Forevermore Page 3

  “I think it’s more likely that he’s not going to sleep at lights out.” I’d heard noise from Caleb’s room an hour or two later on many nights.

  “I might have to clear out his room every night, huh?”

  “Take the iPad away at least. Those brainless games are addictive.”

  “You always have good ideas.” Her eyes flashed before she pushed in for a kiss. Her mouth was soft and warm against mine. My stomach did a lazy summersault at the first press of her lips. Even three years later, a simple kiss exhilarated me.

  Pulling back, I sighed, resting my forehead against hers. “I better go if I want to beat the bell.”

  “Wear the kids out this afternoon so we can get them in bed early.” Her eyebrows bobbed playfully.

  I chuckled and brushed my mouth against hers once more before ending my happy diversion. “See you later, sweetheart.”

  M / 4

  At the elementary school I drove past the mile long line of cars waiting to pick up kids in the loading area and turned into the school’s parking lot. I’d tried waiting in the line once but sucking down exhaust fumes as we edged forward one car at a time lost its appeal after one try.

  The kids could ride the bus, but the schools were on the way home from campus and one of us needed to be at home for Olivia. Briony and I thought they were old enough to be home alone for a couple of hours after school, but Olivia’s social worker wasn’t there yet. Next year, possibly.

  Olivia came into view, walking alone, like usual. It pained me to see her not talking to the other kids. I knew she ate lunch with some fifth graders, but so far only a couple of kids in her class even acknowledged her let alone spoke to her. She thought I didn’t know, but I didn’t need to be an anthropologist to recognize the hordes of sixth grade girls as they emerged. She’d wave to a couple of kids from time to time, but no one huddled close and spoke animatedly whenever I came by to pick her up. I just hoped she could hold on until next year when she moved across the street to the middle school and changed classes every hour. She’d have a much better chance of making friends her own age since this wasn’t the only elementary school that would feed into the middle school. And with outgoing Caleb around, he’d introduce her to everyone he knew.

  She gave me a wide smile when she spotted me. I lived for that smile. Back in October when she first came to live with us, she barely spoke more than a few words voluntarily. Incredibly shy, she seemed to be waiting for us to just dump her back into the system. As Caleb drew her out, one of his best qualities, he helped make her feel more secure in our home life and now she smiled and talked freely. She’d probably never be a motor mouth, but she didn’t wait until someone asked her a question before she spoke anymore.

  “Hi, Olivia. Did you have a good day?”

  “Yep,” she said, like she always did. She could get upset when she couldn’t figure out her homework because she thought she wasn’t smart enough, but she never seemed to get upset that she didn’t have friends coming over to play or a best friend to share her secrets with.

  We took a seat on the low wall that sectioned off the landscaping from the sidewalk. Her feet dangled a few inches from the ground. Just a slip of a girl, she might not get much taller than me at five-two. Sunlit brown hair whipped across her face until she turned her head into the breeze. Stick straight, her hair dropped to her shoulder blades in one length. She looked cute as hell the way she was now, but she didn’t like that the tops of her ears pushed against the fine strands. Whenever someone outside the family focused on her, she’d self-consciously tucked it behind her ears. The sprinkle of freckles across her slightly protracted nose and big, milk chocolate eyes told me she’d grow into her looks. Thankfully, she wasn’t one of those girls who seemed concerned about that.

  “How’s your homework load?”

  “Just math and science tonight.” She smiled because she liked math and science. Language arts, what used to be called English in my day, was her least favorite.

  “Will you have enough time after dinner?” I’d been a little worried that work might cut into homework time every night. She took longer than Caleb to finish. If she came to us for help sooner, she’d get it done more quickly, but we admired that she tried to tackle everything on her own. Depending on the subject, Caleb might just give it a glance before heading right to us for help.

  “Yep. I did half my math worksheet when Mrs. Lomax got called to the office after lunch.”

  I nodded and looked up as I heard the middle school kids swarm out of the building across the street. Caleb, Hank, and Terrance would be here in a few minutes. I was their ride to Willa’s. The boys loved it, but it seemed to have lost its luster for Olivia. Caleb was the gamer in the house. She’d only play if he asked her. I could see how testing a new game might not be as appealing to her as it would be for the boys.

