by S. A. Beck
But as she glanced at the marks in the scarred wood of the table, she gritted her teeth resolutely, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders. There was no point being fatalistic. She might finally find her place in the world or she might not, but whatever she faced next, she would endure. She was stronger than anyone gave her credit for being.
* * *
MARCH 14, 2016, SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
10:30 AM
Her clunky smartphone was safely tucked against her chest, and Jaxon rested her head on the cool glass window of her caseworker’s Elantra. They were driving at a sedate pace to Jaxon’s new prison, also known as the Forever Welcome Group Home for Juveniles. Helen Jenkins had scored Jax the cushy deal that landed her in the less restrictive facility, as Judge Colby certainly hadn’t been in a generous mood. Jaxon was grateful, but she was still anxious about getting there.
She gnawed on her bottom lip and glanced at Helen, one of the few constants in her life. Jax had been stuck with the same caseworker for years. The woman’s frizzy red hair framed a round, dimpled face. Helen had kind, concerned gray eyes, more often than not filled with disappointment when looking at Jax, and she had a matronly air. She was the closest thing to a mother that Jax had, but Helen wasn’t her mom. She was the poor, unfortunate fool who’d gotten stuck handling Jaxon’s mishaps.
“It’s really not that bad,” said Helen. “I’ve had kids placed in group homes before who end up loving the place.” She gripped the steering wheel and smiled as she stared straight ahead, ignoring Jaxon’s eye roll.
“That’s what you always say, Hels.”
“You should probably try a little harder to love it this time, Jax. I mean, c’mon. How many homes can you get kicked out of, huh? The Ramses were nice enough people. I can’t believe you didn’t work out with that family. What was so bad about Preston High that you had to fight your way to expulsion? Tell me that.”
Jaxon rolled her eyes again, unwilling to talk about the fights she’d had at school while placed with the Ramses. Friendly, jovial Helen wouldn’t understand. Jax had always been the runt of the litter, the easiest person to pick on. She was barely five feet tall and petite, and while Jax didn’t consider herself much of a looker, apparently other girls at her former school considered her enough of a threat to make her life miserable.
Jax was a fighter. She always had been and probably always would be. She sighed. “Maybe they should try a little harder to love me this time, Helen.”
Helen cleared her throat uneasily, wordlessly agreeing with Jaxon, and deflected the conversation with small talk Jaxon wasn’t in the mood to hear. Jax grumbled affirmations every few minutes while she zoned out to the music coming through earbuds attached to her smartphone, the guitars screaming and bass pounding in her eardrums.
She bit her nails as she stared out the window at the San Francisco landscape zipping past. The warm leather seat beneath her thighs and the hum of the tires against the pavement had a lulling effect, and she fought sleep. As Helen drove out of the suburbs, her gradual acceleration reminded Jaxon she was again running from one instability to another. That was the way it felt every time she had to move.
It was bittersweet not to belong to anyone, to hope against hope that something about herself might attract a mother or father. It was much like making a love connection—probably the ultimate love connection. Jax had given up hope of ever having real parents, but she was ready to at least have a life of her own.
Jax snuggled up in the seat with her feet tucked under her body and her face to the sunny window, and Helen finally left her alone. Jaxon had things to think. Her mind was a crowded playground of ideas.
The miles ticked away beneath her as she dozed, until sometime later, Jaxon stretched and looked around. The tinny sound of music came from the earbuds that had fallen out of her ears. “Damn, we’re not there yet?” She had fallen asleep and lost track of time. She couldn’t tell whether they had been traveling for minutes or hours, but the scenery was changing.
“Watch your language,” Helen muttered. The car accelerated and zoomed farther away from the suburban San Francisco Bay area, and the terrain became hilly. The white Hyundai Elantra turned off the main highway and kicked up a spray of gravel as it traveled down what looked like a forgotten road. The gray ribbon of asphalt curved and wound its way deeper and deeper into a world Jaxon found unfamiliar.
