Zach, leaning against the recessed wall, shifted his weight. He was sorely tempted to return to the diner and buy more French fries—he had the money and the appetite. But he did not want the Asian men to see him. No fries were worth the risk of being taken by them again, no matter how hungry he was.
He pursed his lips. He couldn't stay here forever. He glanced at the towers above him. He didn't know where to go. He wished for a bed to hide under.
No… Not a bed. Mom and Dad had taught him that it was better to work on a solution to the problem than to hide. So he worked on a plan. He wanted to go home. He would go home, if only Mom and Dad hadn't sent him away. I didn't come out of her tummy. To her, I'm like any other kid…
His thoughts were muddled. He needed sleep, but he was afraid to close his eyes.
Mom and Dad—they didn't ask me to come to them… "Maybe we can find another place for you, then!" Mom had said. He had walked away, pretending her words had not stung, but they had. They had scared him, even if he hadn't believed she was serious at the time. Now, though…
Surely Mom and Dad had loved him for a while. It couldn't have been pretend. But now…how could they? He had been mean to Mom… He might have come from their cells, but he hadn't come from inside her… And if Mom couldn't really be a mother to him, how could Dad truly be his father?
Where will I go? Not home. To Uncle Ben and Aunt Lia's house? No. They would tell Mom and Dad. Derek and Shanice's house? No, same problem. What about Grover? Zach managed a half-grin at the thought of asking Grover to be his dad. But no, that wouldn't work out, either. The police? They would just take him to Hugh, or back to Mom and Dad, who would sell him again.
The children's home, the one where Ben and a few others from the church volunteered—maybe they would take Zach in. They found homes for kids without parents; well, that was Zach now. How did a person get to live there? Should he just walk in and say, "Hi, I'm an orphan, and I need a family"?
Zach considered. It would be a new life, though not the one he had hoped for. That life—he could never have it again. But I can ask the people at the children's home, he reasoned. If they try to take me back to Mom and Dad, I'll just run away. I'll find another place to go. Maybe I could live up in the mountains. But he didn't know how to live on his own; finding someone to adopt him would be better.
Adopt… His weary mind tried to link that word to something, someone. Why? Adopted…
Cayden! The connection snapped into place. Cayden is adopted! He and his mom don't look alike at all! Yet they were a family, Cayden and his mom and dad… He hadn't come from her tummy, but…she's his mom anyway!
Zach's heart began to pound and a murky haze lifted from his thoughts. Mom—she didn't have to bond with me when I came from her tummy. It doesn't matter if I didn't! And Dad—he didn't have to be there when it happened. Grandfather is wrong!
Images that made him happy and sad, warm and empty all at the same time flashed through his mind: Mom appearing in the doorway for the first time, the moment Dad had first walked into view, Zach gripping Mom's arm as they ascended to the saucer of the Space Needle…Mom red-faced in the underwear aisle at the store, Dad showing him how to break in his new baseball glove, Dad yelling, "No! No!" as Zach rounded third and raced for home… He heard Mom's voice on the phone this morning—"We want you back home, kiddo… I don't care about your room, Zach. We care about you, okay?"
Zach worked the problem. If Grandfather could be wrong about Mom, couldn't he also be wrong about the Asian guys—about Mom and Dad giving Zach to them and Hugh? What if Hugh had lied? What was it Grandfather had said to the Asian men just before he had seen Zach peeking in on them? "…very fortunate that you were watching at that moment, that you heard their argument…" What argument? Could they have been there on the street to hear Zach and Mom argue that morning? Then they had told Hugh…
"I'm not going to the children's home!" Zach exclaimed into the noise of the busy street. "I'm going to my home!"
But how? He was downtown. He needed to go south, but where from there? The house was at 6050 Spindler Avenue, on a hill that overlooked Boeing Field. But there were a lot of streets on that hill. Could he find it without the Asian men finding him first?
A horn blared in the traffic. If only he had a car—and, of course, a driver's license. No—a bus! Anybody could ride the bus, if they paid the fare; Mom had said so. And he had more than enough money. He would get on a bus and ask the driver how to get home!
Sucking up his courage in one great breath, Zach risked a quick look around his recessed wall. A couple of people who walked by glanced at him and hurried on; no one else paid him any attention. This looked like as good a chance to get away as any.
He joined the throng of people moving down the sidewalk in the rain and scanned for a bus stop. Dad had explained that there were always busses downtown. He jogged to one end of the block, but saw no sign of a bus stop. Jogging back to the other end did no good, either—the busses apparently did not run on this street.
But somewhere near here, he was sure, there had to be a bus, any bus! Zach waited for a break in the traffic and jogged across the street, heading away from Pike Place Market and deeper into the center of downtown. He dodged around other pedestrians and came to the stoplight at the end of the next block, at the corner of Second Avenue and Pine Street.
There were busses! But which one? Several were lined up to his left, across Pine Street. Eager to get further away from Pike Place Market and the Asian men, he ran across Pine. His legs felt almost as rubbery as before he had eaten the French fries, like they might collapse if he had to run much farther.
He reached the nearest bus, pushed impolitely onto it ahead of another passenger, and paid his fare. "How do I get to the hill by Boeing Field?" he demanded.
"Step out of the way and let the riders behind you get on, you rude punk!" the driver barked. Startled by the man's abrupt tone, Zach stepped back obediently and took the closest seat, right behind the door. Four people boarded after him, and then the driver pulled out into the street.
*****
The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 115