by Angel Lawson
George opens his mouth to crack a joke, but Sierra shoots him a look. He sighs, runs his hands through his hair and gestures to Charlie. He speaks, the most I’ve ever heard.
He starts with the stress of living back at home. The cramped space and the expectations their father has on them. He tells them about how in some ways, it was better than before—as long as they stayed in the lines of their father’s approval—but the moment they stepped out, things fell apart.
I blink back tears as he describes the fight over the tournament, and my mother holds my hand when George jumps in, revealing the physical violence. I hear the hesitation to bring me into it, but I want them to. I’d told my mom and Leelee everything, including how I let the twins stay in the back cottage. I want the adults to know what we’ve been dealing with while they worry about licenses and bureaucracy. What happened when we were pushed to the edge by the adults that were supposed to be taking care of us.
When they’re finished talking, Mr. Jameson says, “There are so many things I should say right now. So many lectures and admonishments. The probation violations are too many to even count.” He sighs, looking too weary for his age. “But I’m not going to. This situation is a mess. I’m going to request a meeting with the judge to talk about Dexter’s situation. The conditions are extenuating.”
“Do you think he’ll listen?” Sierra asks. She looks thin and exhausted, hair braided sloppily.
“I hope so.”
“While we're there, I’m going to request an emergency meeting at the same time to review the twins' case. In the meantime, my supervisor has already approved Mrs. Nye as a temporary placement."
I look up in surprise.
“Really?”
“Yes.” My grandmother pats my leg. “You know how I feel about these boys, and I’m fed up with this situation.”
I lean over and give her a hug, squeezing tight. My mother has been uncharacteristically quiet during all of this but I’m not getting any of her normal judgment, either. Just support.
When the meeting is over, Leelee walks to the back cottage with the boys and Mrs. Delange, where they go in to see just how much of a mess they’ve made.
Mom stops me on the porch of our house. She studies me for a minute and I hate the scrutiny. Finally, I snap. “What?”
“I underestimated you, Starlee.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“In my mind, you’ve never stopped being that six-year-old that came home from school crying about Sophia picking on you. Or that eight-year-old that cried about the boys fighting at school. Or at ten, when getting out of the car was a challenge. You’d always forget your hair band or a sock or your homework. I figured you were sensitive, a little quirky and would grow out of it, but you didn’t. Things got worse and,” she touches my cheek gently, “you know. Things got bad.”
“They did,” I whisper, hating remembering those days.
“What I didn’t realize was that when I pulled you out of school and focused all my attention on helping you, I didn’t realize that I was helping you. And that you were helping yourself. And growing up and getting better.” She smiles at me. “You’re so strong, Starlee. You’re loyal and smart and you care for your friends fiercely.”
“I know what it’s like not to have any.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry about that. I was wrong about a lot of things and that is one that I regret the most.”
“They’re good boys,” I tell her, looking her in the eye. “They’ve been through a lot—really bad stuff—and, well, they didn’t have a mother or grandmother to take care of them. Just Sierra.”
“And you.”
I nod, because I do take care of them. Just like they take care of me. From the first moment Dexter saw me, he’d been fighting for me.
“We’ll do everything we can to help them,” she says, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it in a million ways. I hadn’t been able to say it before. I was too filled with resentment and fear.
She opens the door and we enter my grandmother’s house, warm and safe. I don’t know what will happen at the hearing, but I do know my family is by my side. And not only will they fight for me, they’ll fight for the wayward sons, too.
40
Dexter
I’m rummaging through my closet, looking for my suit jacket, when I hear a knock on my bedroom door.
“Yeah?” I say, glancing back. Sierra stands in the doorway. “I can’t find that stupid jacket.”
She walks over and pushes me aside, flipping through the clothes.
“It may be time to clean this out,” she says, noting the full rack.
I shrug. “I like everything.”
She stops and wrestles with a coat hanger, a second later she frees the jacket. She holds it up. “I hope it fits.”
I take it from her. “Yeah, me too.”
“You could borrow Jake's.”
“He’s two sizes bigger than me. I’d rather not look like a clown.” I toss the jacket next to the pants already laid out. It’s a testimony of how nervous I am that I’m actually sorting through this ahead of time.
She lifts a dark-blue and gray tie off a hook in the closet. She looks at it for a minute and holds it up to my chest. “Dad looked good in this tie. I remember he wore it to my graduation.”
I nod, trying to remember. That day is cloudy. Not just because it was so long ago, because I was stoned. What a jackass. I wasted so much time, so many memories.
I take the tie from her and lay it over the shoulder of the jacket.
She leans against my dresser. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I drop to the bed. “Yeah? What’s up?”
She twists her hands together, and not for the first time, I notice how tired she looks. “I don’t think I can do this anymore, Dex.”
I frown. “Do what? The hearing? I swear it’s the last one.”
“No, all of it. Taking care of you, the shop, the house, the boys…it’s too much. The last month has proven this.”
“What are you talking about? I know things have been a mess, but you’ve done everything right and the guys are almost back.” I stand up. “Once they’re here there will be more help at the shop and everything will calm down.”