  “Are you still having fun at Willa’s?”

  Her head and shoulders bobbed in an enthusiastic display that wasn’t entirely genuine. She wouldn’t want to hurt Willa’s feelings or disappoint anyone by dropping out of a project.

  “We could tell her you have too much homework. She won’t mind.”

  She looked away, shrugging but shaking her head. I liked that she followed through on commitments, but I also knew the environment was overwhelming for her.

  “Hiya,” Caleb called out as he and the boys walked up to us. Due to a recent growth spurt, Caleb now stood two inches taller than Hank, but not yet as tall as Terrance. They were an odd bunch. From what I’d seen, most boys kept their hair the same length. These three bucked that trend. Hank had longish hair that looked like it needed a perpetual cut, Terrance’s curls were short but full, and Caleb asked me to keep his blond hair tight on the sides and a touch longer on top. He was the easiest haircut in the house.

  “Ready?” Hank signed rather than spoke as he’d been doing more and more lately. Terrance and Olivia were still learning sign language, but they knew enough to keep up. The rest of his friends made the effort to learn a good mix of words, so he wouldn’t have to read lips all the time. It made going to a hearing school much easier for him. Now that he had a fluent best friend, friends willing to try, and an interpreter for classes, he didn’t feel as isolated as he used to. He’d never be the chatterbox that Caleb was, but he could communicate with almost anyone now.

  “Let’s split, bananas,” Caleb signed and spoke almost as naturally as Hank and I did.

  I herded the kids to my car. In all my life, I never thought I’d become a parental unit who needed a minivan to sit four or more kids comfortably. At the dealership, I found I couldn’t go through with it and swerved toward the midsized SUVs instead. Coming from a coupe, I was still getting used to this massive people mover.

  Willa greeted us as the elevator opened on her floor. “My brilliant testers, perfect timing. Terrance, your mom needs to see you before you start. The rest of you, follow me. You can be my focus group.”

  We barely made it a few steps inside her now crammed office. Colorful posters, mugs, pens, bags, and boxes were scattered around the room.

  “Cool,” Caleb said as he took it all in.

  “We’re trying to decide what to order for game paraphernalia,” Willa told us. “Nykos and I can’t agree on what we like best. It’s up to you guys now.”

  Olivia glanced around as if worried that Nykos would appear. A big, loud guy, he intimidated me, too. If he weren’t so funny and good to Willa, I’d probably try to avoid him.

  The boys went to inspect everything closer. Olivia stood by my side, taking it all in from a distance. Everything looked market quality to me, but I knew Willa would only make some of these items available. She wasn’t into paraphernalia like her business partner was.

  “Rad,” Caleb said, holding up a blue and black messenger bag.

  “Epic.” Hank picked up the bag next to it in green instead of blue.

  “Your preference, Liv?” Willa asked, her eyes sliding briefly to mine. She was up t
o something, and I hoped I was guessing right about it.

  “They’re both nice,” Olivia told her.

  “How about this one?” She pulled a black backpack with purple side panels out of the box by her feet.

  Olivia’s favorite color. Yes, Willa’s intent became clear. Olivia’s backpack was falling apart. Briony had already sewn three patches into it because Olivia wouldn’t let us buy her a new one. She didn’t like us buying things for her. She was very money conscious. I suspected she’d been told time and time again just how expensive it was to raise kids by other foster parents. We’d used Christmas as an excuse to get her some much needed new clothes and Caleb’s birthday as another excuse to get her a new outfit so she wouldn’t feel left out with all the presents he got.

  “This one, huh?” Willa guessed when she noticed that Olivia’s eyes hadn’t left the backpack. “It’s about what we thought. We’re going to have to produce all three. You guys get the sample editions.”

  Bless her. I’d mentioned once that Olivia wouldn’t let us shop for her, and this wonderful woman figured out a way to get Olivia to take a much needed new backpack. Olivia’s eyes grew wide while the boys high fived each other and showed off their bags.

