Throw Away Teen (2 page)

The old bat I’d stayed with when I was five made sure to remind me that my real mom was a whore whenever possible. And my mom didn’t just sleep around. She sold herself to whoever had the bucks, which she spent on drugs.

My second caseworker told me my biological father was just one of her customers. Now he was in prison for murder. It happened when he tried to rob some guy and the guy fought back. It wasn’t my old man’s first robbery, but this was the one that went south. Murder meant “game over” and he was going to be in jail forever. As far as I knew, my mother was still a prostitute, unless she’d died of an overdose or STD. Nobody talked about her and I didn’t ask. Both of my parents lost any rights they had to me when I was a short shot, about two years old.

I was still short, five-feet-two. Like Gabe always said, “Dynamite comes in small packages.” He was the one who taught me to kick butt.

The cops took me away from my mother when they busted her for drug use. If she’d cleaned up her act and told a good sob story, she could’ve got me back, but it was apparently too much hassle. I was dumped on the system. Thrown away. It used to be easy to get a home when I was a cute, little kid. Not anymore.

It didn’t take me long to learn kids were taken for the money. The foster parents would rather keep the state’s money and not me. Whenever it seemed as if I liked a place, I got moved extra quick. And every time my first caseworker would say, “It’s better if you don’t get attached, sweetie.” The kids who survived were the ones who didn’t feel anything. After my first six homes I got to where I no longer cared, and I’d tell anyone who asked that in a heartbeat.

The best place I ever lived was the youth center. We had three meals a day with snacks. Nobody beat us. Hardly anyone bothered to yell at us, except for the director, Herphy Murphy. But we all ignored him.

I did great at the center, until Carol was assigned to my case. I had the worst record for any of the girls. And it gave me status. I’d been arrested for lots of different things, occasionally for stuff I’d actually done. I wasn’t leaving the center without a fight.

We were still headed north on the interstate toward Stewart Falls, so it wasn’t too late. If Carol took the next exit, we could return to the center and civilization in no time.

“
This won’t work, Carol. You know they won’t keep me.”

“
Settle down, B.J. You met Liz and Ted last month. They’ve visited every week since. They’re great people. They even took you out one night.”

“
Right,” I said. “Who wouldn’t want to go for burgers and a movie? That doesn’t mean I want to spend the weekend in the country with a couple of old geezers.”

Carol sighed and kept driving. “You’ll get used to it.”

The Driscolls were a paradox. Liz was short and fat while her husband, Ted, was tall and lean. He had white hair. She had long black hair with silver streaks. They both laughed a lot and you could actually see the laughter in their eyes. They were older than any of the other foster parents I’d ever had, almost like what I thought grandparents would be like. Only the Driscolls were nice.

I already knew it would hurt when they told Carol they wouldn’t keep me. Who needed the rejection? Not me. Not again.

I had plans for a good life and a real future. As soon as Irene and I turned eighteen, we’d head south to Vegas. We’d deal cards in a casino and make major bucks. We’d share a place and live great, with a fully stocked fridge, new furniture from a top-of-the-line store and designer clothes.

For now, I had to do whatever it took to get back to Irene, Terry, and Gabe. When Gabe had found out about my home visit, he loaned me his black leather jacket. And if the makeup and clothes didn’t do the trick, he planned to call tomorrow night. Nothing like an offensive phone call to scare off some old geezers.

Oh yeah, I was so winning this round.

But there wasn’t any point in dragging it out that long. I tried again to make Carol see reason. “You know I’m right. This isn’t going to work. Besides, Doc Murphy told me I’ve got ‘Alphabet Soup’. Attention Deficit Disorder, Attachment Disorder, Anger Management issues and that’s only the A’s. I’m a complete mess. There’s no way I’ll ever fit in with a normal family and you know it. If they want a pet, get them a freakin’ puppy.”

Carol shook her head as the traffic slowed to a crawl, then a stop. Her mouth tightened and she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “You don’t have Attention Deficit Disorder any more than I do. You’re able to sit still.” She gestured toward me, as though illustrating her point. “You focus on things when you want to and yes, your share of your room is a mess, but you organized it the other day when you wanted to go for burgers and a movie.”

