The Guardian (28 page)

Raising myself up to my full height and matching her stiffness, I enunciate through my clenched jaw, “I’d rather give these things to him personally.”

She purses her thin coral lips into a petulant twist of color as she shrinks away from my challenge. “Look. Y’all best get out of here before Earl Senior gets home. You don’t want to get your friend into more trouble do you?”

My heart hitches painfully at her words, my anger propelling me a step forward. “What do you mean
‘more trouble’
?”

“Nothing.” Mrs. Eccles snaps her lips shut refusing to say more, and fearing she’s already said too much.

“He jus’ don’t listen is all,” adds the moon-faced boy at her back. “Daddy says he’s stupid and he’s gonna get it one of these days.”

“Shut up, E.J.!” She hisses a warning at him, but the boy stares at her, contempt in his piggish eyes. He scowls at his mother like she’s some worthless piece of garbage, to be used and discarded at will.

I see it then—the purple-black bruise under her left eye her makeup tries desperately to conceal. Like a puzzle, the pieces shift into place—the petty indolent child, the woman’s surliness, hidden bruises, lives spent in fear of violence—classic victims. The only respite from their miserable lives is taking out their impotence on those weaker and more helpless than them—those like Derry.

Pressing my advantage, I take another step forward and nod toward the left side of her face. “What’s wrong with your cheek?”

“Nothing.” Her eyes contract into hard, little slits like a snake. Slowly she reaches for the knob, tensing to close the door. “You’d best be going now.”

I move again, wedging my foot into the doorjamb. “You take me to him, this instant.”

“I don’t think so.” The hardness in her face makes it apparent I’m no threat when compared to Earl Senior. She slowly closes the door, the amount of pressure against my foot merely a warning, not enough to crush. “Now get gone before I turn the dog on you.” With a swift kick, she knocks my foot back, slamming the door, in my face.

“Let it go Alexia.” Gabriel’s voice is soothing in my ear but I don’t want to be soothed. I want to beat the door down—storm the castle with my sword and shield—to singlehandedly save my best friend. But my weapons are soup and a comic book. And the reality is, I can only make things worse for Derry.

Gabriel gently leads me away, but I vow it isn’t over. Not for me. Not by a long shot.

As we make the long, miserable walk back to the Fosters’, my frustration builds with each step until it is a giant monster on my back. Kate and Steven are already home by the time we get there, so Gabriel stops at the porch. He says something meant to be reassuring. Giving me a light kiss, he wishes me a good night before parting.
As if!

I’m too pissed to care if the Fosters found my detailed note. Or if they’re mad at me for getting home so late. When Kate calls me into the dining room, I reluctantly comply. Stomping though the house, I collapse at the table with a small huff. Kate’s champagne halo bubbles around her as she tries not to be overly nosy. She sneaks a peek at Steven before asking, “Is Derry okay?”

Although she’s trying to be supportive and is in no way responsible, I explode. “
I
wouldn’t know.
I
didn’t get to see him.”

Steven opens his mouth, surely to reprimand me for my tone, but before he can get a word out, Kate holds up a hand stopping his lecture. Even though she has every right to be offended, she displays nothing but sympathy as she asks, “What happened, Alex?”

I tell them everything. The small, crappy house and nasty little boy with the covetous eyes. The way Mrs. Eccles shut me down. When I get to the part about the bruise and my suspicions of domestic violence, Steven rebuffs me, “I’m sure you misinterpreted what you were seeing, Alex.”

In the face of his disbelief, my strained, simmering emotions boil over. “Why, because people don’t actually beat the crap out of their loved ones?”

“No,” he counters calmly, “because there are safeguards in place for foster children. Screenings the Eccles would need to pass.”

“Maybe they’re just good manipulators. They’ve certainly manipulated Derry into covering for them.”

With as much kindness as she possesses, Kate gently offers, “There’s got to be some other explanation.”

