The Lost Boy: A Foster Child's Search for the Love of a Family

by Dave Pelzer

  My first day at Fernando Riviera Junior High was a huge improvement over the one at Parkside Junior High in San Bruno. I kept my mouth shut and my head down. At recess I desperately tried to find out what happened to my former teachers, only to discover that they had been transferred to other schools across the district. I felt empty and sorry for myself, until one day I made friends with Carlos, a shy Hispanic boy. We shared most of the same classes, and at recess we’d stroll throughout the school. We seemed to have a lot in common, but unlike my “friend” John at Monte Cristo Elementary, Carlos didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Because Carlos could not speak English very well, we did not feel a need to talk to each other that much. In an odd sense Carlos and I had a way of knowing what the other was thinking, just by our expressions. We soon became inseparable. At the end of the school day, we always met by our adjoining lockers so we could walk home together.

  One day, out of boredom I convinced Carlos to walk across the street to the new Thomas Edison Elementary School. As Carlos and I strolled down the corridors, I couldn’t believe how puny the other kids looked. Loads of children bubbled with laughter as they raced to the play yard or for their rides home. With my head bent to the side, I turned a corner and bumped into a big kid. I muttered an instant apology before I realized the kid was my brother Russell. His head reeled back for a second. My eyes examined his every feature. I knew in a flash that Russell would let out a bloodcurdling scream, but I couldn’t break away from staring at him. His eyes flickered. I felt my body tense the way it always did the moment before I sprinted away. My head leaned forward when Russell’s lips began to quiver. I sucked in a deep breath and told myself, Okay, David, here it comes.

  “Holy cow! Oh my God! David! Where did you . . . how the hell are you?” Russell asked with a choking voice.

  My mind raced with all my options. Was Russell for real? Would he strike out and hit me or run and tell Mother that he saw me? I turned to Carlos, who raised his shoulders. I wanted so badly to hug Russell. My mouth suddenly went dry. “I’m, ah . . . I’m fine,” I stuttered, shaking my head. “You okay? I mean . . . how are you? How’s things at home? How’s Mom?”

  Russell’s head dipped to his worn-out sneakers. I realized how withdrawn he looked. His shirt was paper-thin and his arms were spotted with small, dark purple marks. My head snapped up to his face. I knew. I shook my head, not knowing what to say. I felt so sorry for him. For years I had been the sole target of Mother’s rage. Now in front of me stood my replacement.

  “Do you have any idea of what she’d do if she ever found out I talked to you?” Russell said, his voice trailing off. “Things are bad. I mean real bad. All she does is rant and rave. She drinks more than ever. She does everything more than ever,” Russell said, again looking at his shoes.

  “I can help!” I stated with sincerity. “Really, I can!”

  “I . . . ah, I gotta go.” Russell spun away, then stopped and turned around. “Meet me here tomorrow after school.” Then he flashed me a wide smile. “Hey man . . . it’s really good to see you.”

  I walked forward. I felt an overwhelming urge to be close to him. I stuck out my hand. “Thanks, man. I’ll see ya.”

  Afterward I smiled at Carlos. “That’s my brother.”

  Carlos nodded. “Si, hermano! Si!”

  I thought about Russell the rest of the afternoon. I couldn’t wait to see him the next day. But what can I do? I asked myself. Would Russell come to Jody and Vera’s home with me so Jody could call the police and maybe rescue him as I had been? Or did I imagine the marks on Russell’s arms to be abuse rather than battle wounds from playing hard? Maybe, I thought, Russell was trying to set me up like he did years ago when he planted candy bars in my rag box, then ran off to inform Mother that he had caught me stealing. He then had the privilege of watching me receive my punishment for my crime. Mother had trained Russell to be her spy, but then again, he was only a small child back then.

  That night I tossed and turned in my bed, wondering what to do. Some time in the early morning hours I finally drifted off to sleep. In my dream, I found myself waiting for her. My head tilted to one side when I heard Mother’s forced breathing. Our eyes locked for a moment. I saw myself walking toward her. I wanted to talk to her, to ask her—to plead with her—why me, why Russell? My mouth moved, but the words didn’t come. In a flash Mother’s face turned cherry red. No! I yelled at myself. You can’t keep doing this! It’s over! The shiny razor-edged knife suddenly appeared above Mother’s head. I tried to twist my body and run away, but my feet failed to respond. I tried to yell her away. My eyes followed the knife as it flew out of her hands. I knew I was dead. I screamed for my life, but I couldn’t hear my terror.