  “Liv?” Willa held out the backpack.

  “Don’t you need them?” Her eyes were still glued to the bag.

  “No, these are samples. We pick the best and tell the manufacturer to mass produce them. The ones that come off the line might be a little different, but not by much.”

  “Don’t you want it? Or someone who works here?” Olivia persisted, looking first at Willa then up to me.

  “Nope. We all have company logo bags, so these are yours. You’ll be my secret gorilla marketers at your school.” She tossed Olivia the bag.

  I reached a hand out to run over the material. It felt as good as it looked. Olivia zipped it open and went through all the inside pockets. “That’ll hold all your stuff, yeah?” She grinned and practically vibrated with excitement. “Briony’s going to be jealous she didn’t get one.”

  Her head snapped up and she pushed the bag toward me. “She can have this one.”

  My hand went to my heart. This kid was too considerate for words. She had something in her hands that she really wanted and she was willing to give it up. “Oh, sweetie, no. I was kidding. This bag’s perfect for you.” I glanced at Willa, who looked equally impressed with Olivia’s offer, and then we both looked away. I could feel tears prick my eyes.

  “Yeah, that one’s yours,” Willa confirmed. “If Briony wants one, I might let her buy one off our site. But only if she’s good.”

  “Thank you so much,” Olivia offered in an amazed voice, soliciting the same from the boys.

  “Maybe I want a backpack,” Caleb joked as he made a move toward her bag.

  “Keep your paws to yourself, punk,” Willa ordered and grabbed his shoulders, sliding him into a locking hold. Hank giggled as Caleb struggled to break the hold. He was getting a lot stronger, but that hold was pretty effective.

  “C’mon, guys,” Terrance shouted as he passed by Willa’s office on the way out to the lobby workstations.

  Willa let Caleb free and he and Hank sprinted after their friend. Olivia lingered, not as eager to get started.

  “Is Helen here yet?” I asked of Willa’s chef sister, who usually came to town to prepare dinners for Willa’s staff right before they launched a game.

  “Last night. She’s already whining about needing help in the kitchen. I should have checked Quinn’s schedule before deciding on a launch date. Normally they cook together.”

  “You’re not going to do it, are you?” I kidded. My friend was a wonderful, generous person, who ran her business better than anyone I’d ever met, but she was a disaster in the kitchen.

  “Ha-ha. I’m a pretty good prep chef. Just don’t let me cook anything.”

  “Liv’s a great cook,” I bragged and Olivia startled next to me before a blush hit her cheeks. She helped in the kitchen all the time and really seemed to like it. I didn’t think Willa would mind if I angled for a different job.

  “Really? Do you like it, Liv?” Willa asked her.

  “Sure,” she admitted.

  “My sister’s in town. She cooks for the crew during crunch time to ensure we get at least one healthy meal a day. She could use the help if you’re interested.”

  Olivia looked at me first, asking permission. She did this for almost everything—yet another habit picked up by living in foster homes. I swallowed hard as memories came flooding back. I’d hated the foster homes I lived in and not just because of what happened to me in one of them. Nothing felt good about living under different rules in every house, tiptoeing around the parents, avoiding the permanent and temporary kids, and never, ever feeling at home. For Olivia, hers weren’t nearly as bad, but they had been overpopulated.

  “I bet Helen would be grateful for the help,” I encouraged her.

  “Sous chefs earn five dollars more an hour than testers, Liv,” Willa said, making me want to both smack her and thank her. The kids were already making double minimum wage testing the games.

  “You’d pay me?” Olivia asked in wonder.

  “Of course. Helen’s going to work you pretty hard.”

  “She doesn’t mind having a kid around?”

  Willa shook her head and smiled. “She digs kids. You guys will get along great. If M has time, let’s all go over to meet her and help out a bit. If you like it, the job’s yours. If not, you come back with me and continue testing.”

  Olivia’s eyes pinged back to mine. “Do you have time?”

