Silent (17 page)

I didn’t speak at all while we drove. Suzie talked a lot, her voice a drone that coated my already-sluggish mind with another blanket of numbness. I heard her say she was sorry, as usual, then speak a little about some lady named Eleanor, some man named Greg and their son who’d just graduated college. Then the words
grief counselor
passed through her lips a few times before it was back to
I’m so sorry
again.

I looked out the window, but I wasn’t really looking. It was just a way to keep from seeing the pity in Suzie’s eyes. I’d hated it when we’d first met, and now it was ten times worse because a part of me actually felt like I
should
be pitied—and that was a dangerous emotion to give in to. So I stared at the scenery, comfortably feeling next to nothing as we left the industrial buildings of Mid City and passed into the neatly tree-lined streets of West LA.

And I didn’t feel anything as the flat roads with trendy businesses became rolling hills with fancy houses, or as we drove by the large ornate sign that read
Bel Air.
I didn’t even bat an eyelash when Suzie pulled up in front of a white gate and rolled down her window to press a button on an intercom box.

“It’s Suzie Gardell from DCFS here with Alex.”

Suzie Gardell. I hadn’t even known she had a last name.

The gate opened, revealing a long cul-de-sac driveway. She drove down and parked a few feet away from a house big enough to be a fucking mansion, then turned off the engine and moved to face me.

“Alex, I know this is…I know this is hard. And I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all this…”

One of my last shreds of attention drifted off at yet another
sorry
.

“It’s understandable that you’re upset, but please don’t take it out on Mr. and Mrs. Richards. They’re very nice people and they’re here to help you. I just ask that you try to be respectful.”

I didn’t respond.

The front door of the house opened and a thin redhead came out, followed by a taller gray-haired man. The guy put his hand on his wife’s shoulder, and the two of them stood in front of their mansion like the poster couple for the American Dream.

“Let’s go meet them, okay?” Suzie said.

I got out of the car robotically, reaching back to grab my school bag.
Just like the last time
. A bitter smile crossed my lips. That backpack was all I had left in the entire world.

“Alex, I’m Eleanor.” The redhead stepped forward. I was surprised to see she was several inches shorter than me, dressed like a teenager in tight jean capris and a black tank top, though she was probably in her fifties. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened to your home.”

I remained silent. It might not have been polite, but I had a feeling Suzie’s real fear was that I’d suddenly wrestle someone to the ground and start throwing punches.

Eleanor looked troubled by my lack of response, but Suzie nodded for her to continue.

“Well, this is my husband, Greg…”

The man stepped forward and offered me his hand. I’d never been into older guys, but I could tell he’d been hot when he was younger, with his strong jaw line and defined cheekbones. She probably had been, too. They were Mr. and Mrs. Perfect.

I didn’t shake his hand.

After a few seconds of awkwardness, he tucked his arm back by his side.

“Alex has had a long day,” Suzie said apologetically.

“Of course he has!” Eleanor exclaimed, though she didn’t really raise her voice all that much. She was soft-spoken, like Suzie. “You must be tired, and hungry. Tell me, what would you like for dinner? We can get anything you like. Magda can make it, or we could order out…”

Meatloaf
popped into my head, but I squashed the thought and let silence follow while Eleanor’s eyes filled with more and more despair.

Eventually I turned to Suzie. She’d asked me to be respectful, and the truth was, I had no energy to fight. But I had no energy for anything else, either.

“I can’t do this right now,” I murmured to her.

She nodded immediately. “How about we let Alex settle into his room?”

“Right, yes, that’s a good idea.” Eleanor plastered on a nervous smile. “We have the room all set up…I do apologize, though, we were expecting someone…younger, so I decorated with a few of my son Dylan’s old things. But if you don’t like them you can always take them down.”

She kept yammering about Dylan and law school as she led us inside. I noticed her husband peeling off immediately and making his way toward a spacious living room. It was open to the rest of the house, all clean and white, with some huge artsy photograph of train tracks hanging on the wall. A chandelier dangled from an enormously high ceiling.