  My head bounced off the floor. I found myself scrabbling to stand up. I stood alone in a dark room, unsure whether I was awake or still in my dream. I strained my eyes, searching through the darkness. My heart seemed stuck in my throat. My God! I said to myself. What if I’m still there with her? I emptied my lungs when I recognized the sound of Jody’s son snoring in his bed. Grabbing a piece of my clothing, I held it to my chest as I waited for the sun to come up.

  The next day after school, I physically dragged Carlos to Thomas Edison Elementary. “This no good idea,” Carlos stated. “Your mamasita, she loca! ” he said, twirling a finger to the side of his head. I nodded in agreement. I had decided after my nightmare that nothing would keep me from seeing Russell. Carlos and I stopped in the same hallway as the day before. A group of children screamed and yelled as they seemed to run through our legs. As the kids grew bigger in size, I twisted my neck in search of Russell. My eyes found him at the far end of the hall with his head bent down. “Russell!” I shouted. “Over here!” Russell’s head bobbed, but he didn’t make eye contact as he had the day before.

  I felt something tug on my arm. I smirked at Carlos, whose eyes darted in every direction. “This no good. Your mama, she loca! ” he warned.

  “Not now!” I said, still keeping my eyes fixed on the top of Russell’s head. “My brother . . . ah, si hermano! Si? He needs help, like me, remember?” I said, pointing toward Russell, who slowed his pace.

  I leaned forward when Carlos grabbed my arm. “No!” Carlos shouted. “You wait here!”

  I brushed Carlos’s hand away. Fighting my way against the tide of children, I made my way to Russell. Still walking, I extended my hand. Russell saw me, but for some reason he kept his head down. I stopped mid-stride.

  My legs buckled. My arm seemed to just hang in front of me. Even before Carlos yelled, I knew something was horribly wrong. “Run, David!” Carlos shrieked. “Run!”

  I looked just above Russell’s hair and saw Mother walking behind him with her head bent down. Mother’s ice-cold, evil eyes locked onto mine as her face came into full view. Kids seemed to dance around her as they scattered in every direction. Inches in front of me Russell stopped, then turned toward Mother, who smiled. Her hand disappeared into her purse as she came closer still. For a split second Mother’s face seemed to hesitate, as she withdrew a shiny piece of metal. . . .

  I lost my balance when my arm jerked backward. I fell on my back, my eyes still fixated on Mother. Above me Carlos began to drag me backward. I knew this had to be a dream, but Carlos’s badgering made everything real. I struggled to stand up, feeling Carlos’s hands lift me to my feet.

  I blinked my eyes and saw Mother’s bony fingers stretch out toward my neck. She was so close I caught a whiff of her putrid body odor. In a flash Carlos and I weaved our way through the mass of smaller children. As we fled, I looked behind me. Mother seized Russell’s arm as she quickened her pace. Carlos grabbed my hand, leading me to the parking lot. My chest heaved from absolute terror and lack of oxygen. My arms swung wildly. I ran into the parking lot and again searched behind me. My eyes sought out any sign of Mother and Russell. Without warning, I tripped off the curb.

  As my body flew through the air, I tried to swing my head forward in an effort to r
egain my balance. A second later my chest collided against the hood of a moving car. Behind the windshield, a woman’s eyes grew wide. I felt myself rolling off the hood as I tried to grab anything that would keep me from falling. My hands slapped the far end of the hood, fingers flailing, as I tried to latch onto the wiper blades. I closed my eyes and felt my body sink in front of the car. My ears burned from the sound of my own scream.

  A moment later my head struck the pavement. I heard a screeching sound. I tried to cover my head with my hands. Somewhere in the crowd I heard someone else scream. I closed my eyes and emptied my lungs. Seconds later I uncovered my face and peeked through my fingers. Inches in front of my nose were the grooves of a front left tire.

