As the fosters grew—minds expanding—remarkably, the Weathers’ did the same. Standing in the living room, we high schoolers stared at the iPhones in our hands. They were refurbished instead of brand new, but we didn’t care.
Harmony explained, “It would make us feel better if we could get a hold of you. Or you can get a hold of us if… needed.”
She and Dale were gems. They really were.
Dale added, “Now, we’re not putting restrictions on phones. It’s your choice, but I hope you heed my warning about social media. I’ve seen it change my kids.” He looked down at his shoes. “Made them go to dark places.” He peered back at us, eyes full of pain. “One of whom never could escape.”
Audible gasps filled the room. Suicide. I was positive losing a foster kid like that killed a part of this man standing in front of us.
By the way, Harmony was lost in a numb stare, made it obvious it did the same to her.
And then I noticed Finn. He looked paler than usual. Even his freckles appeared dull. I couldn’t tell if it was shock or something that had hit too close to home. He never did tell me about his past. Of all my foster brothers, he kept his memories locked up the tightest. His hand rose, and long fingers gently rubbed a spot on the underside of his forearm, his gaze now faraway.
Then, like so many times before, he just left the room.
After a cough to clear his throat, Dale teased, “But texting girls is totally fine.”
Collectively, we took the opportunity to exit the heavy conversation and did some teasing of our own all at once. “Ohhhh, we talking dirty texting? … Come on, Dale. You can tell us. … Thumb get tired?”
I even put an arm around Harmony’s slender shoulders. “Anything ‘cool’ you wish to confess to clear your conscience?”
She gawked. “What?” Then playfully smacked me before walking—attempting to dance—away with a smile.
None of us ever opened social media accounts. Not until we needed a way for coded messages.
That’s when some fun ended, and nothing but worry replaced it.
Our poor Blue.
Chapter 13
Lightning Lessons
2 years later
Illusion or imagination…?
It’s true what they say, life moves on. There’s no stopping it. You can only hope to find some peace along the way. That’s what we did. In each other. No other fosters moved in or out. This house was full. I’m grateful for that time. It allowed us the safety and room to grow and count on each other. For most of us, fellow fosters began to nurture and fill the voids of dead parents or ease the pain of other unfortunate pasts. Making us legal—the Weathers’ adopting the ones of us who had no other family—had even been discussed, but Dale worried about rocking the boat. He said it was a lengthy and thorough process. For some reason, Kristen said it was best not to bring attention to our household. The last thing we needed was strangers poking into our dark pasts.
I think she was correct.
I no longer checked the windows every time a motorcycle drove by. That life felt distant. So long ago, some days I doubted if it was ever mine. I didn’t even have any of Noma’s frozen leftovers to hold on to. The rest had been consumed when needed. Either through celebration or a sad time that begged for comfort food.
A couple of relationships had bloomed far beyond close friends. Caleb and Sarah, Sebastian and Blue, each finding their way past innocent first kisses to more mature full-on commitments. Lifelong, I’d say. If they had been given a choice, that is.
Now juniors and one senior in high school, the boys and I were becoming ‘trees’ according to Harmony, who only smiled as if growing trees in her home was a dream come true. Sarah and Blue hadn’t grown much physically but were now, clearly, mature young women in high school.
It felt good to have them with us, where we could watch out for them. When they first joined us in school, things could’ve gotten awkward since the Misfits were a hot item, but I was with Tallulah, and Seb and Caleb technically lived with their girlfriends, so it was a natural transition. The girls even thought my nickname, Nine, was comical. They never used it, though. They said it was only funny when coming from someone as hot as Tallulah who looked like she wanted to eat me alive.
For real, how could I argue with that?
The chemistry between Tallulah and me was intense. Can’t lie. But our connection also ran deep. I admired her as she spoke of her tribe. She hadn’t been raised on a reservation, but hoped to contribute after college. She wanted to find her roots, thick in the culture of a beautiful heritage and beautiful spirits she looked up to.
During these times, Caleb and Sebastian hadn’t loomed over Sarah nor Blue possessively. Dale had advised that women need space and are not to be ‘owned’. Wish I could say I followed that advice like a good foster Misfit, but I rolled and drove in a different lane. Tallulah and I had lips connected or bodies connected, in one form or another, at all times. Every bystander and student knew she was off limits, and she loved it.
Naked, she would moan, “Who needs ten when nine are so damn good.”
Again, who was I to argue?
