Follow Me Home

by Monica Goulet

  The light turns green again and Jay steps on the gas, taking a corner where a school comes into view. Kids stream out of the building and onto a school bus. Jay pulls up behind it. “Be right back,” he says.

  The bus behind me honks, and I hop into the driver’s seat to get myself out to the parking lot. I crane my neck until I spot Jay at the far end of the grassy area talking to a dark-haired girl. She’s pretty and looks older than thirteen, but I can tell she’s his sister. They have the same slightly pointy nose and skinny frame. The same dark hair. Jay leans toward Laura, his mouth moving quickly. She almost looks like a regular girl. But then I catch the pained look on her face when she talks to Jay. The way her hands are gripped into fists by her side. At thirteen, I don’t think I knew things like that could happen to someone. I didn’t know your whole world could turn upside down in an instant.

  I wish I still didn’t know.

  Someone calls to Laura and Jay straightens up. Laura runs toward a bus. Someone, probably a teacher, calls after Jay, but he’s already bolting, looking for the car. I put it into drive and go toward him, honking the horn slightly so he’ll see me.

  “Go,” he says, hopping in. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

  I step on the gas and head onto the street. “Where are we going now?”

  “You can take me back. I only have an hour left anyway.” His voice has changed. It’s flat and empty.

  “Everything okay?”

  Jay rubs his palms on his still-wet pants. “Laura is being adopted by her foster family.”

  I glance over at him.

  “She has bruises all over her arm,” he says.

  I try to swallow, but it feels like there’s sand in my throat. “What about the mother?”

  “She pretends it doesn’t happen. She’s the one pushing for the adoption.”

  I swallow the sand and spin my necklace around my throat. “What are you going to do?”

  “I have to get her out of there before the adoption is final. If I don’t, I’ll never be able to get custody of her.”

  “But how? You’re at Richmond House for another few months at least.”

  Jay looks at me. “I might need your help.”

  Chapter Twelve

  On Tuesday I take my sandwich outside for lunch and watch a soccer ball fly back and forth on the football field. When I watch it long enough, it reminds me of dancing, the way the players’ bodies are so in tune with the movements they hardly seem to have to think. I miss that feeling sometimes – of being able to forget about everything else and just have my body know what to do.

  “Hey stranger.”

  Taylor’s walking up the side of the hill, his hands in his pockets. I shove my sandwich back in my bag and wipe the mayonnaise off the corner of my mouth.

  “Where’s Melody?” I ask.

  “Inside with Ryan and Victoria,” he says, sitting down beside me.

  I lean back on my hands and watch the soccer ball sail out of bounds near the net.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Taylor says. “Melody and I have a history. I can’t screw that up. I do like you – just not like that.”

  “I know,” I say, not meeting his eyes. “It’s fine.”

  “Sorry I had to tell her.”

  “Why?”

  “She knows me too well. She’d know I was hiding something. It would be much worse if she found out later.”

  I sit up and cross my arms over my knees. “How mad is she?”

  Taylor shrugs. “Pretty mad. But she never stays angry about anything for long. She’ll get over it.”

  “You think so?”

  “I hope so. I kind of miss having you around.”

  I smile and run my fingers over the grass. I spot a clover I think has four leaves, but when I look closer, I can see it’s only three. “So you and Melody – you are an item I take it?”

  Taylor sighs. “Maybe. Girls are complicated.”

  “It’s fine, you know, if you can’t talk to me anymore. I understand.” And I do. I’ve never had friends who’d stand by me no matter what anyway. I thought I had that in Julie, but I turned out to be wrong. Now I just don’t expect anything.

  “I’ll still talk to you. Just maybe not in front of her quite yet,” Taylor says, leaning back on his elbows. “So how are things with the house? Did you find out if Jay actually did it?”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “On purpose?” Taylor asks.

  “Accidentally on purpose I guess you could say.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I pull out another clover. This one has a tiny fourth leaf almost too small to make out. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “Yeah, I saw him yesterday.”

  Taylor follows my gaze out to the field. “You must have been pissed when you found out he did it.”

  I shrug. “Yeah, I guess,” I say, even though when I dropped off Jay yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About Laura. And how I can help.

  “Will he do time?”

  “He’ll be in juvie until he turns eighteen.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it? I mean, Jay was a good guy. I think all that stuff he went through just messed him up. Maybe it’s the best place for him to be right now.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I say. I don’t want to talk to Taylor about Jay. I’m not sure he’d understand. I’m not sure anyone would.

  Taylor looks over at me. “Well, anyway, I came here to tell you I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I say.

  “And I’m sorry if Melody’s pissed at you.”

  The bell rings and I get up and brush the grass off my butt. “I’ll see you later, Taylor.” He waves but stays in his spot, watching the soccer ball float around on the field.

  ****

  After I get out of my last class, I stare at the piece of paper in my hand until the letters on it start to blur together. 178 Brock Street. Jay’s writing is loopy, but neat. His T’s are both crossed with the same line so it’s almost like he crossed the word out. When I was learning how to write, my mom told me you can tell a lot about a person by how neat their handwriting is. I could barely read Wes’s handwriting.