  Carlos plucked me from the pavement. I drooped an arm across his shoulder as he led me to the sidewalk. I looked back at the car. A young woman flung open the car door, and stood and shook.

  Without skipping a beat, Mother marched at full speed to her station wagon.

  Without my saying a word, Carlos understood my fear. My legs felt rubbery, and he had to practically drag me up the same small hill that I had, years ago, raced from into Mother’s waiting arms before we left for the river. Now that same hill seemed to be my doom. My legs became tangled, my knee scraped the sidewalk and my teeth were clenched from the jolt of pain.

  From the top of the hill Carlos and I could see small clusters of children and adults pointing in our direction. My eyes scanned the stream of cars as they emptied from the parking lot. I would not know in which direction to flee until I spotted Mother. After a few sweeps I shook my head. “She’s gone! She’s not there!”

  Carlos jabbed my sore arm. “There!” he pointed. Mother’s station wagon had climbed the hill in no time flat. I could see the rage on her face as she pounded wildly on her horn. Because of the traffic, she could not make her left turn. Carlos and I nodded to each other before running across the street and up another hill to his house. My energy seemed to come from nowhere, and my ears picked up the distinctive rumbling sounds of the worn-out muffler on Mother’s ancient station wagon.

  Carlos and I bolted up the stairs to his house. He dug into his pockets and fumbled with the keys to the door. “Come on!” I pleaded. Carlos’s twitching fingers dropped the keys. Even though I could hear the sound of Mother’s car chugging up the hill, I stood and watched the shiny reflection from the keys that tumbled down the stairs. Keys! I yelled at myself. Mother wasn’t taking a knife out of her purse! It was a set of keys!

  Carlos’s shouting woke me from my spell. I raced down the stairs and tossed the keys to Carlos, who jammed a key in the lock before flinging the door open. On my hands and knees, I scrambled up the stairs, rolled into Carlos’s house and slammed the door shut. No one was home. Creeping to the front window, we stayed glued to the floor and peeled back the drapes as much as we dared, just as Mother’s station wagon rocketed up the street. Carlos and I began to let out a laugh—until I heard the familiar sound of Mother’s car creep down the street, as she tapped the brakes every few feet, her eyes piercing into every house. “She’s searching for us,” I whispered.

  “Si,” Carlos replied. “Your mama, she loca! ”

  After hiding behind the living room curtain for over an hour, Carlos and I walked to the halfway mark to Jody’s home. We grinned at each other. His brown eyes smiled. “Just like, eh, James Bondo!”

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “James Bondo!” I shook his hand and nodded to him that I’d see him tomorrow. I watched Carlos stroll down the street, then disappear as he rounded the corner. I never saw him again.

  I jogged up the set of hills and didn’t stop until I slammed the front door to Jody’s home. I huffed behind the door for several seconds until I realized that Vera and Jody were screaming at each other in the kitchen. I cursed to myself, knowing that Mother must have just called. I sailed past the kitchen and into my room, knowing that Jody would soon yell for me. As I sat on my box-spring bed, I knew I had broken one of the most important rules Gordon Hutchenson had pounded into me—stay the heck away from Mother. Thoughts of Gordon driving me to juvenile hall filled my head.

  After a few minutes I leaned against the bedroom door to better hear what the commotion was all about. I discovered that Jody and Vera were not yelling about me, but about some girl. I opened the door and sneaked down the stairs to the older boys’ room. All at once every head snapped up in my direction. Their faces were long and withdrawn. They all seemed busy, their bodies bent over as they stuffed their clothes and other belongings into brown bags and pillowcases. I knew, but I had to ask. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  The oldest kid, Bobby, stated, “They’re shutting down the house. You better pack whatever you got ’cause tomorrow we’re outta here.”

  My mouth hung open. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  No one answered. I ran to the bottom of the stairs and tugged on Bobby’s shirt. As he looked down at me, I could tell by his eyes that he had been crying. I didn’t know that older kids did that. Bobby shook his head. “Jody’s been accused of statutory rape.”

  “Statue . . . what?” I asked.

  “Hey little dude, the word is that the Joneses took in this girl a few months back, and this chick now says she was raped, even though Jody was never alone in the house with her. If you ask me, I know it’s all a lie. That chick was crazy,” Bobby said. “Just go pack your stuff and don’t forget to check the laundry basket. Now scram!”

