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“Living in foster care isn’t easy,” I went on. “I know that better than anyone does, but it doesn’t have to define you. Figure out what you want in life and go for it. Remember, a lifetime of possibilities.”
Erica nodded, even managing a small smile. “Thank you.” She rose from the bench. But before she walked away, she turned back and said, “My foster family… they’re not bad people. They just don’t get me. I just thought you should know that.”
I swiped the tears from my eyes as I watched her leave. When I looked over the dwindling group as the kids filed onto the buses, I found Blake watching me with the same sadness in his eyes.
He knew.
He knew what had just passed between Erica and me.
Somehow, he always knew.
* * *
Later that night, we sat around the campfire, but the mood was more somber than usual.
There had been something special about that group—we all felt it.
“Two down, three more to go,” Troy said. “Good job, guys. Keep up the hard work. Enjoy your downtime.”
He applauded the circle and left us to go in search of Tina, who hadn’t made it to the debrief this time.
I pulled my hoodie tighter to stave off the chill. Although the summer sun kept the days warm, evenings were starting to cool down already, and I noticed no one seemed as eager to skinny dip in the lake tonight.
“How are you feeling?” Marissa nudged my shoulder as she edged closer to the fire to toast a marshmallow.
“Okay, I guess. I was sad to see them leave.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t get any easier,” Sheridan said. “Some groups are harder to let go of, but tomorrow is a new day and a new set of teenage attitudes to deal with.”
She was sitting next to Sara who muttered something that sounded a lot like, ‘amen to that.’ We all laughed. Like Marissa and I, the two of them had developed a close friendship.
“Okay, since Troy isn’t here to kick us off with a song, I don’t mind stepping in.” Blake stood and retrieved Troy’s guitar, slipping the strap over his neck. His fingers plucked at the strings a couple of times as if he was getting reacquainted with the feel of them, and then he sat down on the overturned log.
Everyone watched him like it was a completely normal occurrence, even the new counselors. But to me, it was just another thing to add to the growing list of things I didn’t know about Blake Weston.
“I wrote this song a while back,” he said, finding me across the fire.
Blake could play.
His fingers worked the strings with ease, blending together to create a soft melody, but it wasn’t his guitar skills that had me in awe. It was his voice. Deep and gravelly, his sound filled the space around us until I was lost in his words.
I’ve never been one to say how I feel
Talk comes cheap, and I wanted it to be real
A touch of our hands as we lay under the sky
With you by my side, I felt like I could fly
She’s my lucky penny, my lucky penny
She’s my lucky penny, my lucky penny
Lucky, lucky, lucky, my lucky penny
You walked into my life and turned things around
Showed me how it felt to be found