“
Hello? I traded off with Terry to get the damn room clean because it was such a big deal to you and she’s such a neat-freak. That’s the only good thing about having a third person in our room. And, by the way, I’m not hyper. It’s ADD, Carol, not ADHD. It doesn’t mean I can focus on stupid crap. Why don’t you read your own textbooks? You might learn something.”

Carol sighed again and changed the subject. “I know you’ve been treated badly in the past, B.J., but not everyone is like that.” She was going for the voice of sweet reason and completely ignoring my sound argument. “All I’m asking is that you try. Give them a chance. No running away. Liz told me you could use the phone anytime. If things do go bad, call me, okay? But if you run off, I’ll send the cops after you again.”

“
Like they’ll bother looking for some foster kid,” I sneered. Maybe, if I got more obnoxious, she’d get pissed and turn the car around. “Grow a brain, Carol. They can’t tell us ‘throw-aways’ apart. And I’m not scared of them either. It’s not like they do
Amber
Alerts for the likes of me or my friends.”

“
They’ll look if I raise a big enough stink.” The cars around us began to move slowly again and Carol turned her attention back to driving. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you, B.J.?”

“
No,” I lied. If only she knew the truth. But I wasn’t going to let her start probing now. “I’ll bet Ted and Liz don’t know about my criminal record. They’ll probably freak when they find out.” I chuckled. “I’m so going to tell them. It’ll be awesome.”

“
You don’t need to because I already did.”

“
What?” I gaped at her. “And? It didn’t matter to them?”

“
No.” Carol signaled and inched her way over to the exit lane. “The Driscolls are different, B.J. I’ve told them everything I know about you. Sugar-coating the facts doesn’t work when I want to find a good home for you so I haven’t held back anything.”

Great. This was all I needed. Carol always claimed to be on my side. And now she was ratting me out to foster parents. Why didn’t she just slap a Post-It on my forehead that read
Loser
?

“
You don’t know that much. You suck at poker, Carol, remember?” I leaned back against the seat and gazed out the window at the stream of cars around us. “But they still want me to visit? Even after knowing my record? What are they? Crazy?”

“
No, just decent people who believe in giving back to the community.” Carol kept driving.

I kept my eyes fixed out the window and stared at the row upon row of stacked buildings that made up the city of Everett. It was a good sized town that buzzed with a major party vibe. I’d been stuck in a foster home here once when I was twelve and the kids I hung out with were all street trash like me. We partied every night and even on weekends. It took less than a month for me to get moved and another week to sober up afterwards. There’d been plenty of whisky at those parties and man, did I love that stuff. It warmed me all the way to my toes like nothing else could.

Gabe had a raging fit when he got wind of that little incident. He made me promise not to drink more than I could handle, so I wouldn’t be the guest of honor at a “gang bang.” I couldn’t say how many times he’d told me, ‘
Bad things happen to girls who pass out at parties
.’ They weren’t able to look out for themselves and I rarely had anyone to watch my back as it was. So, I promised him I’d leave the booze alone unless he or Irene were around.

As much as I disliked being forced into a weekend at a nursing home, it wouldn’t last long. They’d call Carol and beg her to come get me before noon tomorrow. I’d be back in Seattle by Saturday night, just in time to hang out with my friends. This would be a piece of cake. I was B.J. Larson after all. I could totally handle a couple of old people.

Carol took the next exit and headed further into the sticks. More trees lined the road. The only signs of life were the rows of “McMansions” perched on top of the hills.

I shuddered. “You said they lived in the city, Carol. This is
not
the city.”

“
You’ll get used to it. Did Liz tell you about her 4-H club, B.J.?”

“
No. What kind of club is it? Like bingo or something for senior citizens?”

Carol laughed and made a right turn onto the road for Stewart Falls. “I’ll let her tell you all about it.”

I saw sunlight glimmer off a lake through even more trees as we kept going for what seemed like forever. Finally, Carol pulled into a driveway and we followed it up to a house that looked even bigger and older than most of the other places we’d passed along the way.

