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Didn’t really help you feel welcomed.
In group homes, I’d lived by myself, had a roommate or been crammed with up to three other kids in a space the size of a broom closet.
As long as no one touched me or tried to crawl into bed with me, I’d ceased caring who I shared space with a long time ago.
Phillip Plant was a pipsqueak of a kid. I dubbed him Pip for short and he seemed pleased by the nickname. He’d only been in the system long enough to develop a healthy fear of everyone and everything. Little shit almost stabbed me with a pair of sewing scissors the first night, when the last shift counselor showed me to my room without informing Pip he had a new bunkmate.
Fun times.
Small for his age, he made an easy target for the older, rougher kids in the house. Something I’d put an end to my second night here.
“How’d it go?” he asked. “You’re back late.”
My first two weeks here were spent taking exams, going to therapy and adjusting to the new house and its many rules. All valuable time spent in the eyes of the state. Not like I was already behind or anything.
And teachers wondered why I struggled to live up to my “academic potential.”
“Not bad.” Was I going to sit and gush about Juliet to my roommate? Hell-fucking-no. I didn’t talk about personal shit with anyone.
“Evie said she saw you with a girl.”
I blew out an irritated breath. A few girls were housed on the third floor here. Evie Potts was their ringleader and she’d made it clear she wanted to bag the new guy. Girl couldn’t take a not-fucking-happening hint for shit.
“Evie needs to mind her own business.”
Pip shrugged. “Hottest girl in the house wants to blow you. Cry me a river.”
Dating, or even setting foot on the girls’ floor, was forbidden. Grounds for immediate removal to a much more secure facility. Even if I had been interested in what Evie was offering, I wasn’t going near her. I’d had enough of being yanked around. I planned to do whatever I could to make this the last stop on the foster care train. At least until graduation. If I ever fucking graduated. Some days I wasn’t so sure sticking it out was worth the effort.
I threw myself on my bed and dug out my history book. At some point, I’d need to gain access to the sole house computer to turn my assignment in, but I’d ask one of the counselors on the next shift. They seemed less stressed. I steadily read through the assigned chapters and scribbled down some notes. There was a lot to catch up on and I briefly considered asking Juliet to “tutor” me.
Normally, I could hyper-focus on my school work for short chunks of time—the result of rarely having a quiet place to study—but this afternoon, I found my mind wandering to Juliet often.
What was she doing?
Was she wondering the same about me?
Did her aunt and uncle treat her well?
I moved from History to my English assignment and groaned when I considered the instructions.
“Roman?” Pip’s quiet voice invaded my musings and I found him standing next to me holding out a bunch of worksheets.
“What’s up?” I asked, setting aside my notebook.
“Can you…?”
Understanding his reluctance to ask anyone for help, I took mercy on him. “Math homework?”
“Yeah. We got like three methods for solving this and I still don’t get it.”
I jerked my chin toward his desk. “I’ll help, but I ain’t doing it for ya.”
I pulled over another chair and sat next to him. For the next half-hour we steadily worked through the problems until he felt confident he would work the rest out on his own.
“Thank you, Roman. You explain it way better than Mr. Chin does.”
Uncomfortable with the compliment, I shrugged. “Hopefully, I’m right. Hey, I found something for you.”
I dug the pink mechanical pencil I’d swiped from the secretary’s desk when I’d been in the principal’s office. Lady had like a hundred of ‘em, so I didn’t think she’d mind donating one to Pip. Kid had an affinity for all things pink—something that got him picked on exactly as much as you’d expect—and I figured a pencil was small enough to hide.
His whole face lit up. “Oh, cool. The lead’s pink too!” He ran over to the desk and pulled a small sketch pad from the bottom drawer to try it out. I chuckled and went back to my homework.
“Aw, ain’t you two sweet,” someone said outside our room.
I jerked my head up and glared at the kid darkening our doorway. “Get lost, Squire.”
