Authors: Debi V. Smith
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Hunter and I talk at school daily before the first bell and during lunch. The looks from the other students go ignored. It doesn’t matter what they think. None of them know me anyway. They just assume they do.
Tomorrow is the last day of school and I’m studying for my finals in the kitchen. My head is so far into my notes that I don’t hear Manny enter the kitchen.
Thick hands grab my shoulders and knead at the knots. I go rigid under them and try to shrug him off. His hands remain firm.
“Don’t,” I say, taking measured breaths to stay calm. Erica is running errands.
“Relax, Sara.”
“Get your hands off me, Manny.”
I have nowhere to go. I’m pressed between the chair and table with Manny preventing me from pushing the chair back. A light thrumming of panic courses through me as my heart races like a thoroughbred running for the roses.
This can’t happen again. I scan the area, calculating my options.
“Shhh.” His hands run to my neck, light and caressing.
“
No!
” I explode into motion, shoving the table away and jumping out of my seat.
He heaves my chair aside and traps me, facing him, between his body and the table. He is short, but his thick muscles developed from years of heavy labor more than make up for his stature.
My head turns away from the overpowering scent of dry dirt and salty sweat wafting off his skin and work clothes. “Stop it!” I have to get out.
“I see you eyeing me every day, Sara. Don’t deny it.”
I have to get out
now
. “Fuck you!” The heels of my hands drive into him to push him away, pushing myself onto the table instead. His jaw drops, giving me the opening to kick him with all my fear and rage.
He stumbles back clutching his chest. “Fucking tease!”
I scramble off the table and make a mad dash to a neighbor’s house. I pound furiously on the door until an elderly Japanese woman with a cane opens it, letting me in to use the phone. I call nine-one-one first, then the Jerichos. Andrew answers and I beg for him to come get me, giving him the neighbor’s address.
Mrs. Tanaka serves me a cup of green tea. The warmth of the tea helps unjumble my nerves.
The police arrive first. Relief floods through me when I spot Deputy Cohen at the door. A male, Deputy Nelson, is with her. They listen while I detail what happened with Manny.
“Why aren’t you with the Jerichos?” Deputy Cohen asks, her brow pinched.
“Gillian had the judge take me away from them. They said living across the street wasn’t safe.”
Her lips round into a frown. “I’m sorry to hear that, Sara. We’ll be back when we’re done there.”
Andrew and Rose arrive while the deputies are next door. I hug them hard and let the tears fall. Mrs. Tanaka leaves us alone as I explain my life since Gillian dropped me off with the Lloyds.
Andrew wears the same angry expression he showed Gillian in the conference room. “Insurance shouldn’t have mattered,” he says. “We never took you off.”
“But I’m not with you.”
“We haven’t stopped fighting to get you back, sweetie,” Rose says, setting a hand on my arm. “Len called us looking for you and we put him in touch with Gloria when he called back after meeting with you.”
Andrew rubs my back. “This might be what we need to get you back. You were safer with us.”
Deputy Cohen returns with a man in a black shirt and jeans. Someone on-call for CPS. She informs me they arrested Manny. He denied touching me, but hadn’t cleaned up the mess. Erica came home while he was being questioned and sided with him.
Of course she did. She loves him. I’m just a foster kid she can never adopt and call her own.
Deputy Cohen also tells us investigators are coming to take evidence. On-Call Guy packed up my belongings and has them waiting in his car.
“What about my books and notes?” I ask.
“I’ll write you a note for school,” he answers.
“You’re going to write a note telling my teachers that I can’t take my finals because my books and notes now evidence?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says as if he realizes how ridiculous it sounds now.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Another foster home.”
“I want to go home. Please,” I beg, tears brimming.
Deputy Cohen turns away with her hand covering her face.
“I’m sorry,” he says, folding his hands in front of him. “The Jerichos aren’t an approved foster home.”
“A lot of good your ‘approved’ foster homes have done me,” I say, making air quotes and using all the cynicism at my disposal.
“Sara,” Rose says with a frown.
“I’m sorry, Rose, but it’s true. And Blake is no better, threatening me if I said anything.”
On-Call Guy sucks in a breath. “Those are dangerous allegations.”
“Why would I lie?” I ask, straightening my spine.
“Sara,” Rose runs a soothing hand down my arm, “this isn’t you.”
“This is what they made me, Rose.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
I wake up in a strange bed with a strange family in a strange home and get ready for school in a discombobulated haze. Three foster homes in three months will do that to a person. How many more homes will there be before I turn eighteen?
I eat the cereal my new foster mother gives me, then watch the world pass by outside the window as she drives me and my new foster brother to school. What’s the point in learning their names if it won’t last?
Hunter waits for me out front where he usually does before school starts.
Crap.
He bounces on the balls of his feet with a frown on his face. “That wasn’t Erica. Who was that?”
“My new foster mother and foster brother.”
His frown deepens. “Something happened.”
A replay of Manny pinning me to the table and the struggle to get away runs through my head. I hadn’t fully processed it last night with the move. Fear courses through me, even though the immediacy of the moment is gone. Tears fall faster than I can hold them back. He wraps his arms around me and I let it all out. The hatred. The bitterness. The fear. The loneliness. The grief. I hold on to him tight.