The house was ominous. It stood three stories tall with two sprawling porches, bay windows that resembled bulging bug eyes, and spiky towers on the corners. “Jeez, this looks like something from a horror flick, Carol. You know the kind where the killer hides in the attic and the walls run with blood.”

“
Save it, B.J. You can’t shock me. But tell that one to Liz. I bet she’ll get a kick out of it. I won’t even mention the fact that you get sick to your stomach at the sight of blood, much less the fake stuff they use in Hollywood.”

How did she know? I was sure that question hadn’t come up the last time I lost at poker.

Carol pulled up beside a black B.M.W. and parked. “Nice scenery.” She pointed through the windshield at a guy mowing the front yard. Long blond hair curled down to brush bare sun-tanned shoulders. He wore dark blue shorts and grass-stained running shoes, his blue shirt had been dumped on a rose bush near the front porch. The sight of him made me wish I hadn’t gone for the “skank” approach.

Well, maybe he liked sluts. And I could always play the part.

When he spotted the car, he turned off the mower and came toward us. At first glance he seemed too tall and broad-shouldered to be a high-schooler, but on closer inspection he was probably around sixteen or seventeen. I could see the man he’d become in the planes and angles of his face, and I suddenly wanted to paint him.

Having a love for art and drawing didn’t fit my image so I usually kept it a secret, from the other kids at the center, from wanna-be parents, from everyone. Gabe had sent one kid to the hospital for teasing me about my drawings. I kept them well hidden after that. It helped that Irene had a fierce rep around Evergreen, too. Nobody came in our room because she’d kick their butts and then lie about it afterwards.

But Carol knew my secret, yet she never teased me. I still didn’t know how she’d found out since I hadn’t told her and I knew my friends wouldn’t either. But last Christmas, she gave me a set of oil paints and a special pad of canvas paper.

Still, I wasn’t going to give in. Did she think having a hot guy mowing the front lawn would make me change my mind? I’ll admit it was a nice touch though, so I let out a low whistle.

Carol laughed again. “Come on, girl.” She opened her door and climbed out. “Hi there.” She flashed him her caseworker smile and I rolled my eyes. “Are Liz and Ted around?”

“
Liz is inside and Ted’s at work.” The hunk brushed his hand off on his shorts then offered it to Carol. “I’m Ringo.”

Ringo
? Not that I was one to talk, but what kind of name was that?

“
Carol Peters and this is B.J.” She gestured toward the car.

That was my cue. I got out of the car, lifting my chin.

Ringo’s eyes were bluish, but it was a shade I hadn’t seen before. Silver, green, purple, and navy all rolled into one. Could I get the right color with my paints? Good thing I’d stuffed them in my pack before we left. Even with having Irene as a roommate, some of the kids at the center still didn’t understand the concept of private property. No telling what would happen to my art stuff or who would learn my secret if I left them there.

He kept staring down at me, not saying anything, and I had an odd feeling he saw straight through my fake veneer. His scrutiny was making me nervous but I kept my mouth shut. I grabbed my backpack off the floor of the car and slammed the door.

Carol winced, but I refused to feel guilty. She’d only been my caseworker since I got to Evergreen but I already knew a lot about her. Like how she’d worked two jobs through college and the Escort was her first car, her baby. And how really lousy she was at poker.

Ringo came closer and tried to take my pack. I held onto it as tightly as I could, but he lifted it away easily. “I’ll take this inside for you.” His voice was deep. It matched his eyes.

“
You don’t need to. I’m not staying long, anyway.”

Carol cleared her throat, shaking her head at me, but I ignored her. He eyed me again and I felt even smaller than my barely five foot height.

He grinned. “Well, aren’t you tough?”

“
Yeah, and I’m serious, so give it back.”

He shook his head and laughed. “Sure thing, shorty.” Then he turned and walked toward the house, still carrying my back-pack.

CHAPTER 2

I glowered after him, but Ringo never looked back. He walked like an athlete, light and graceful, like he was comfortable in his own skin. Gabe moved the same way, but Ringo might be able to beat him.
In more ways than one
. Still, Gabe was tougher than any other guy I knew. He’d bragged more than once about the knife fights he’d won. He’d even shown me some of his scars.