  I punch the address into my phone. It’s not far from here. Jay never said what to do with it – just handed it to me, and said, “Just in case.”

  I read the numbers on the houses until I get to 178 and stop on the sidewalk. The house is cute. Older, with brown shutters and red brick. Normal enough. A few tomato plants sprout up in the side yard, and the front garden is full of so many different flowers and plants I can’t begin to name them all. There’s a car outside.

  I take a deep breath and knock on the front door. There’s no sound at first, but then, footsteps. My hands are clammy and I quickly wipe them on my pants. A woman opens the door, and I take a step back.

  She opens it just enough for her body to fit through.

  “Hi there,” I say, trying to erase the shakiness from my voice. “I’m Kelsey and I’m, uh, new to the neighborhood, and I’m looking for some babysitting jobs. Do you have any kids?”

  The lady smiles slightly, opening the door a little further. She’s petite – shorter than me with light, greying hair. “Just one. But she’s thirteen. She can stay home alone now.”

  “Right,” I say. “Makes sense.” I try to look inside the doorway, but she’s blocking most of the view. “My family bought the house on the corner of Oakley Street. The one that burnt down?”

  Her eyes widen. “I heard about that. How terrible. I hope no one was hurt.” If she knew it was Laura’s old house, she doesn’t give it away. “I’m Sandra Dawson,” she says, holding out her hand. I shake it and hope my hands don’t feel too clammy. I study her face, noting the lines on her forehead and the faint purple mark below her eye that could just be her skin coloring.

  “I just thought maybe if I could get a job, I could help my parents out a bit.”

  She smiles an
d opens the door a little wider. “That’s sweet of you. I’m sorry I can’t help you. Hope it all works out.”

  I glance past her into the house. The light is dim compared to outside, but I can still make out Laura sitting at the table with a textbook. I smile back at Mrs. Dawson. I want so badly to pull her outside and tell her what Laura told Jay. I want to end this all right here. But I don’t think that was part of Jay’s plan.

  Although, this isn’t either.

  “What about tutoring?” I blurt out. “I’m an A student. I could help her with math or something.”

  “That’s nice of you. But we use the after school program with the high school.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know they had one.”

  Mrs. Dawson nods, and glances behind her into the house. A man comes down the stairs, and I back up a step.

  “Who’s at the door?” he says, walking up behind Laura.

  “Just a Girl Scout selling cookies,” Mrs. Dawson says, closing the crack again just a little. I can still see Laura, bent over her books. She doesn’t look up. The man puts his hands on her shoulders, and gives them a little squeeze. In that split second, I see her flinch just before Mrs. Dawson turns back around. “I’m sorry,” she says. “We can’t buy any today.”

  The door closes in my face before I can say another word.

  I can’t bring myself to go home, so I text my mom and tell her I have soccer tryouts. I have no intention of actually trying out for the soccer team, but I know she’ll be excited I’m getting involved, and when she asks about it later I can just say I didn’t make it. Instead, I go to the library and try to look up stuff on the foster system and abuse cases.

  I find newspaper articles on foster parents charged with abuse, but none of the articles follow up on whether or not the person was ever found guilty or what happened to the kid.

  By the time I tear myself away, it’s almost seven and I race to the detention center just in time for the last few minutes of visitors’ hours. It’s raining outside, and the florescent ceiling lights inside make me squint when I come in from the dark. It feels like a hospital minus the smell, and I wonder how Jay can stay here without going crazy.

  He walks into the visitors’ area in the same grey uniform he always wears. It washes out his face and makes his eyes dull. I wish he could wear the white shirt he had on the other day. It made his face softer.

  “I saw your sister,” I say.

  He leans forward in his chair. “How is she?”

  “We need to get her out of there,” I say. “Before things get worse. Maybe you should just report it. Say she told you about it.”

  Jay shakes his head. “They already know I want custody of Laura when I turn eighteen. They’ll never believe me.”

  “They’ll have to interview Laura before the adoption is approved. Don’t you think she’ll tell them?”

  “She’s too afraid of what will happen if she does. He already told her not to tell anyone.”

  I look away and tug on the ends of my sleeves. Wes told me that too. “Or what?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” Jay says. “But I don’t think she wants to find out.”

  “What if we told my parents? Maybe they could help us.”

  “We can’t. They’ll just call the police.”

  “But maybe they can get her out before he finds out.”

  He shakes his head. “Even if she does get out, she’ll just get put in another home. You don’t know what it’s like. She might not survive another home. I have to get her out myself.”

  I sigh. “Okay.” This is where I should tell him about knocking on the Dawson’s door. About the plan I have forming. But now I’m not sure it’s even a good idea. “So what are you going to do?” I ask.

  Jay leans his chair back so far I think it’s going to tip. “I don’t know.”

