by Sara Alva
A group home? That sounded like some place the mentally retarded were sent, but I kept my mouth shut. Maybe I was retarded…I’d certainly managed to let things get out of hand pretty damn quickly.
I tried to fight off the dread by staring out the window, telling myself I should enjoy the rare chance to see the world outside my neighborhood. We sped on past billboards advertising casinos and a racetrack, and some gray industrial buildings heaving out plumes of black smoke. Nothing really glamorous—just more drab freeway, under dreary overcast skies.
We’d gone from one part of the ghetto to another. There were no 7-11s and no Starbucks when we took the exit…only one lone no-name gas station. And a good half of the billboards were in Spanish—a surefire sign of ghetto, if you asked me.
Suzie pulled up in front of a very ordinary house. It was bigger than most on the street, but I’d been expecting something more along the lines of Juvee, with a barbed wire fence, maybe—not a regular old home. A large white garage sat in front of the red brick building, which, though old, did not look like it was about to crumble. Maybe the neighborhood wasn’t as ghetto as I’d thought.
The child lock clicked off, finally releasing me from my prison, but I didn’t make a move until Suzie came around and got the door for me.
“Alex, I know this is a lot to take in. I promise you nothing final is happening right now.”
“Better not be.” I followed her toward the house. “How long I gotta be here?”
“This is just temporary.” Her words might’ve been meant to reassure, but they sounded flat to my ears. “Hopefully, things can be settled soon.”
Fat chance. I had the sickening sense in that moment that nothing would ever be settled again.
Still, I tried to push it aside. “Are you gonna talk to them? To Hector and my mom?”
“Well, perhaps, or perhaps another social worker will.”
“And will the cops be there?”
“Most likely.”
Oh, fuck. Hector would kill me for bringing the cops to his doorstep. Even if these people did decide I could go home, I probably wouldn’t be able to. I might never have a home again.
A feeling hit me, and for a moment I didn’t recognize it. I rarely felt anything this strong. But as I stood in front of the strange house filled with God-only-knew-what-kind of people, my throat tightened and my chest caved in on my heart and my neck no longer seemed strong enough to keep my ready-to-blow head attached to my body.
My whole life had changed in an instant. All because of a stupid pair of shoes. All because my damn feet wouldn’t stop growing.
That feeling—it was complete fucking terror.
My flip-flops rooted themselves to the driveway, and I didn’t budge another inch.
“Alex? Let me take you inside and introduce you to Ms. Loretta. She and her sister Ms. Cecily run this foster home together.”
“No.” I hitched my bag up on my shoulder, fingers locking around the strap, like holding onto that bit of my old reality could keep me grounded. “I don’t want to meet any Ms. Loretta. I want to go home, right now.”
“I can’t take you home until we—”
“I said I want to go home right now!”
Jesus, I sounded like a two-year-old having a temper tantrum. My mind was spinning, and I’d started to sweat. What was I supposed to do in a place like this? Was I a foster kid now?
“Alex.” Suzie placed an arm on my shoulder.
“Get the fuck off me, lady!”
I jerked away from her and went into a crouch stance, eyes darting around wildly in search of the best route of escape.
“Young man, you best close your mouth right now, ’cause you not gonna be usin’ that kind of language in this house!”
A very tall and heavy black lady in a long red wrap dress stood at the front door, both hands on her hips and a glare on her face that froze me in my tracks.
“Now you bring yourself on in here, and don’t you let me hear that foul mouth again.”
“Alex, this is Ms. Loretta,” Suzie said gently, and suddenly I didn’t want her to go anywhere. Ms. Loretta looked a lot scarier than a chubby white woman in a gray suit. “Now, let’s get you settled in.”
Ms. Loretta was still staring me down, so I very meekly followed Suzie inside.
“Alex doesn’t have a change of clothing. If he ends up having to stay the night, do you have something in his size?” Suzie asked her.
“Oh, yes, we got. Don’t you worry, Ms. Suzie. He’ll be fine, won’t he.”
