by David Archer
SIX
THINGS HAPPENED QUICKLY. There was an emergency hearing held the very next morning, in which my grandparents got to speak to the judge privately, while I sat with a lawyer who had been hastily appointed for me. They were in with the judge for almost an hour, and when they came out, they sat at a different table in the courtroom and wouldn't even look at me.
The judge came in a few minutes later, and everybody had to stand up until he sat down. He looked at some papers he had carried in with him, then looked over at me.
“We're here this morning to hear a motion regarding the reinsertion of Noah Foster, a minor child, into the state's foster care system after an unsuccessful placement in the home of his grandparents. The grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Davidson, state that for various reasons they are unable to continue to provide adequate care for their grandson, and that he has no other living relatives. This makes him eligible for placement as a ward of the state, a condition he was in previously.” He looked over at my lawyer. “Mr. Digby, any objections or comments?”
My lawyer stood up. “None, Your Honor,” he said, and then he sat back down.
The judge looked at me. “Noah, do you understand what's going on here today?”
“Yes, Sir,” I said. “Grandpa and Grandma don't feel like I should live at their house anymore, so they want to let me go back to where I was.”
The judge grinned. “That's very close, and amazingly perceptive, but let me correct you on one detail. You won't be going back to the foster home you were in before, because we're in a different county, now. You'd be going into a foster home here.”
“Okay,” I said. At that moment, I didn't think it would matter to me.
The rest of the hearing was over in ten minutes. My grandparents left, and barely even said goodbye to me, mumbling something about seeing me when I came to get my things. I had to sit in the clerk's office for a while, because the local caseworker hadn't gotten there, yet. When he did show up, the first thing I noticed was that he acted like I was an interruption of his day.
He was introduced to me as Mr. Cantwell, and I felt an immediate distrust. Unlike Ms. Gamble, who made it clear that the kids she represented in the system were important to her, this man, I calculated quickly, cared about nothing but his paycheck. Immediately after we were introduced, he told me to follow him out the door, and he put me into the back seat of his car. He drove me to a group home, had me assigned a bed, then told me that someone would go and pick up my things at my grandparents' house the next day.
It was actually three days, and I was forced to wear the same clothes until my things were brought in. Mr. Cantwell was there, and he went through all of my things right in front of me. The first thing he said was that I could no longer have my weight bench, because it would make the other kids jealous. Before I could say a word, he had told one of the workers to go and load it into his car so that he could donate it to the Salvation Army.
He did the same with my books, even though I had had most of them when I’d been in the foster care system before. I tried to explain that to him, but he said that excessive possessions were prohibited under the rules of the department, and so they would also be donated. I tried to point out to him that the group home had a library, and if he was going to donate them anywhere then I would prefer they stayed there, but he simply told me to shut up.
That's when I decided that I wasn't going to put up with him. I thought briefly about simply challenging him, trying to scare him into doing things the way I wanted them done, but that would have probably gotten me into trouble. What I really wanted was to go back to Mrs. Connors' house, and to Ms. Gamble and my friends. I thought about it for a few minutes, then came up with a plan.
I was still attending the same school that I had gone to when I lived with my grandparents, and where I got along well with most of the teachers and students, so the next morning I went to school like always. I waited until lunch time, then slipped out the door and walked down the street to a convenience store, like many of us did during lunch break. Then, however, I went straight to the payphone on the side of the building. I had collected a pocketful of change by borrowing it from other kids that I knew, and I still remembered Ms. Gamble's phone number, so I dialed it and waited for the operator to tell me how much money to shove into the slots.
The problem was that it was lunch time, so I had to leave a message for Ms. Gamble. “Ms. Gamble,” I said, “this is Noah Foster. Something's happened, and my grandparents said I couldn't stay with them anymore, so they put me in a foster home over here. The problem is the caseworker here, it's this guy named Mr. Cantwell, and he's just weird. I mean, he looks at me real weird, and I'm just wondering if maybe there's any chance you could get me transferred to someone else, or maybe back over there. I'm at the county group home here, and I don't know their phone number, but I also go to Lincoln Elementary school. I think you could call me there, if you needed to. Bye.”
I hung up the phone, and went back to school. I made it just in time to get through the cafeteria line before it was too late for lunch, then went out to the playground to work out a bit on the jungle gym. I had found that I could do pull-ups on it, and swing bar to bar to help build my strength. It wasn't quite as good as lifting weights, but I enjoyed it all the same.
The bell rang, and I went back to my classes. It was almost two hours later when my name was called over the loudspeaker, telling me to come to the school office. I was sure I knew the reason, that it was Ms. Gamble calling me, but I was surprised when I entered the office to find two policemen there.
“Hello, Noah,” one of them said. “I'm Officer Hansen, and this is Officer Mitchell. We're here because a lady named Katherine Gamble, who works for the Department of Children and Family Services, has got an emergency court order to transfer you to her district, so that she can be your caseworker again. From what she said, I get the impression there's a problem with your current caseworker?”