  His chair slams back to the ground, and I follow his gaze around the room. It’s starting to empty out. I rub my fingers around a small hair in my hand. An eyebrow hair. When did I pull it? I let the tiny hair float to the ground and run my hand over one of my eyebrows, but all I feel is makeup. I stick my hands under my thighs.

  “I had a good time the other day,” Jay says after a while.

  “Me too,” I say. “I like your secret spot.”

  He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re welcome there any time you like.” He spins the pink and green bracelet around on his wrist, and catches me watching. “Laura gave me this when she was ten,” he says. “She was so proud of it – every thread was perfect. I asked her why she didn’t want to keep it for herself, but she said she made it for me. I tucked it in a drawer somewhere and found it the day we got taken into custody.”

  He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, he doesn’t look at me. “We had an hour to take anything personal from the house we wanted. All I took was the bracelet and a couple photos. Nothing else seemed important anymore. When Laura saw me wearing it, it was the first time she stopped crying all day. I haven’t taken the bracelet off since.”

  I curl my toes in my shoes and stare at the bracelet again. I thought I knew what it felt like to lose everything, but now I’m not so sure. The buzzer sounds, and I jump. Jay and I both stay where we are until the room is almost empty and the security guard clears his throat beside us.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” I say.

  Jay nods. “I’ll be waiting.”

  We both stand there, awkwardly, and for a moment I want to hug him, but I think that would be weird. Instead, I give a little wave and walk out past the security guard. I can feel Jay watching me as I leave, and I desperately wish things had never gotten this complicated.

  ****

  When I get back to the rental house, both of my parents are sitting on the front porch. Never a good sign.

  “Where were you?” my mom asks, already standing when I get out of her car.

  I pretend to study a scuff on my shoe. “I had soccer tryouts after school, remember? I left you a message?”

  “I called the school,” she says. “There were no soccer tryouts.”

  I blink at my shoe, my mind blank. “Why’d you call the school?” I ask. I can tell by the look on my mom’s face it was the wrong thing to say.

  “I needed the car to get to a late appointment, and your father was out showing a house. I called to see if you could leave tryouts early. But you weren’t there. And you’re late on top of that.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, running a nail over my left eyebrow.

  “Where have you been the past few days, Kelsey? You haven’t been home much, and apparently it hasn’t been for extra-curricular activities.”

  “Depends how you define extra-curricular,” I say, under my breath.

  “What did you say?” she asks, her voice rising. I haven’t been in trouble in years, and the sound of her voice unnerves me. The Kelsey I’d been in Tulsa never went out at all, let alone lied about it.

  “I said I was with my friend Melody.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Or answer your phone at least?”

  I take my phone out of my pocket. “Sorry, it was off,” I say, holding it up for proof. “I just thought I had soccer tryouts, and then found out it was the wrong day, so I thought I’d hang out with Melody.”

  My mother sighs. She’s either buying it or just giving up. “Next time, call,” she says. “And we may have to rethink your car privileges.”

  “I’m sorry. And I will call next time.” I sit down next to my dad on a wicker chair and my mom does the same. The house came fully furnished, so for once, we have proper furniture in every room. I can tell my parents hate all of it.

  “Do you think we can rebuild our new house on the old lot?” I ask, staring out onto the street.

  “We’ll see,” my dad says. “I want to see if I can get a good amount for the lot first.”

  “And if you can’t?”

  “Then we’ll see about building there. It’s a pretty good l
ocation.”

  I pull my knees up to my chest and think of Jay’s mom and her house of gold. If someone else built a house there, they wouldn’t know that story. They wouldn’t know our story.

  “I think so too,” I say.

  Chapter Thirteen

  We’re supposed to be drawing houses in art class. It can be a huge, sprawling mansion, or a small shack, as long as we invoke a feeling with it, whatever that means. Whenever I start to draw a house, I can only picture smoke pouring out of the windows and flames devouring it, but I’m too embarrassed to draw that, so I stare at my blank page instead.

  I’m still staring at it when Victoria sits down beside me.

  “How’s it going?” she asks.

  I don’t look up. “Fine.” I start drawing some lines on my page, but I don’t know what they are yet.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” she says. “For the whole Melody and Taylor thing. I shouldn’t have told you to go for him.”

  I take my charcoal and make some smudges. They look like ashes. “Why did you?”

  “I was just tired of those two dancing around the subject. They obviously like each other. I thought if you showed an interest in Taylor, it might knock Melody to her senses.”

  “So you were using me.” I smudge the charcoal with my thumb until it’s all black.

  “I didn’t expect her to get pissed off at you. It’s not like they were actually dating. I just thought it would make her finally ask him out.”

  “Well that obviously didn’t work.”

  “I’m sorry.” Victoria gives me her puppy-dog face, and I try not to look. “She’ll come around eventually. Maybe if you tell her how sorry you are, she’ll just forgive you, and we can all be friends again.”

  “Me? Why don’t you tell her you practically pushed me on him?”

  “I can’t. If she thinks I was trying to manipulate her into getting with Taylor, she’ll never go for him.”