Allison gently knocked on the door of her new sister's room, number eight, before entering. She was carrying a tray with strawberry milk, soup, and neatly folded napkins. She smiled, trying to look friendly and at ease despite her inner anxiety.

"Dad said that since you didn't come to the communal dinner, you can eat in the room," Allison said softly, entering the room. "You know, he rarely allows such luxury."

The new sister, a girl about fourteen years old, was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees with her hands. Allison knew that this girl had been adopted only recently, taken away from a normal family, while she herself had been growing up here on the estate since birth. Allison understood how difficult it must be to adapt to such an environment, especially when everyone around seemed alien and, perhaps, even frightening.

Allison came closer and placed the tray on a small table next to the bed. She felt the new sister tense up, and decided to try to lighten the situation a little.

"You know," she began, trying to speak softly and reassuringly, —being Hargreaves is not a sentence. Yes, we have a lot of restrictions and rules, but that doesn't mean that life here will be terrible."

Allison sat on the edge of the chair next to the bed and looked at the girl, who still seemed wary and withdrawn. She understood that the words of the fifth, one of their brothers, could scare the new sister. He was always straightforward and harsh, which sometimes made his words cruel.

"Don't listen to what five says," Allison continued, trying to sound sincere. "He can be harsh, but he's not always right. There are a lot of good things here. We are all different, but we are a family, and in time you will understand that."

Allison paused, choosing her words. She wanted to convey to her new sister that she could find friends and support here, that she was not alone. "We've all been through difficulties, but we've learned to support each other. You can count on us."