I hadn't expected police involvement, and my plan was never intended to actually get Mr. Cantwell into trouble, so I wasn't quite sure what to do. “He doesn't care about the kids,” I said, “and sometimes he looks at me funny. You know, kind of weird, like—like he's wanting something I don’t want to do. Something creepy.”
Officer Hansen nodded, and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Well, from what Ms. Gamble said, I don't think you're going to need to worry about him anymore. She already got the court order, and wanted us to come and let you know that she is on her way to pick you up, right now.”
I was a little amazed that my phone call had gotten such quick results, but I filed it away for future reference. Sometimes, I decided, playing on people's emotions could be quite an effective tool to use. I wasn't likely to forget that lesson anytime soon.
Of course, I had heard enough stories of kids being abused in the system to know that my implication would be taken seriously. I didn't think at the time about the damage I might have been doing to Mr. Cantwell, but if I had, I would have considered it a favor I was doing for his other kids. If he lost his job, they had a chance to get someone better.
It was about a three-hour drive, so they let me go back to class for the rest of the day. Since all of my things were at the group home, I had been told to go ahead and ride the bus back there, so that Ms. Gamble could pick me and my things up. The rest of the day seemed to pass in a blur, and the sense of anticipation that was coursing through me almost seemed like a kind of excitement.
It was just after four when I got back to the group home, and I heard my name called as I got off the bus. I looked ahead, and there she was. Ms. Gamble, looking just as beautiful as ever, was standing at the front steps and waving at me.
I jogged up to where she stood, and when she threw her arms out to wrap them around me, I ran right into them. I don't want to give the wrong impression here, it's not that her hug was really any different from the ones my grandparents gave me, but if I had to be completely honest, then I'd have to say that I enjoye
d hers more. There was something about the physical feeling of her arms around me that was comfortable, and I think that a part of that was because there was no stiffness. When my grandparents went to give me a hug, they always seemed to be holding something back, and that made their arms feel stiff and not quite in full contact with me. I never got that feeling with Ms. Gamble.
“Noah, it's so good to see you,” she said. “I was so sorry when I got your message, I couldn't believe things didn't work out your grandparents. They seem like such nice people.”
“They are,” I said. “I think my grandmother was scared of me, though. You know, my problem? I don't think she understood it, and I think it made her feel scared.”
Ms. Gamble looked at me and grinned, shaking her head. “Young man, you always amaze me,” she said. “Even without the emotional side that most of us have, you manage to see the best in everyone.” She hugged me again, then took my hand and led me back inside. “Well, come on,” she said, “let's get your stuff. I borrowed a van, so I got room for everything all at once.”
It didn't take me long to pack everything up, since I no longer had as much as when I had left Mrs. Connors’. Ms. Gamble was surprised that I didn't have my books anymore, and got quite furious when I told her why. She told me to keep packing, and stomped out the door.
Ten minutes later, she was back. It turned out that my books and even my weight bench had never quite made it to the Salvation Army store. Mr. Cantwell had stored them in a warehouse that the department used, and Ms. Gamble had managed to read somebody the riot act loud enough that we were able to stop by and pick them up. It was an unexpected bonus, but it definitely reinforced my determination to learn more about how to exploit the feelings of others.
It didn't occur to me that exploiting such feelings might be a bad thing to do. From what I could see, just about everyone did it to everyone else, so it didn't look like something that might be wrong. Looking back, however, there must have been something about it that seemed not quite right to me, because I never mentioned it. I kept my conclusions about it to myself, and never wanted anyone to know when I was manipulating them that way.
Ms. Gamble stopped at a restaurant alongside the highway, and we had dinner there that night. She talked to me a lot about my grandparents, and what sort of things had happened since she saw me last.
“I can tell you've grown a lot,” she said, “and that weight bench might account for how fit you look. Noah, I don't think I've ever seen a boy your age who looked quite as muscular as you do. I think I read somewhere that it wasn't good for young kids to lift weights. Did your grandfather ever take you to a doctor, or discuss your weightlifting with one?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “They took me to the doctor about once a month, whether I really needed to go or not. It was Doctor Sweeney, and he was okay. He said I can handle the exercise, alright, and he gave me some information about vitamins and stuff he said my body would need. I've got like a year's supply of them in my stuff.”
She gave me her sideways grin, the one that meant she wanted to get a second opinion. I knew that she'd have me at a doctor's appointment pretty soon, just because that's one of the first things they do when you come into the system. It was another of those things I had learned to take in stride.
We got to Mrs. Connors' house at about eight thirty that evening, and I got hugged all over again. Mrs. Connors got me first, but it turned out that Molly, Lizzie and Jerry were all still there, so all three of them got me, too. Jimmy had been sent to the group home, something about being a smart-aleck to his teachers. I wasn't terribly surprised, but I'd probably get to see him again, because most of the group home kids went to the same school I'd be going back to.