With no car in sight for miles, it was as if she and Helen were the only people remaining. The landscape grew lusher, with vibrant green hills and, in the distance, dense, darker green forests. There was something enchanting about the place that made Jaxon perk up and peer out the window.
Helen took note and flashed an encouraging half smile in her direction. “Not much farther,” she promised. “You’ll like it out here in the country. It’s peaceful, quiet. Look at the sky. Have you ever seen a blue so crystal clear?”
Jaxon tamped down her excitement at what she was seeing and slouched down in her seat, but the view beyond the window was unlike any she had ever seen, and she found herself sitting forward again after less than a mile. She was city born and city raised—in one household or another—and had never been farther than the suburbs. Snowy clouds shadowed vast fields of green. It seemed a lonesome place, sparsely populated, and it was easy to imagine that instead of traveling to some group home, they were going back in time to an era before humans existed.
After another turn and more miles of green ground and blue sky, the Elantra came upon a sprawling estate nestled in the valley of three hills. The manicured lawn stretched for acres and was enclosed by a brick and wrought-iron fence. Seeing the place—and knowing that she was arriving at her final destination before the foster system kicked her out into the real world—made Jaxon’s heart pound harder and faster in her bony rib cage. The front gate opened slowly as Helen’s car pulled up, and a sign read Forever Welcome. The house was a massive mansion, two stories high with gabled rooftops and an impressive entrance.
“This is it. Are you ready to start over?” Her social worker’s voice was light, as if Helen already knew the answer.
“I’m always ready, Hels,” said Jaxon. “My life is a book of do-overs.” Jaxon squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Helen’s hands tightened on the wheel, and she kept her troubled eyes pointed ahead. She sighed and shook her head, and Jaxon shrugged.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think you get any more second chances after this one. You’ve amassed quite a record between going to truancy court, the fights, and the squabbles with your foster parents. I had hoped you would—no—I know you have all the qualities people are looking for in a foster child, but it’s time you stop blaming others and take ownership for bad behavior. You’re not exactly Judge Colby’s favorite person, and frankly, my supervisor has been at my neck about devoting more of my time to your case than any of my others.”
“Typical,” Jax muttered.
“I say all that to say, I can’t come to your rescue anymore. The buck really stops here. If you can’t make it at this group home, I’m afraid you’re on your own.”
Jaxon’s eyes rose up and up to the top of the building and swept back down to the front door. The place wasn’t what she had expected. Limestone bricks walled the ground level, and stucco in a Tudor architectural design covered the second story. A balcony extended above large double doors, and windows seemed to stare at the car as it cruised into the circular drive and eased to a halt at the front steps.
Jaxon took a deep breath and pushed her smartphone into her pocket, knowing places like the group home liked to confiscate things that didn’t belong to them. She girded herself in the bravado she was known for—small and fierce—as the long-suffering Helen climbed out of the car with a grunt and sigh. The social worker stretched her stodgy body and trudged to the back of the car. The trunk popped open. Helen was saying something, but Jaxon wasn’t paying her any attention.
She was overwhelmed by the new environment
and scoping out the place. From the front seat of the car, she stared at the house. A rounded picture window took up the wall to the left of the front door, and she could see inside the house through the clear, dark glass. No busted-up furniture or scowling housemates were in sight. Her past experiences with welcomes made her wary of first days in a new place. Generally, there were cheery, bright falsities with undercurrents of the trouble to come. To find that no one was waiting at the window to greet her was… different. Jax didn’t know whether she should be grateful for the lack of fanfare or be even more on guard.
“Did you hear me, Jax?”
“What’s up?”
“Come help me get your bags, girlie. They’re waiting to meet you.”
Jax frowned, climbing slowly out of the car and sneaking glances at the house over her shoulder as she ambled to the trunk to grab her suitcase. It wasn’t as if she had a lot to carry inside. Helen marched ahead of her with the large Rubbermaid container holding the rest of her earthly possessions and rang the doorbell.