Another glare had me nodding fearfully.
“All right.” Suzie stretched out her arm for a moment, like she wanted to squeeze my shoulder again, but then thought better of it. She tucked her hands at her sides and just gave me a smile. “Alex, would you like to talk some more about the DCFS process right now, or would you prefer some time to rest?”
I said nothing.
After a moment of staring, Suzie sighed. “I think we can talk some more later, and I’ll let Ms. Loretta take it from here.” She walked away and closed the door behind her, leaving me alone in the foyer with Ms. Loretta.
The giant of a woman sized me up with a long, hard look, her expression daring me to back-talk her, or make some sort of complaint about where I’d found myself. I scanned my surroundings warily. A clean but bizarrely decorated kitchen lay just beyond the hallway, covered in wallpaper of golds and yellows and reds. That was really all I could make out from where I stood, except for Ms. Loretta herself.
I tried to look at her without actually making eye contact, still afraid to be caught by her stare. She was a lot like her kitchen—large and gaudy, with gold hoop earrings standing out against her dark skin and bright dress.
“Lights out at 9:30,” she announced without further introduction. “Since we don’t know how long you gonna be with us, I won’t assign you chores, but dinner’s at 7 o’clock, and you’ll be expected to clean your own dishes.”
The back door of the house swung open.
“Wipe your feet!” Ms. Loretta yelled, and a few seconds later a boy appeared.
He was about my height, and probably around my age, with short, dark curly hair and light brown skin. Of mixed-race, obviously…and a good mixture at that.
“A new kid?” he asked, eyeing me carefully.
“This is Alex.” Ms. Loretta said. “He might only be here for the night. Take him outta my hair…I gotta start on dinner.”
The boy cocked his head toward the back of the house, and I followed, still clutching my backpack strap with both hands against my shoulder.
“I’m Brandon. Dwayne’s out back, Ryan and Andrew are at after-school care…you wanna drop your stuff upstairs first?”
I shrugged.
“Well you’re talkative.” He rolled his eyes.
I was no blabbermouth, but here in this foreign setting, I’d apparently lost my voice entirely.
He led me through a family room that lived up to more of Ms. Loretta’s taste in bright colors, then up to a large bedroom filled with bunk beds and tiny desks. The walls were bare and the sheets a dingy gray…but the place was fairly clean, and I had to admit it was a step up from my usual sleeping space.
Brandon pointed to an empty bed, and I finally parted with my bag there. I wouldn’t have, if I’d had anything valuable in it—I wasn’t stupid enough to leave my stuff unattended like that.
Something shifted under a mass of blankets beside me, and I jumped back, hitting my bare ankle against the bed frame.
Brandon snickered. “That’s Seb. He’s a retard.”
A retard named Seb? Shit, maybe I was in that kind of group home. Or maybe Brandon and this guy had some sort of issue with each other. I tried to get a better look at the sleeping figure, but I could only see a bit of ash-blond hair peeking out over the sheets, and the boy didn’t say anything. Not much to go on.
“You gonna come out back or what?” Brandon huffed impatiently.
“Mhm.” At least I
made a sound that time as I turned and left the room.
Out in the small backyard, I came upon another tenant—Dwayne, Brandon had said—tossing a basketball into a leaning hoop.
Dwayne was black. Black black. Not that that was a problem for me—I probably had less of a beef with black people than most of my friends, ’cause of the time I’d spent in the projects. You either got along with your neighbors there, or you invited a shitload of drama into your life.
“New kid,” Brandon said to him.
Dwayne gave me the once over as he continued to dribble the ball. He was tall and muscular, with the cut off sleeves of his t-shirt nicely displaying his biceps. “He here to stay?”
“Dunno.” Brandon shrugged.
“I fuckin’ hate new kids.”
I’d never been one to take insults lying down, and as confused as I still was, I knew that moment was Do or Die Time. If, God forbid, I actually did have to stay there, I really needed to get my act together and shake off this lost little boy thing I had going on.