This place was the total opposite of Ms. Loretta’s…and in all that light, airy space, I felt completely lost.

I decided to focus on the floor, counting the steps it took to climb the spiral staircase. It wasn’t until we reached the end of the hallway that I finally raised my eyes from the cream-colored carpet.

“This will be your room right here.” Eleanor gestured, her freckles dark against her pale, anxious face.

I scanned the scene quickly. Baseball posters hung above large pieces of hardwood furniture, and in the center of the room was a queen-size bed covered by a blue Dodgers comforter. A teddy bear wearing a cap and holding a bat sat on the nightstand.

This was supposed to be
my
room? Craning my head, I caught a glimpse of a toy box in the corner. I had a feeling it was fully stocked.

“Is it all right?” Eleanor asked, hands twisting restlessly.

I just blinked. I had no more words. Was this how Seb felt when people spoke to him?

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Suzie answered for me, then put an arm on Eleanor’s shoulder and started guiding her out of the room.

I listened to the soft clip-clop of Suzie’s low heels and the clacking of Eleanor’s flats as they descended the stairs. For about thirty seconds, I was immensely relieved to have them gone…until I discovered some of the numbness fading.

One huge room in a mansion, all to myself. It was like winning the fucking jackpot. And yet for some reason, I had the strangest childish urge to crawl into a corner—or maybe behind that large armoire—and pull my legs up to my chest to keep the bad feelings from getting in.

What the fuck was
I
doing
here?
Ten hours ago I’d woken up in a room full of boys, dreaming of one in particular. I’d been on the verge of a kind of happiness I’d never felt before.

Now, I was alone. I wouldn’t hear Brandon and Dwayne thumping the basketball out in the backyard. I wouldn’t catch Andrew and Ryan scrambling through the house.

And I wouldn’t see Seb’s amazing almond eyes peering at me from the bunk next to mine.

Before I actually
did
crawl into a corner, I hurriedly made my way to the bed, lifted the blankets and slipped underneath. Then I tucked the edges securely around myself and pulled the covers all the way up over my head.

Suzie returned a few minutes later. Through the comforter I could make out the dark outline of her body leaning heavily against the doorframe.

“Alex, I’ll be back tomorrow. I know you’re going to need some time, so we won’t talk about school for the rest of this week. Please remember Eleanor and Greg are here to help. This won’t be a permanent placement, but I just wanted you to stay somewhere safe and comfortable while we work things out.”

I almost asked why I couldn’t have stayed somewhere with Brandon and Dwayne, before I realized it was my own behavior that had probably caused her to separate us. I’d flown off the deep end and attacked someone, and my punishment was a private bedroom in a mansion in Bel Air that I really didn’t want. Life was insane sometimes.

“Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”

Her quiet sigh filled the silence.

“If you need to talk to me, or if you want to speak to a counselor before tomorrow, please ask Eleanor to call me…I’m so sorry about all this, Alex.”

I stayed hidden for a few more seconds before throwing back the blankets and startling Suzie in her retreat. “Was he scared?”

“I’m sorry?” She turned around.

“Seb. Was he scared when you sent him away?”

She blinked several times. “I’m…I’m sure he was upset about what happened…about the fire…but no, he didn’t seem scared at all.”

Of course not. When did Seb ever show any emotion? Except for those few, brief, glorious smiles he’d given me.

My stomach hurt. No butterflies in there anymore. I had the feeling they’d all died and were now piled in a mass grave at the bottom of my gut, which would explain the knot in there.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Alex.”

I yanked the blankets back over my head.

After Suzie left, I had a few moments of peace. I might have dozed off for a while, because I didn’t hear Eleanor approaching the bed. She hovered a few feet away, her tiny body a blur of quivering black from my shrouded viewpoint.

“Would you like to have dinner, Alex? We’ve ordered pizza.”

I said nothing.

“Would you prefer something different?”

I rolled over to face the wall.