Sam Squire was the first kid to learn that the days of picking on Pip were over. Apparently he already needed a refresher.
“Get down to the kitchen, Squire!” someone else shouted. Sounded like a counselor. Squire slumped away and Pip relaxed.
Five minutes. Just five minutes of peace and quiet was all I wanted.
Eight
Juliet
After Roman left and my uncle went inside, I remained on the porch pretending to do my homework.
Really I was just waiting for my aunt to get home.
I learned as a little girl not to be alone in the house with my uncle if I could help it.
The awkward feeling from Roman’s almost-kiss lingered. I wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to kiss me. But the sick feeling rolling in my stomach stopped me cold. I didn’t want our first kiss to be in a house that held so many bad memories.
Thankfully, Aunt Susan arrived not much later, pulling me out of my obsessive thoughts.
She and I got along okay. I didn’t necessarily trust her to keep me safe, but she’d kept a roof over my head and food in my belly after my mother died, so I owed her some loyalty.
“Your niece has a boyfriend,” Uncle Jared said as soon as he saw his wife.
I rolled my eyes and went to the refrigerator to take out ingredients for tonight’s dinner.
“Who is he?” Aunt Susan asked.
“A new kid. His locker’s next to mine.” I didn’t volunteer that we were actually sharing my locker. It was my secret I didn’t want them butting in or trying to “fix” it with the school. “We have a few classes together.”
“He looks like a trouble-maker,” Uncle Jared said.
I wanted to say “no one asked you,” but I bit my tongue. It wouldn’t matter anyway.
Together, Aunt Susan and I fixed a quick dinner of roast chicken and vegetables with mashed potatoes. I thought about how I wished I were in a different situation where I could’ve asked Roman to stay for dinner. That I had normal parents who’d be interested in meeting my friends from school and allow them to hang out at my house.
But that wasn’t my life.
It was never my life.
My life was being raised by a single mother who worked her ass off to give me what she could—which wasn’t much with her high school education and waitressing job. But I loved her and felt loved by her and that was enough.
One night, she went out with her older sister to celebrate her birthday and never came home. A drunk driver hit them head-on. My Aunt Susan lost both her younger sisters and got stuck raising me. She and her husband never had children of their own, so I felt like the world’s worst consolation prize.
Aunt Sharon had a daughter, but she was old enough to fend for herself, sort of. Cousin Debbie met her own tragic end a few years later. Something we never talked about in this house. Once in a while I still saw her husband. I called him Uncle Dex and used to beg him to let me live with him when I was younger. I stopped asking a few years ago when I realized it might make him stop visiting.
“Why so quiet, sweetie?” Aunt Susan asked, passing me the bowl of mashed potatoes. “Thinking about the boy?”
“I have a lot of homework. That’s all.”
“No boy’s gonna be interested in you if you make him feel stupid all the time,” Uncle Jared pointed out.
I bit my tongue again. There were so many retorts that came to mind.
I’m not interested in
a boy who’s intimidated by my good grades.
Boys don’t factor into how I approach my school work.
And my personal favorite—Fuck right off, Uncle Jared, secure men don’t fear smart women.
Roman doesn’t. Not that we had a lot of time to talk, but I sensed his interest in what I had to say during English class. He didn’t mock me or call me nerd girl.
No, I could picture Roman encouraging me. I wondered if he wanted to go to college and what he wanted to study. He was in the foster care system, so was college even a possibility for him?
I don’t know why the thought distressed me so much. My academic future didn’t look all that bright.
Ever since I’d visited my cousin Debbie in the hospital after she gave birth, I’d wanted to be a NICU nurse. But no matter how good my grades were, my Aunt and Uncle had made it clear they didn’t have money to send me to college, nor would they be taking out any student loans on my behalf. I’d have to pray for one hell of an all-inclusive scholarship if I wanted out of this dump.
After dinner, I helped my aunt clean the kitchen and then quietly went upstairs to my room, locking the door behind me.