Jaxon waited at Helen’s side and, when the door opened, felt a twinge of satisfaction upon seeing the stern-faced woman who answered. At least something fits the stereotype, she thought with a smirk. The woman had lank brown hair around a squat, boorish face, and she was dressed in a gray housedress that looked as if it had been pulled out of a closet from the 1950s.
“Yes? What is it?” she growled.
“Um, I’m Helen Jenkins, social worker for Jaxon Andersen,” Helen said. The woman glared down at Jaxon and back at Helen. “I was told you were expecting us? I’m sure I have the right address. Forever Welcome, right?” The irony didn’t escape Jaxon, who snickered behind her hand. The woman at the door was hardly welcoming. “I spoke with Dr. Hollis a few hours ago,” Helen said.
Suddenly, another face appeared behind the scowler, and Helen stood up straighter to address the person beyond the woman. The man pushed forward with a friendly smile. “I’m Dr. Hollis, Ms. Jenkins—I’ll handle this, Faye—Come in. Come right in. Jaxon? Pleasure to meet you.” He wore an olive-colored tweed sweater, and glasses perched on the edge of his sharp nose. Waves of dark brown hair fell around his ears, and his smile was tucked in a thick beard. After shaking Helen’s hand, he reached out to shake Jaxon’s, but she hung back.
His warm smile didn’t waver. Dr. Hollis stepped out of the way and ushered his guests inside. Helen and Jax stepped from the humid heat into the cool interior. The entryway to Forever Welcome, in keeping with a group home, had a large oak cubbyhole by the door with brass nameplates above each square. Knapsacks, purses, outer garments, and other belongings filled the spaces, and Jax surreptitiously perused the names as Helen and the doctor conversed.
Helen placed the Rubbermaid container by the door, and Dr. Hollis called a staff member in a gray uniform to carry the box away. Jax followed him with her eyes, idly wondering if any of her belongings would come up missing. But Forever Welcome didn’t seem that sinister. Jax watched the original greeter march quietly down the hall and around a corner, thinking that perhaps she, too, was a staff member. Jax shrugged, putting aside her paranoia, and went back to looking around.
The walls of the entryway were a buff color, and the hardwood floor was covered in a dark red runner. The door was paneled with stained glass, its light washing the narrow space in sunny radiance. Along the opposite wall from the cubby was a bulletin board tacked with artwork and awards, and farther along the wall was a grouping of photographs. Jaxon set down her suitcase and slipped closer to look at the pictures.
“…Exactly as we discussed,” she overheard Helen saying. “She has had some trouble in the past with bullies, and it puts her on the defensive. Occasionally, she’ll lash out at imagined insults. Basically, any volatile situations should be avoided, so if you have anyone else with a fiery temperament, best to keep them separated.”
“Ach, well, we’re used to different personalities here at Welcome, Ms. Jenkins. I assure you our methods of treatment are sound.” The doctor sounded casual and self-assured, in marked contrast to Helen’s cautiousness and uncertainty.
“It was just a suggestion.” Helen bristled. Jaxon glanced at the adults and noticed the doctor’s placating smile, hand placed on the caseworker’s arm. Jax sighed and turned back to the photos, faces of young people who had come in and out of the group home over the years. She reached up to touch a picture of a young boy with a dog. Jaxon pulled back her hand and turned away, disheartened. Her picture might go up on that wall, but she didn’t belong there. She didn’t belong anywhere.
“Oh no, no, not to imply your suggestion is unwarranted, Ms. Jenkins. Not at all. It’s just to say I will personally do thorough testing and assign Ms. Andersen to the proper placement based on her results. But I appreciate your concern. As ever, your insight is invaluable.”
“Thank you,” Helen murmured, mollified. She blushed at the handsome psychiatrist and grinned girlishly until Jaxon materialized at her side with a bored glance at both of them.
“Right, so where’s my room?”
Dr. Hollis graciously gestured for the pair to follow him. Jaxon grimaced at the prospect of losing her only tenuous hold on the familiar. She waved nervously to Helen and followed Dr. Hollis past the great room she had seen from outside to the flight of stairs at the end of the corridor.