“But that’s not all! They never let him go anywhere, or even talk on the phone. He’s forced to shave his head and he didn’t even have proper winter clothes until Gabriel and I got them for him. And they don’t feed him enough. I’ve been sneaking him food because he’s getting so skinny. He’s like a walking skeleton.

“The Eccles make him responsible for other foster kids. Derry helps them with their homework, makes them a peanut butter sandwich for dinner—that’s all they get, one peanut butter sandwich—and gets them to bed. Every single night. It’s total crap! Every night the Eccles go out while Derry’s forced to babysit for free. On top of that, they’re always threatening to dump him back at The Children’s Center. Derry’s terrified of being sent away, and they use his fear to control him.”

After my tirade is finished Kate says, “Well that explains about the missing food.”

“Sorry.” My apology sounds hollow and halfhearted.

“Don’t be, Alex. You were doing the right thing. If Derry really is in trouble…” She stops to stare pleadingly at Steven with her empathetic, big brown eyes.

Too good to be impervious, Steven can’t resist his wife’s distress. Standing, he digs in his pocket for his keys. “Fine. I’ll go over there and talk to the Eccles to clear this up. I’ll personally check on Derrick and see how he’s doing.”

Before I realize what I’m doing, I throw my arms around Steven’s neck and thank him a half dozen times. Then, I hand him the directions and a bag with the soup and comic. With assurances everything will be fine, he leaves. Once he’s gone Kate and I settle in front of the television, staring at some reality show neither one of us can pay attention to, and resign ourselves to wait for his return.

We wait a lot longer than expected.

When Steven returns, he’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him. He bangs into the house leaving the front door wide open. Kate and I both jump to our feet speaking over one another.

“Well?”

“Did you see Derry? Is he all right?”

For a second Steven looks as if he needs an outlet for his fury and might punch the wall, but instead he takes a deep breath and lets it out in an unsteady whoosh. Wordlessly, he indicates the open door with a sweep of his hand.

At first there’s nothing—then a bustling sound. Derry tentatively pokes his head into the house, smiling a wan smile. “Hey, Lexi.”

“Derrick will be staying with us for the time being. Until we can get things sorted out.” Steven glances at Kate, mindful of surprising her. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Come on in, Derrick. Our home is your home.” She leads him forward. He’s wearing plaid pajama bottoms and a plain white t-shirt. Clutched in his hand is my digital picture frame and Gabriel’s duffel is slung over his shoulder. “We heard you were sick. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, Ma’am.”

Kate lifts her eyebrows in response. Under her silent scrutiny, he admits, “A little tired, I guess.”

Steven takes Derry’s duffel as Kate leads him to the couch. “Well, you just rest while we make up the guest room. I hope you don’t mind sharing a bathroom with Alex.”

Despite his fatigue Derry’s eyes are alight with joy. “A bathroom, huh?” He winks at me. “Not really, considering I’ve been sharing a room with four other boys and sleeping on the floor.”

Unable to check our reactions, Kate and I turn to Steven who presses his lips together, blanching them into white lines. “He was sleeping on one of those foam chairs that fold out into a bed—you know—like the kids use in college.”

“Oh.” Kate’s disapproval mirrors her husbands, making her appear severe. Visibly shaking off her reaction, she gives Derry a kind smile. “I’ll go get your room ready.”

“Thanks, Ma’am.”

Halfway out the door, she turns back to him. “Derrick, if you’re going to be living with us, then please call me Kate.” She exits with Steven tight on her heels.

Once we’re alone, Derry sags back against the couch while I try to get a grip on my emotions. Relief at seeing him, anger at the Eccles, the pain of knowing what my best friend has gone though, and joy that he’s landed here all fight for dominance in my head. Reeling with shock, I just stare, drinking him in like a cold glass of water for my parched soul.

His saffron halo dances around him, and although his eyes are closed, his mouth suddenly breaks into a huge grin of awareness. “Did Kate just say I live here now? With you?”

My own lips contort into a smile wide enough to match his. “It certainly seems that way.”