  I had papers to grade and had been looking forward to a couple of quiet hours at home, but this was a good opportunity for Olivia. Technically a work situation, she could be left alone with Helen without the need for a background check, but I could hear the social worker’s sound of disapproval in my head. I’d call her tomorrow to let her know that Olivia was reporting to a new supervisor. She liked to be consulted first, but she almost always agreed with our suggestions. Since Willa had already gone through a background check in case we needed child care, the social worker probably wouldn’t have an issue with Olivia’s change in work location. For today, I could chaperone especially since it would give Olivia more confidence with Helen. “Sure. If you don’t mind me grading papers while you guys work.”

  “Okay,” Olivia agreed, still somewhat subdued because she didn’t like showing her excitement. She’d been let down too many times before coming to live with us. It was the one thing I wish I could change about her, and I hoped to have a lot more time to work on it.

  5 / OLIVIA

  WHEN M AND BRIONY knocked on my bedroom door, I could tell something was wrong. They’d been really happy after Willa dropped me off from my last day cooking with Helen. All throughout dinner, everything seemed fine, but now something was wrong.

  Briony sat on the bed facing me at my desk. M placed a hand on her shoulder, standing behind her. This was different from other homes. When one kid got in trouble, whichever parent was home usually started yelling right away. Here, whenever Caleb did something wrong, one of them would tell him to stop and then wait for the other to get home to sit him down and talk it over together. Those talks always started just like this.

  “Your teacher called us today,” Briony said, and something heavy dropped in my stomach. The teacher calling was never a good thing. “She said you haven’t turned in your homework for two days. Is that true?”

  Darn. I should have known this teacher wouldn’t let it slide. That was the other bad thing about being a foster kid; everyone thinks they need to parent you. If it had been anyone else in my class, she would have given them an incomplete until they turned in the assignments. With me, she calls my foster parents to tell on me.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t get it done.”

  M nodded her head, looking like she wanted to say something, but thinking about it. M always thought before she spoke.

&n
bsp; “Why did you tell us you didn’t have any homework? We don’t lie to each other in this house.” Briony didn’t sound mad, but I knew she had to be. I lied and was going to get bad grades.

  I shook my head, upset at myself. My grades weren’t the best and not turning in these assignments wasn’t going to help. Briony and M were super smart college professors who taught super smart students. They had to be so disappointed in me.

  “Olivia?” Briony tried again, her tone firmer. She wasn’t yelling yet, but she wasn’t a yeller like some of the other foster parents.

  Tears pricked my eyes. I knew what this meant. Bad grades were one thing but lying wasn’t allowed. Caleb lost television and gaming privileges for two weeks the last time he lied about telling his mom he asked M for permission to go over to his friend’s house. This was a lot bigger deal than that. I wouldn’t be losing privileges for something major like this. No, it would be something much worse. I was so stupid. This home was the best thing going here and I went and screwed it up.

  Before they told me to do it, I stood and went to my closet. I reached for my duffle bag, feeling my throat go dry as I tried to remember which clothes I’d brought with me and which ones they’d given me.

  M was behind me before I heard her. “You’re not leaving. This isn’t…that’s not what we’re saying.”

  “Oh, honey, no,” Briony rushed over and grasped my arms. “Never.” She pulled me into a tight squeeze.

  I loved these hugs. She wasn’t the first foster parent to hug me, but Briony was really good at giving them. It wasn’t just when she thought she had to. Sometimes she’d just grab me or Caleb as we walked by for a surprise hug. I looked up and saw M watching us with a worried look on her face.

  “This is your home, Olivia,” M told me. “We won’t ever ask you to leave.”

  I shook my head against Briony’s shoulder, eyes feeling heavy and wet. I couldn’t believe what they were saying. They couldn’t mean they’d never kick me out. The foster mom before my last one told me the same thing. Three months later her husband left her, and she didn’t feel like keeping me and the two other foster kids anymore. It didn’t matter that I’d felt safer and more secure here than any other place. That I felt like it was the closest thing to living with my mom than any other place I’d lived. Every house kicks me out. I get too expensive or I don’t help out enough or the other kids in the house don’t like me or the parents didn’t want a dummy living in their home. I always get kicked out. Then it’s back to the group home where I try to disappear until I get placed in another foster home.