“Fuck no I ain’t stayin’,” I told Dwayne, glaring. “Who wants to stay in a shithole like this?”
“Like you ain’t from a shithole. If you wasn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”
“I’m here ’cause a bitch teacher couldn’t mind her own fucking business. There’s nothing wrong with my home, so I’ll be outta here in no time.”
Dwayne passed the ball to Brandon, who made a run for the basket and dunked it neatly. His shirt rode up a little, and I would have liked to take some time to appreciate that, but I couldn’t really shift my attention from the current showdown.
“Then what’s that bandage on your arm for, new kid? You tried to slit your wrists ’cause mommy and daddy don’t love you enough?”
I took two steps forward and drew my arm back to punch, but suddenly found myself restrained.
Brandon had snuck around behind me, and he now had both my arms locked in his. My back pressed up against his wide chest as he pulled me away. “Easy, new kid. There are worse places than this, and you gonna find yourself there if you piss off Ms. Loretta.”
I threw him off and stepped away from both boys. “My name is Alex.”
“All right, Alex.” Dwayne sneered, white teeth glowing against dark lips. “You play basketball? Or just soccer? ’Cause we don’t have no soccer ball.”
“Shit, I don’t wanna play nothing right now.” I crossed my arms. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”
“Good luck with that.” Dwayne shrugged, retrieving the ball and returning to his dribbling.
Brandon laughed beside my ear. “Wow, you makin’ friends fast.”
“And why would I want to make friends with you?”
“You never know how long you gonna be here…and like I said, there are worse places.”
A little of the fury Dwayne had worked up began to deflate. Brandon didn’t seem like such a bad guy, really. He was still grinning at me, and he had dimples. Small, round dimples in perfect caramel skin.
I mentally recited the alphabet once and uncrossed my arms.
“Yeah. So what’s your story, then? Why you here?”
Brandon sat down on the steps by the backdoor. “My mom smokes crack. She’s gonna go to rehab, though, so I can go back and live with her. What about you?”
I bit my lip. I wanted to tell him the truth all of the sudden, because I could tell he’d been honest with me, but I knew it wasn’t safe.
“A mix up. A teacher reported this burn I got by accident.”
Brandon nodded slowly. “So can’t they just talk to your parents and clear things up?”
“Mom’s out of town for the weekend. She’ll be back soon.”
“Oh. So then maybe you’re not staying.”
“Nope. I’m not.”
“Good for you.” Brandon stood and dusted himself off. “Andrew and Ryan are gonna be home soon, and I’m supposed to make sure they do their homework.”
He didn’t say goodbye as he turned to leave, and for some reason I decided that meant I should go with him. Another even larger woman, also in colorful clothing, was standing in the kitchen now, along with two younger black boys who looked like they were still in elementary school.
“And that’s Alex. Hopefully just a temporary,” Ms. Loretta said to the new woman.
“I’m Ms. Cecily, Alex.” She stuck out a fleshy hand for me to shake, and I took it, mostly because Brandon was watching and I no longer wanted to seem like such a dick in front of him. “Brandon, take Ryan and Andrew upstairs and get them started on their homework.”
The boys followed Brandon, and I trailed a little further behind, wondering why nobody was telling me what I was supposed to be doing. Maybe that was a good sign, though. Hopefully it meant I wasn’t going to be worked into their little system.
Upstairs, I plopped back on a bed…my bed, I supposed, and watched Brandon settle one boy into a desk in a room across the hall. He returned with the other kid and took the boy’s folder out of his backpack, then thumbed through the papers before setting it down. “Get to work,” he ordered.
The boy glanced over his shoulder at me, baring crooked teeth. “New kid?”
“I’m not one of you,” I spat, more severely than I’d intended. It was just that it was like the fifth time I’d been called that in a thirty-minute time period. I wasn’t new, and I wasn’t a kid. I was just…fucked.