“It’s not just that, Dex. I’m exhausted. I’m twenty-three and the mom of four juvenile delinquents. I’m running this shop and trying to make sure you’re not getting the neighbor pregnant or breaking the law, and there’s all the court hearings and because of me the twins got sent back with their dad.” Her eyes water. “Dex, their dad beat George. He beat him. He should have been here.”
“That was not your fault, and I’m not getting anyone pregnant.”
“No? You guys have had access to that back cottage for months. Don’t tell me nothing went on back there.”
I know for certain nothing went on with me back in that cottage, but I can’t say the same for the others. I clench my jaw and say nothing.
“Dammit, Dex.” She sighs. “The truth is I don’t care about all that, but I know I’m supposed to.”
“Sierra, you’re not making sense.”
“I know! Everything is lost and confused. I miss Mom and Dad. I miss having a normal life. I’m just…I’m in over my head.”
I step forward and wrap my arms around my sister, holding her tight. My heart aches for her. She’s right. She gave up years on me and the guys, all the bullshit that follows us around. It’s not fair and we owe her more. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
She shakes her head. “I meant what I said when I walked in here. I can’t do it anymore.”
“Then what?” Panic rises in my chest. If there’s been one constant in all this mess, it’s Sierra. “What are we supposed to do?”
“I’m going to talk to the judge tomorrow—before your hearing. Maybe with Mrs. Nye stepping up…we’ll figure it out.”
“And what if you don’t?”
She wipes her eyes, black eye-makeup smudges across her cheeks. “I love you, baby brother. I always have and I always will, but I need a minute to get my head on straight.”
I know I owe her this. We all do. Part of me hopes Judge Adams says no, forces her to stay, but I get it. She looks like hell. Feels like it too. I pull her into another hug, and just in case I don’t get another chance, take the chance to say, “I love you too.”
The shirt sleeves of my suit jacket are too short and it’s too tight across the back. I keep loosening my necktie but Starlee has come back three times to tighten and straighten it. I finally just accept it as a signal of what’s to come anyway.
“Stop fidgeting,” she says, taking my hand. I glance over her shoulder at the front door for the millionth time, but no one is there.
Sierra isn’t coming.
She’d given each of the boys a hug that morning and then left before we did, without any further details than the night before. She looked even more exhausted and I had a bad feeling about everything.
Mrs. Nye and Mrs. Jones drove us down, everyone feeling more comfortable with an adult in the car. Which wasn’t as awkward as it could’ve been. Mrs. Jones seems to be trying and I appreciate that. Mr. Jameson met us at the courthouse and when I asked, he said he hadn’t seen her either. Did she just up and vanish? Did she leave us?
I look over at the twins, both cleaned up, and Jake, who’s just here to testify if needed. There’s a lot riding on today for the three of us. If the judge agrees, I can be done with my probation for good. I touch my split lip. Yeah, that isn’t going to help.
The courtroom door opens and Mr. Jameson walks out, eyes cast down on his phone. There’s a line of worry on his forehead and I walk over and ask again. “Have you heard anything from my sister?”
He looks up and his eyes shift nervously. “Dex, hey, so listen. I talked to the judge. He seems to understand that what happened the other night was not your fault and he’s not going to include the incident in your hearing.”
Relief floods out of me. “Oh thank god.”
“Someone actually came forward from that night and corroborated your story.”
I glance at Starlee. She looks confused, too. “Who?”
Mr. Jameson opens the file and flips through a few pages. He stops on a police report. “It says her name is Christina?”
I blink. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, she and her father came into the police station the day after the arrests. She wanted to let them know that she’d seen the altercation in the parking lot and that Mr. Evans was the aggressor.”
Starlee’s hand tightens in mine. The bailiff opens the courtroom door and gestures to Mr. Jameson. He leaves us and walks over.
I turn to Starlee, her eyes are still wide with shock, probably mirroring my own.
“Do you think Christina’s up to something?” she asks.
“Maybe it’s her New Year’s resolution not to be an evil bitch?”
She laughs and gives me a tight hug, easing some of the worry about the hearing.
“Dexter,” Mr. Jameson calls, “they’re ready for us to come in.”
“All of us?”
“Yes. Mrs. Delange managed to get all of this under one family court hearing. Your probation hearing will go first and then there will be decisions made about the living situation.”
I nod and look over my shoulder. Starlee isn’t far away and I reach my hand out to her. She takes it and I’m filled, once again, with a sense of relief.
Except…
“Did Sierra text you?” I ask the twins and Jake. They all check their phones but shake their heads. I almost stop Mr. Jameson but I don’t. She told me this could happen. She warned me.
“The judge is ready,” he says. “You know making them wait only makes them more irritable.”
I nod, knowing this to be true. We all file into the room together. Me, the guys, Starlee and her mother and Mrs. Nye. Mrs. Delange is already at the front table, where in a normal case a lawyer would sit. The boys go sit next to her while Starlee and her family go the galley. I sit next to Mr. Jameson at the opposite table, trying my hardest not to rip this freaking tie off my neck.