There were some transient kids in, and one of them had my old bunk, so I had to take a different one. We carried all my things in, and Jerry helped quite a bit. Mrs. Connors was a little concerned about the weight bench, at first, but she let me set it up on the back porch, which was screened in. That way, she could control who had access to it, and I agreed to make sure no one used it, including me, without supervision. Of course, that usually meant I'd be doing the supervising, which was fine by me.
Everything was hectic, so the four of us didn't get to sit down and talk that night. Jerry and I sat on my bunk and talked for a while after lights out, but Mrs. Connors finally came in and told us we'd need to go ahead and go to bed, because of so many other kids being in the house at that time.
I didn't get to go to school the next morning, because they had to get me re-registered. I didn't mind, because it meant I got to spend the day with Mrs. Connors. She and I had always gotten along well, and she had always treated me like I was someone special. I guess, even for someone with my problems, that was something I needed.
I found out that there was a new long-term kid in the house, then, a boy who had come in not long after I’d left. He was around my age, and had been brought into the system because his father was abusive. Mrs. Connors said that when he arrived, he’d looked like nothing but a mass of bruises, and it had taken almost a month before he had stopped fighting and trying to escape. His name was Steve, and Mrs. Connors said that he and Jerry had started to become friends, so she hoped that I would accept him, as well.
It took me a little while to figure out what she meant, and then I was confused. Apparently, she had been afraid that I would be jealous that Steve and Jerry had become buddies, but that just didn't make any sense to me. Why should it matter to me if they were friends? Jerry had been my friend for a long time, and I hoped that Steve would become a new one, but whether they were friends shouldn't have any effect on it either way, or so I thought. It was another case of a lesson I needed to learn, and it probably came at a good time.
When all the kids got home that day, Jerry and Molly and Lizzie and I headed for our old favorite table in the day room. I looked around, but didn't see Steve, even though I had briefly been introduced to him the night before, so I knew what he looked like.
“Jerry,” I said, “this new kid, Steve, where's he at? Mrs. Connors says he's one of us, now, a long-term kid.”
Jerry shrugged. “I don't know,” he said. “Sometimes he just goes off on his own for a while.”
“He's a bit on the antisocial side,” Molly said. “Whenever somebody new comes around, it always takes a few days before he's willing to even talk to them.”
Lizzie snorted. “He's a jerk,” she said. “Every time I’ve tried to be nice to him, he just looked at me like I was something bad. I just ignore him, most of the time.”
Molly grinned at me. “Don't blame her, she needed a new crush after you left us,” she said. “If you remember, she used to talk about you the same way.”
I did remember. Lizzie had constantly tried to turn me into her boyfriend when I was there before, and the more her attempts went over my head, the harder she tried. On the other hand, I had often overheard her complaining about me, and I knew she had called me a jerk more than once. It suddenly dawned on me what Molly was saying, and I found it fascinating.
“Never mind that,” Jerry said. “Tell us what on earth happened that you ended up back here. What did you do to get in trouble?”
I shook my head. “I didn't do anything, at least not on purpose. I guess my grandmother couldn't figure me out, and it scared her. She told my grandpa that I was possessed by a demon.”
I had expected them all to laugh, but they didn't. Instead, all three of them suddenly leaned forward and looked closely at my eyes.
“I don't think that's it,” Molly said. “I think you'd be doing a lot of evil stuff, if you were possessed by a demon. Besides, that's what people always used to think when somebody was different from everyone around them.”
I looked at her. “Different how?” I asked. “You mean like me?”
Molly nodded. “Well, yeah, but not just cases like yours. Anytime somebody acted different, like if they had hallucinations, or heard voices or whatever. Even people like me,
kids who were super smart? There were times when they thought those kids had made a deal with the devil, or used witchcraft to get so smart, so they killed them.”
I looked at Molly and shrugged my shoulders. “I don't think people act like that anymore,” I said, “but don't worry, because I wouldn't let anyone kill you for being smart.”
For some reason, that got a laugh, so I ended up explaining about the mixed martial arts classes, and how I had actually gotten to the point of defeating my instructor. I wasn't boasting, simply telling them what had happened to me while I'd been gone, and they knew me well enough to understand that. Jerry thought it was cool, and asked if I could teach him some moves, and the next thing I knew, I was agreeing to teach him and both the girls.
Steve came in about that time, and Jerry introduced us. It only took a minute for me to see what Molly had been talking about, because Lizzie, for all her talk about Steve being such a “jerk,” made sure that he stayed very close to her. He also seemed to me to be a lot more attentive to her than she had let on, but I hadn't been around enough to properly judge the situation. I do remember feeling slightly relieved that Lizzie had found someone else to aim her affections at.
“I heard a lot about you,” Steve said. “When I first got here, it seemed like you’re all they talked about.”
I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. “We were all friends,” I said. “I went to live with my grandparents, but things didn't work out. I ended up back in a foster home, so I called my old caseworker here and she arranged for me to come back.”
Steve grinned and held out his hand. “Way cool,” he said, and I shook hands with him. “Miss Einstein thinks you're about the greatest. All I heard out of her the first few days was how much she missed you.”