The first bell rings and forces us apart. He takes my hand and I don’t pull it away. I need the comfort right now.
“Manny tried to rape me last night while Erica was out,” I tell him on the way to class.
He squeezes my hand. He doesn’t have to say a word to give me solace.
“I don’t know if my new foster parents will let me go to your party Saturday.”
“It’s okay if they don’t.” He draws me into his embrace in front of my classroom. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
The first half of my finals drag like I’m stuck in slow motion. Lunch with Hunter is subdued because I’m in a daze between reliving last night and trying to remember information for the tests I’ve yet to take. He doesn’t push for conversation, but provides reassuring touches, letting me know I have his support.
The last three finals fly by. I don’t know how I did and I don’t care. I’m thankful for the end of the school year for once. I used to hate summer, because I had no reprieve from my family. Now I just want out of this flashpoint.
I ride the bus home with my foster brother. It’s crowded, no one sits still, and the non-stop chatter in the confined space is so loud I feel like I’m drowning. I hunch over, covering my ears.
I spot the sky blue Cadillac in front of the house from the bus stop and I run, bursting through the front door, searching. Andrew and Rose sit up on the sofa and smile.
My new foster mother smiles too. It’s the first time I notice how bright she is, with kindness highlighting her eyes. I’ve ignored her since my arrival. She didn’t deserve that.
My foster brother brushes by me and makes a beeline for the kitchen. I close the door, bracing myself for the worst. “Are you taking me home?”
“Pack your things,” Andrew answers, widening his smile.
I break into a grin. “I never unpacked!”
I rush to my room, stuff my dirty clothes on top, and grab my toothbrush on my way back.
On the way home, I ask, “How did you do it?”
“It was all Gloria,” Andrew answers. “Between what you reported to Len and your foster father being arrested, she had enough to file a motion to restore our guardianship immediately. I have a feeling some people are going to be out of jobs.”
“They deserve it.”
Damian’s car sits in the driveway when we arrive home. Andrew carries my bag and backpack and I follow him and Rose inside. A giant, painted WELCOME HOME, SARA banner hangs over the fireplace in the living room. Balloons litter the floor.
“Sara!” Arissa squeals, running out of the TV room.
“Riss!” She barrels into me, squeezing the air from my lungs like a python. “Oomph! Too much,” I squeak, wrapping my arms around her.
She slackens her hold enough for me to breathe easy. “I’ve missed you.” Her voice trembles from trying not to cry.
“I missed you so much, Riss.” Tears surface and fall. Surface and fall. Surface and fall.
“Stop crying. You’re making me cry.”
“You were crying first. You stop.”
We break apart and our tears morph into laughter.
“Do I get a hug?” Damian asks.
“Of course you do,” I answer, smiling.
He picks me up in a bear hug. “Glad you’re back,” he whispers. He sets me down and Arissa elbows me, then nods towards the hallway.
Familiar dark hazel eyes gaze back at me. Jason’s hands hide in the pockets of his cargo shorts.
This should be where I run into his embrace like they do in romance novels, TV shows, and movies. But I don’t belong in those mediums. My life isn’t printed in black across ivory pages. My life isn’t the new number one show on television or summer’s hottest blockbuster. I’m not the heroine. I’m the heroine’s friend you see on the side. No one cares about my story.
“You’re here,” I exhale.
“Where else would I be, Parker?” he asks, furrowing his brow.
I watch hurt drawing its way over bewilderment. “I thought…” This boy carried me away from my abusive father. He didn’t abandon me when I told him the whole truth.
Arissa and Damian sneak back to the TV room, leaving us alone. He closes in, waiting.
“What about Becky?” I ask.
“You saw me break up with her a long time ago. Why are you bringing her up?”
“Blake told me…oh, God.” Becky knows Blake somehow and she told him about her and Jason, all to get to me.
“Told you what?” he asks, still waiting.
“That you were back with Becky.”
“How would a guy I never met know that?”
“He said Andrew and Rose told him.” The tears return, burning hot trails down my cheeks. “You don’t understand, J.”
“What don’t I understand? Because I want to. Because no matter how many times Andrew and Rose explained it to me, I didn’t understand how they could rip you out of our lives.” His eyes darken and glisten. “I felt like they crushed my heart. Now you’re finally back and I discover you had so little faith in me.”
Stabbing pain hits me in the gut. I fall to my knees, covering my face with my hands. “This is all wrong.” He waited for me and I didn’t believe him. Everything good was taken from me and I lost hope.
“I didn’t get to say goodbye and had no idea when I’d see any of you again. They wouldn’t let me call you. They wouldn’t let me see Sam,” I explain. “I only managed to leave you that message because I was in a room at school alone after meeting with Len.”
“If you had let me be there with you...”
I tip my head up to him, still on his feet. “What were you going to do? Andrew and Rose were there and they couldn’t do anything. Gillian blindsided us.”
He kneels in front of me. “I don’t know, but at least I would’ve been with you.”