  It only took me a minute to repack my things. As I stuffed my grocery bag, I turned off any feelings of sorrow I had for the Joneses. They were nice people, and I felt sorry for Jody and Vera, but my worldly possessions came first. To me it was a matter of survival.

  The next morning a fleet of cars arrived, and one by one the other foster children and I said our good-byes. I kissed Vera on the cheek and hugged Jody’s jolly tummy. As the social worker drove me down the hills, then past my school, I took out my sheet of addresses and scratched the Joneses from my list. I had stayed at their home for just over two months—my third foster home in half a year.

  The social worker informed me that some of the other foster kids I had lived with would end up in juvenile hall because there were no homes available. He went on to explain that Gordon couldn’t pick me up because he had called in sick. But, the social worker smiled, Gordon had given him a lead to a foster home that might take me in for a few days.

  I slumped in my seat and nodded my head. Yeah, yeah, I said to myself. How many times have I heard that before?

  A couple of hours later I burst from the county car and into Alice Turnbough’s living room. I hugged Alice with all my heart. Moments later the social worker knocked on the screen door before entering. “You two know each other?” he asked in a weary tone. My head rattled up and down like a puppy dog. “Mrs. Turnbough, I, ah . . . I know it’s kind of short notice, but we had a situation. . . . Can we place David here . . . for a while?” he pleaded.

  “Well, I really don’t have the room, and I can’t have him sharing a room with the girls. Is there any other . . . ?”

  My heart ached. I wanted to stay with Alice so badly. My eyes began to water as I looked up at the social worker, who hesitated for a moment. I then turned to Alice, who seemed to act the same.

  Alice shook her head. “I don’t think it’s right, for David, I mean. . . .”

  A long stretch of silence followed. I let go of Alice and gazed at the carpet. “Well,” Alice said in a defeated tone, “can you at least tell me how long you expect him to stay? I guess I can put him back on the couch. That is, if you don’t mind too much, David.”

  I clamped my eyes shut for the longest time. My head swam with a stream of endless thoughts. I didn’t care. I didn’t care whether I slept on a couch or a bed of nails. I just wanted to stay at a place that I could call home.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Coming Around

  My stay with the Turnboughs was day by day. The days turned into weeks, with
still no word of where I would end up. Out of frustration, Alice re-enrolled me into Parkside Junior High. As happy as I was to return to school to see my teachers again, I still felt a dark cloud over me. I dreaded walking to Alice’s home after school. I’d peek around the corner looking for a county car, knowing I’d soon be driven off. Every day, out of fear, I’d bug Alice in my desperate effort to find out any news from Gordon Hutchenson. I just wanted to know.

  As the weeks turned into months, I found myself still sleeping on the couch and living out of a grocery bag. My clothes became weathered and moldy because I only washed them on Saturday afternoon after 3:00 P.M. or on Sunday—I knew that those were the only times I was safe from being moved. After forgetting my pet turtle at the Catanzes, I didn’t want to take the chance of losing anything else again. Every night after everyone had gone to bed, I would pray on the couch that tomorrow Gordon would decide my fate.

  One day, when I returned to Alice’s home after school, she sat me down. I swallowed hard as I braced myself for the bad news. But no word had come. Alice informed me of something else: I would be seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow. I shook my head no. Alice went on to explain that she understood the problems about my former doctor. I was surprised that she knew so much about my past, when I hadn’t told her anything. “So, you’ve been talking to my probation officer, and he still hasn’t seen me?” I asked, feeling exposed and ashamed.

  Alice explained that she was working on a plan to have me placed with her, but it would take time to receive a license to have boys in her home. “But not to worry,” she stated. “Harold and I have decided that we’d like you to stay with us for a while.”

  Without hesitating I gave Alice a kiss. Then I thought about her last statement and gave her a frown. “You mean Harold wants me to stay, too?”

  Alice laughed. “Just because Harold doesn’t talk that much to you doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you. He just has a hard time understanding you. Frankly, I’m sure a lot of people would. But take my word, if Harold didn’t want you, you wouldn’t be here.” Her big hands wrapped around my skinny fingers. “Ol’ Leo likes you more than you know.”