“Some pasta, maybe? Magda made lasagna yesterday. I think there’s leftovers.”

How long would I have to wait before she got the picture?

“Well, if you get hungry later, please let me know. I can make you something anytime you’d like.”

No locks on her cabinets, evidently.

She finally gave up, wisping out of the room like a frightened little gnat. I wondered what was so scary about my silence. Or maybe she was just frightened of
me
? I hadn’t actually done anything to cause that—yet—but I obviously wasn’t what she’d expected.

In any case, her feelings weren’t my concern. More time passed in the blue darkness, and it started to grow warm under there from the heat of my breath. I made a little hole for my mouth and nose so I could get some fresh air, but didn’t move very much.

The sun set outside, my blue surroundings gradually darkening until they were black. I listened carefully to the shuffling sounds as Eleanor and Greg—and I suppose Magda, whoever she was—puttered about the house. Eventually I heard closing doors and running sinks and then silence.

Too much silence.

When there was nothing but the faint chorus of crickets for what felt like ages, I ended up doing something I hadn’t done since the fifth grade.

I cried myself to sleep.

PART TWO

Chapter 13: Like a Brother

Eleanor and Suzie were murmuring out in the hallway while I pretended to be asleep. I wondered if Suzie realized I could hear them. Maybe she wanted me to know just how
concerned
they all were for me.

“He barely eats,” Eleanor whined. “He doesn’t speak to me, he hardly leaves the room…he hasn’t ever come down to join us at the table…”

“I know this is asking a lot for your first foster, but I really think he just needs some time to work through what’s happened. It’s a tremendous amount of change for a young boy.”

“Maybe…maybe it’s too much change. Maybe he’d be happier…somewhere else.”

Bitter, near-silent laughter left my lips. The woman was ready to pawn me off already.

“I did want to speak with him about a possible placement that would allow him to go back to his school in Mid City…”

“Maybe I should take him to my therapist? I’ve nothing against the one you brought, but she didn’t seem to get through to him. Dr. Eisenberg has a lot of experience with kids—he’s even seen my Dylan. And Greg and I would be happy to cover the expense.”

“We could consider that. Maybe give it another couple days. I can try to bring another counselor we work with—a male one. Maybe Alex will relate better to him.”

I doubted it.

The conversation drifted downstairs, leaving me to the silence. I wasn’t really that bothered by it anymore, though I found it easier to fall asleep during the day, when there was at least some noise to distract me from thinking.

Judging by the light streaming through the arched window, it was still before noon. I could expect a sandwich at my door in about an hour, so I decided to kill time by thumbing through a few of Dylan’s old sports magazines. I’d never really been into professional athletes, but at least
some
of the guys within the pages had to be good looking. It felt like ages since I’d seen anyone who’d made my heart beat a little faster.

At the edge of my mind, thoughts of Seb tried to push their way to center stage, but I fought them back. No sense in torturing myself.

Eventually I found a few pages on surfers, and that kept me occupied for a while. But it was only a mild interest—certainly nothing I felt inspired to act on—so after a few minutes I tossed the magazines aside. I hadn’t felt inspired by much since that last night with Seb.

Damn. Those memories were still lurking in my brain, just waiting to make me all depressed.

I got out of bed and headed over to the toy box, where I sifted through the mess of action figures and Legos. There was also a handheld videogame console in there, but I usually saved that for the nights I couldn’t fall asleep. So my only options were the TV and computer outside the room, or one worn-out old baseball that sat in the corner of the chest.

I chose the baseball. The less I was forced to interact with Greg and Eleanor, the better.

Settling back on the bed, I tossed the ball up in the air a few times while a lawnmower started outside. An older Latino man was toiling away on Eleanor and Greg’s yard, trimming the grass around the edge of their pool. I wondered if there was any chance he was from my neighborhood, and for a second I thought of calling out to ask before I realized how stupid that would be. There were thousands of Mexican gardeners in LA. What were the odds he lived near my home? And besides, what would I say to him even if he did?