Judge Adams is a thin man with dark hair and a thick mustache. He’s fair, way more so than the dramatic Judge Burns, who loves to lecture from the stand for hours on end. He walks in from his chambers—behind the bench. Juvenile court isn’t like a normal, adult court, but slightly modified, and this isn’t a criminal hearing anyway. This is just to talk about my future, and I hope no one can tell I’m sweating under this stifling suit.
“Hey,” I whisper to Jameson. “Where’s Sierra?”
He finally answers. “She called. She’s not going to be here.”
“What?” Panic grips me. “Is she okay?’
He nods and shifts his gaze to the bench.
“Good morning,” Judge Adams greets the courtroom. He’s always been cool to me, even if he’s tough.
“Good morning,” everyone replies.
“Dexter,” he says, motioning me to stand up. I push back my chair and do so. “Come stand up here.”
I glance back and catch Starlee’s eye. She smiles, giving me the courage to face my future.
I walk in front of the bench and stand just below Judge Adams.
“Dexter, we’ve been doing this for a long time now.”
“Two years, sir.”
“Yes, two years.” He fiddles a pen with his hands. “The first time you walked in here you were a scrawny kid. A frequent marijuana user, petty theft, and had an uncontrollable temper. You were consumed with grief, loss, and fear. To be honest, I didn’t have much hope for you. I thought for sure you’d be remanded to the adult system sooner than later, but,” he pauses, “here we are.”
It’s one of those breaks I’m not sure if I’m supposed to speak or not. So, I just nod, letting his commentary roll off my back. He’s speaking the truth.
“I’ve spoken with both Mr. Jameson and Mrs. Delange about current circumstances. Charges will not be filed against you on the latest situation. As much as I wish you were not involved in any kind of fighting, I am aware that sometimes this can be a challenge, and to hear you made an attempt to de-escalate the situation and to protect others is a step in the right direction.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Judge Adams looks me in the eye. “Your grades are good. Your attendance is perfect. You’re working and from what I understand, have developed a skill for culinary arts. You have six months left of high school and I want you to make the most of them. Apply for college or trade school.” He holds contact. “Don’t let me down, Dexter.”
I blink. “So I’m done?”
“Yes. You’re done—released from probation.”
I exhale, loud and long. I turn behind me, immediately looking for Sierra, but she’s not there. My eyes shift to Starlee, whose smile is bright, and her mother and Mrs. Nye both give me encouraging grins.
“I won’t let you down,” I say to Judge Adams, walking up to the bench and reaching over to shake his hand. He stands and clasps mine and it feels like the end of a deal. I hope to never see this man again.
“Take a seat, Dexter, we need to move to the family services part of this meeting.”
As much as I want to feel complete freedom right now, I can’t. Sierra’s still not here.
41
Starlee
Dexter looks like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off his shoulder as he takes his seat and Mrs. Delange and Mr. Jameson both stand, shifting to the middle of the courtroom. Dex glances over at the twins, but they shrug. Something is off. Sierra’s absence is notable.
“Judge Adams,” the female social worker begins, “as you know, Sierra Falco, the foster parent of these four boys, has pushed to get her license returned after a few questionable violations, that mostly stemmed from what seems to be false reports to the police and miscommunication.” She takes a breath. “Concerns about
their neighbor Starlee Jones is no longer an issue. She’s proven herself to be a good student, involved in community service and an asset to the community. The runaway status never should have been issued—an unfortunate clerical error that should have been addressed months ago.”
My cheeks heat when she mentions my name, but it’s nice to hear something good said about me. Jake, who sits on one side of me, bumps my leg with his and smiles.
“After the recent altercation between the Evans boys and their father, an attempt at reunification is no longer an option. Their father is awaiting trial for a series of crimes—all directly related to his violent behavior toward the boys.”
“I agree that they should definitely not be returned to their father,” Judge Adams says. I hold my breath. They may not have to go back, but where will they go?
Mr. Jameson speaks up. “As of this morning, the State was ready to reissue Ms. Falco’s license and allow the boys to return to her home. As you know, we’ve had a change in plans.”
Judge Adams frowns and leans forward on his elbows. “Yes, Ms. Falco came by my office this morning. I’m aware of her decision to relinquish her role as foster parent.”
“What?” Jake shouts, hopping from his seat next to me.
“Mr. Hollingsworth,” Judge Adams says, “please sit down.”
I reach for his hand and tug him down and he look down, panic-stricken.
The twins both shift uncomfortably in their seats. Charlie pushes his glasses up his nose and George rubs his neck. Dexter stares at his hands—his good news dashed in a heartbeat.
“So, we have four boys without a placement.”
“I’m eighteen,” Jake blurts.
“Yes,” Judge Adams says. “You’re of age, but you still have to have somewhere to live, and I know with your athletic aspirations you don’t have time for a job outside of the Wayward Sun.”
Jake’s jaw clenches and I take his hand. This boy is all about control and I can tell he feels it slipping through his fingers.
“So we need to look for immediate placement,” Judge Adams says. “Any suggestions?”