“Ms. Jenkins, if you can wait for me here in my office”—he stopped in front of an open archway to the left of the staircase and looked in on what appeared to be a study nook—“I’ll run Jaxon up to her new room and get back with you to do the paperwork. The director of the facility, Mr. Vance, will be joining us. This won’t take but a minute.”
“Of course. Of course.”
Dr. Hollis lugged Jaxon’s suitcase as she marched behind, and his bouncy brown hair fluttered around his face as he huffed and puffed his way up the lengthy flight. Jaxon looked down over the edge of the railing, trying to see what she hadn’t been able to view from the entryway.
“You’ll get a tour in a bit, Jaxon,” Dr. Hollis promised, as if reading her mind.
She looked up at him, startled, noting his clear brown eyes and ready smile. “It’s a little different than what I thought it would be.”
“Most people have the wrong impression about group homes,” he said. “But you’re right. It’s nothing like the norm. Here at Forever Welcome, we’re a private-run facility supplemented by government grants, and we offer a unique program for troubled youth. Our residents receive homeschooling and career preparedness courses as well as counseling and guidance to help get them ready for life beyond these walls. You should thank whoever sent you here, because we’re really not like any other.”
He told her she would have a private room and assured her that if she had any problems with her accommodations, he could be reached during office hours on weekdays. They breezed down a corridor where several bedrooms were located. “The east wing of the house,” he explained.
“It’s big,” she whispered in awe. Jaxon looked at the vaulted ceiling and wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she passed another open door. Frowning inhabitants peered back at her with distrust. The doctor strolled to the very end of the hall and opened the door to a small room that beckoned like an oasis in the desert.
“Take a look,” he said. “This will be your new home for the next two years. As I said, it’s a private room, but to be honest, you’ll likely have a roommate soon. We generally stay at capacity. Now, I’ll leave you to get settled in while I take care of some paperwork with your caseworker. You and I have a meeting at three o’clock. Please don’t be late. Do you remember how to get to my office?”
“I think so.”
“Excellent.” He smiled, and his dark brown eyes were warm. Jaxon found herself smiling back. “I have a feeling this is going to be a life-changing experience for you. I can only hope you’ll embrace the change. Have a good evening.”
He put down her suitcase and ducked out of her room, leaving Jaxon standing at
the threshold, peeking in. Her container was already in the room, and it looked un-tampered with. She took a tentative step onto the green carpet, feeling it sink underfoot, and her light blue eyes danced around the space, taking in the sights. Jaxon quietly shut her door behind her and leaned against the cool wood. The room was painted pristine white and had a newness to it.
Having come from homes where she’d had to share a bedroom with others or live in closet-sized quarters, she found the room a treat. Large enough for two beds, two desks, a large walk-in closet, and even a television stand, the bedroom seemed excessive compared to her standard fare.
Matching black duvets covered the twin beds positioned against the wall to her right, separated by a nightstand with an elegant rectangular lamp. Throw pillows on the beds were light green, like the carpet that covered the floor. Paintings hung on the walls—watercolors of flowers.
On the left, two small writing desks flanked the television stand. There were doors on either end of the wall—one to the closet and one to a personal bathroom. Jaxon bit her knuckle in anticipation as she tiptoed into the bathroom and looked around. It was painted a soft blue, tiled in matching blue and white, and a claw-foot tub dominated the design. A washbowl and toilet of her own. She wanted to jump with excitement. Jaxon was finding it hard to picture the place as punishment.
On closer inspection, the furniture and other elements of the room had a gently worn, secondhand feel, as if many others had shared the room before her. But the bedroom was clean and clearly well taken care of. The television was boxy and ancient, but when she hit the power button, it powered on in vivid high-definition. Jaxon let out a soft shriek of surprise and threw herself back on the bed closest to the window. She kicked off her shoes and squirmed around on the comfortable mattress.