I don’t deserve him.
“You have that look on your face,” he says.
“What look?”
“The one you wear when you tell me you’re not the girl for me.”
“I’m not.” Fresh tears surface and wait their turn for release.
“Parker.” His hands cup my face. “It killed me when you left that message. I can’t undo all the shitty things your father did to you. Or your social workers. Or your foster parents. But,
I’m here
. For you. Don’t make me fight for you again.”
I choke down the tears.
His lips engage mine, parting them open. His warm lemon sugar tongue plays with mine, reminding me of his unwavering patience.
It’s overwhelming, realizing Jason means what he says and being back home. The tears I thought I swallowed, escape. He brushes them away with his thumbs while we kiss, as if they are insignificant and unworthy of attention.
He pulls away, leaving warmth on my lips like fresh cotton laundry right out of the dryer. I need more of it. I was denied it for too long. By my parents, by the state, and by my foster parents. I nearly denied myself.
I throw my arms around him, drawing his heat until I’m sated, knowing this is real.
I fill everyone in on life in Foster Hell while we pass the food around the table and assemble tacos.
“What does you testifying mean for all of us?” Arissa asks.
Andrew sets down the taco he was about to bite into and splays his hands on either side of his plate. “It means Sara may need extra therapy to help her deal with the stress. Or she may not. It means reporters may be calling or waiting outside for us. It means our life may be laid out publicly in court.”
“Will we have to testify?”
“Your mother and I, yes. You, maybe. We asked Len not to call you, since your mother and I will already be testifying. Jason, he might ask you, I don’t know.”
Everyone quiets for a few minutes and busies themselves with their food.
I catch Damian watching me, his expression serious. “Sara, I’ll be there with you for the trial.”
“Thanks, Damian.” I smile.
Jason covers my hand with his and says point blank, “I will ditch every day of school to be with you.”
“It’s Summer Break, Waters!” Arissa exclaims.
“And your point is?” he asks, every bit as serious as Damian.
She balls up her linen napkin and throws it at him. He catches it before it hits his face, grins, and throws it back at her, hitting her face.
I’ve missed this. I’ve missed them. I’m finally back where I belong.
“Can I get the dessert, Mom?” she asks, bouncing in her seat.
“Sure, sweetie.”
Arissa roots around in the refrigerator while Damian brings over the dessert plates and forks. She sets a small sheet cake with white frosting and lit candles in front of me.
“Happy belated birthday!” they chorus.
My mouth is agape. My birthday was three months ago and it passed without celebration like it always did the first fourteen years of my life.
“But it’s—”
“Come
on
,” Arissa says, making me smile with her usual impatience. “Make a wish and blow out the candles!”
“I don’t need to,” I glance around the table. “I already have it.” I expel every bit of air in my lungs to extinguish the candles in one go. I cut the lemon cake and Andrew passes the plates around the table.
Andrew and Rose give me a key to Rose’s car with the promise of getting my license. Arissa and Damian give me a rollerball of two Juicy Couture Malibu fragrances, one on each end of the stick. Jason gives me a charm bracelet with a food tray, book, basketball, calla lily, slice of pizza, and house charms already on it. He fastens it around my wrist. It’s perfect.
Jason lounges on my bed while I unpack. A vase of white calla lilies is on my desk, a surprise from Jason.
“Parker.”
“Hmmm?” I sort through my clothes, separating clean from dirty.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I dump the pile of dirty clothes into the hamper in my closet.
“Be honest with me. You were holding back before dinner.”
I shove a pile of shirts in a drawer. “I’m okay now that I’m home.” Jeans and shorts into another drawer.
“What about before?”
Underwear and bras go into the top drawer with socks. Methodical. “You wouldn’t have liked me at all, J.”
“What do you mean?”
I set the perfume on the vanity as I sit in my chair, my eyes downcast and playing with my fingers. “I was full of rage.” It’s hard to admit out loud because I never voiced it, I lived it. “I hated everything and almost everyone. My wrath was fuel for getting through the last three months. I think without it, I would have just given up. But I was just like my parents. Just like them.”
He sits in front of me and encloses my hands between his. “You did what you needed to survive.” He pulls me into his lap and weaves his fingers through my hair.
“I met Becky’s sister.”
He winces. “Please tell me she was nice.”
I shake my head. “Worse than Becky. She attacked me minutes after Hunter introduced us.”
“You met Hunter too? Why didn’t you tell us this during dinner?”
I nod. “Because the fights with Nicole weren’t my proudest moments.”
“You don’t have to edit out the ugly stuff, Parker. It can never be worse than what your father did and it can never make me stop loving you.” He kisses my chin.
I climb off his lap. “I should call Hunter and let him know I’m back where I belong.”
He pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
“Hey, Hunter,” I say after he answers the phone.
“Sara! I was wondering whose number this was. What did your foster mother say about Saturday?
“Nothing. I’m not there anymore.”
“What? They moved you again?”
“I’m home with the Jerichos. Their lawyer was able to get their guardianship back after last night.”
“That’s awesome! And Jason?”