“Leave him alone, Ryan. He’s grumpy,” Brandon said.
A squeak and a rustle reminded me that the Seb character was still behind me. I whirled around to see if I’d get a better look at him this time, but he remained covered all the way up to his hairline.
“I’m not grumpy. I’m just not gonna be staying here. I’m sorry for you all if you got problems, but I don’t.”
Brandon rolled his eyes. “Dinner’s at seven. See ya.” He strode out of the room, and I immediately wanted to kick myself. Driving away my first potential ally in this damn place was probably not the smartest thing to do.
Ryan started writing on a worksheet, ignoring me, so I lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Despite all my talk, I knew it was only that—talk. It would take a day or so until they reached my mom, if she’d only planned on a short trip. She’d deny Hector had done anything wrong, of course, but they’d probably want to talk to him anyway. And Hector wasn’t really the talking sort.
Maybe he’d skip town?
That thought instantly chased most of the bad ones away, and I seized the opportunity to close my eyes and grab a few moments of rest.
Chapter 5: Bad. Very Bad.
“Dinner!” a woman’s voice boomed. A loud, brassy woman’s voice. Not my mother’s.
Opening my eyes slowly, I took in the shadows that hung over wooden bunk beds, each perfectly made, and empty. This was not my furniture, and not my room.
The sheets I lay on smelled faintly of lilac. Not my bed.
I bolted upright as I finally remembered where I was. But in the dim light and without anyone around me, the whole thing seemed totally surreal. I was tempted to close my eyes again and let it all be a dream.
“You’d best be gettin’ yourself down here if you plan on eating, ’cause you ain’t gettin’ nothing later!”
I picked up the edges of the pillow and curled them around my head, even if it wouldn’t be enough to shut out that kind of a voice.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and a moment later Brandon appeared in the doorway. “Don’t tell me you can sleep through Ms. Loretta’s yelling…’cause if you can, I’m fucking jealous.”
“What the fuck,” I grumbled. “What time is it?”
“Dinner time.”
“I don’t fucking care.” Why should I play house with these people?
“She wasn’t kidding about no food later. The fridge and the cabinets have locks.” Brandon smirked at me, one dimple showing in the hallway light.
Well, maybe one meal wouldn’t hurt.
Dwayne, Ms. Ce
cily, Ms. Loretta and the younger boys were already seated around plates of chicken thighs and green beans. The table had a red cloth over it and it was fully set, with real silverware and glasses.
I stood back for a moment to take in the scene. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat at a table for a meal—at home we ate in front of the TV, and our food tended to come out of a box. Definitely no fine china for us.
“Have a seat, Alex,” Ms. Cecily said. She was a lot less brisk than her sister, but I still hesitated, feeling like an intruder in their foreign family ritual.
The food smelled good, though, and my stomach flipped, reminding me I’d had nothing all day but a bottle of water and some aspirin. I eventually slid into a chair next to Brandon and picked up a fork so I could nervously shove the green beans about.
“Those are for eating,” Ms. Loretta said. “We don’t waste food in this house.”
I looked up at her round face just in time to see the last member of the household enter the room.
Seb the retard came in carrying a pitcher of water. His thin figure, strangely pale for the neighborhood, surprised me…though he had a kind of brownish undertone to his skin, so I didn’t think he was straight-up White. Definitely not with eyes like those—huge and almond-shaped, and so dark they looked black.
Ms. Loretta caught my staring. “You haven’t met Sebastian?”
“Seb was sleeping,” Brandon answered for me. “As usual.”
Seb—or Sebastian—poured water in everyone’s glasses, then sat down and silently began eating.
“Did you finish all your homework?” Ms. Cecily asked, of no one in particular.
“Yup.” Ryan slurped in a green bean through crooked teeth. “Me and Andrew finished everything, and Brandon checked it.”
“And you, Dwayne?”
Dwayne mumbled something with a piece of chicken in his mouth, and Ms. Loretta slapped his wrist. “Finish chewing first.”