*

The next morning Derry seems much improved. He’s dressed and finishing a plate of eggs when I stumble into the kitchen. “Morning, Lexi,” he chirps. “Kate made breakfast. And packed us lunches.”

He slides me a plate while I try to shake off the cobwebs of a fretful sleep. “Why are you so happy?”

Instead of answering, he counters with a question of his own. “Why are you so grumpy?”

Shrugging, I try to articulate the swirling thoughts and emotions that have plagued me since Derry’s unexpected arrival. The best I can come up with is, “Last night was
a
lot
.”

Taking a sip of—
is that coffee?
—he asks carefully, “Are you sorry I’m here?”

“No!” Shaking my head to clear it, I try again to explain. “I was just so angry at what you’d gone through. Hurting for you, mad at myself, feeling like I’d let you down.”

“Please don’t beat yourself up, Lexi. None of it matters now. Don’t you see? That’s why I’m so happy—because we’re finally together again.”

I expect him to elaborate but he doesn’t.

After breakfast, I hurry to dress and fix my hair. I’m running a few minutes late and can almost feel Gabriel on the porch waiting. Finally ready, I step outside searching for his heartbreakingly beautiful face amidst the white glow of his halo.

His smile is stunning as he greets me with a simple “
Good morning
.” He gives me a small kiss tasting of peppermint and I’m enveloped in his fragrance of pine and wood smoke as he takes my backpack, hefting it over his shoulder.

The front door is wide open, and before I can explain, Derry steps out thrusting his bag into Gabriel’s open arms. With a wry smile he declares, “I’m not kissing you, Gabe.”

“Derry!” I elbow him in the ribs for his audacity.

“Sorry. I just thought it was part of your boyfriend’s concierge service.”

Snatching the bag out of Gabriel’s arms and thrusting it back at him, I retort, “It’s not.”

“Jeez, Lexi. Just a joke.”

Gabriel furrows his left brow as he waits for an explanation. “Oh yeah, Gabe, I live here now—with Lexi. Yep, Lexi and I share a bathroom.”

This time I don’t check my elbow as it jabs into his scrawny chest. “Derrick, that’s enough!”

Even doubled over in pain, he still manages to ask, “So I shouldn’t mention the pajama parties?”

Pushing Derry aside to talk to Gabriel, I peer into my boyfriend’s understanding, blue eyes, explaining, “Steven went to talk to Derry’s foster parents last night. Apparently, it didn’t go any better for him than it did for us. Although I don’t have all the details yet, Derry’s staying here until we can get things sorted out.”

“Correction,” Derry interrupts smugly, “Kate said I
live
here now.”

Over my head, Gabriel meets Derrick’s eyes. “I’m glad you’re out of that awful place and with Lexi. She loves you.”

I’m floored with how easily Gabriel gets it. Gets me. More than I even understand myself. No petty jealousy, no power struggles, just warm acceptance. “I love you both,” I clarify. It feels good to say so.

Neither boy responds. Something serious passes between them, an unspoken communication heavy with implications—then gone before I can question it. Vanished like a dust mote floating through a beam of sunlight. Before I have time to process my impression, Gabriel kisses the back of my hand and leads me down our seven blocks. He does his best to distract me with idle conversation about trivial things, while Derry trails quietly behind.

CHAPTER 15

Navigating my way through the cafeteria with Gabriel, I do my best, like always, to block out the mind-numbing chatter swirling around us. The truth is I could care less what’s being said. But when Naomi’s gossipy voice pierces my protective bubble, I can’t help but overhear,
“Did you hear the skinhead is living with Alex?”

At first, this means nothing. But as I glance her way, and catch her sidelong sneer, I realize she’s talking about me. And if I’m Alex, then ‘the skinhead’ must be Derry.

Dropping my bag on the floor with a thud, I sit next to my best friend demanding, “How long has Naomi been calling you ‘the skinhead’?”

Unconcerned, Derry shrugs. He slips his hand over mine and squeezes reassuringly. “Since my first day, I guess. Just ignore her. I do.”