, her wavy hair now shining down her back, her green eyes luminous. She set off towards her parents old flat, her heart full of hope. Suddenly, she heard a familiar call behind her.
Hello, Finch!
She turned to find Charlie beside her.
What are you doing here? she asked.
I told you Id come for you. So here I am, Charlie stepped closer.
I told you Id do the choosingfrom now on! Sophie replied, chin tipped defiantly up. Charlie had grown tall and broad-shouldered in the years apart.
Then choose me, Sophie! he pleaded.
Ill think about it, she teased, striding off to her new home.
Charlie followed her all the way to the block of flats, waiting at the lamps outside until shed gone indoors, then heading home. Each evening after that, he returned to the bench beneath Sophies window, sitting quietly until her light went out.
The English summer faded to autumn rains, and autumn gave way to a bitter winter. Yet Charlie still came, evening after evening. One cold night, Sophie slipped outside to join him.
Arent you tired of this? Doesnt the cold get to you? she asked, settling beside him.
I can wait. I will cope, as long as you pick me one day, he replied, holding her gaze with a gentleness that made Sophie jump to her feet and scurry inside, peeking out from behind the curtains to see him still waiting.
On New Years Eve, Sophie rushed home after her shift, setting the table hastily and slipping on a new dress as midnight neared. When she peered outside, the bench was empty. Her heart skipped. Had something happened?
An hour passed. Shed poured herself a glass of prosecco, tidied up, but her mind was on the empty pathway outside, a gnawing worry twisting in her stomach with each passing minute. What now? Where do I even start looking? I never even got his address or number! Silly girl! she scolded herself.
Just then, something bright caught her eye beyond the frosty panes. Fireworks already? she wondered, heading to the window.
In the snow outside, fiery letters burned: CHOOSE ME, SOPHIE!!! Charlie sat on the bench, waving up at her, grinning from ear to ear.
And so, Sophie realised that in life, sometimes the most important thing is not about waiting for others to choose you, but about finding the courage to choose for yourselfand recognising when someone truly chooses you, too.
