September

Wesley—Fifteen Years Old

The necklace on the display is perfect. Anna’s birthday is next month, and this would be perfect. My problem, as always, is money. Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy pay me to mow their lawn. This comes in handy to buy new shoes or other random things that come up.

Our birthdays are ten days apart; mine is October 12, and Anna’s is October 22. Well, two years and ten days apart. I want to get her something awesome. October’s birthstone is tourmaline, which is a soft pink color. This necklace has a simple silver chain with a teardrop tourmaline pendant. Nothing too flashy, but pretty and striking all the same, just like Anna.

I stare at the price tag attached to the chain. Two hundred fifty dollars is way out of my budget. I just want to get it for her so badly.

I told the Andersons I wanted to earn some extra money, but they won’t drive me to a job. With transportation limited to my bike, I picked up a paper route. It sucks to wake up so early, but at least I get all my work done before school. Though, even with the money I earn mowing the lawn at the Bellamys’ and my paper route, I only have fifty dollars.

Shoulders slumped in defeat, I sigh and walk out of the jewelry store, trying to think of something else I could get her. I run my fingers through my hair and pull, frustrated with always being broke. If only I had a long-lost uncle who was wealthy and looking for me. That kind of thing never happens to people like me though.

As I walk home from the mall, I see Bryce Jeffries sitting at the bus stop ahead of me. He notices me approaching, and anxiety prickles at my stomach.

Just keep walking.

I avoid eye contact and keep walking past the bus stop, but it doesn’t work. He stands and falls into step next to me.

“Hey, Scott.”

I tip my chin up in greeting. Tattoos, piercings, and rippling muscles all add up to make him look menacing and dangerous. Bryce is a known drug dealer at school. If you’re looking for a substance to abuse, ask Bryce, and he’ll get it for you—for a price. I don’t mess with drugs though. I’ve seen what they can do to people. Many of my former foster families were involved in drugs. Sometimes, it’s the foster kids; sometimes, it’s the foster parents. So, I’ve stayed far away from him. Davis works for him though, and seems to be making a shitload of money.

“Davis tell you about my offer?”

My eyebrows rise. Davis hasn’t told me about any offer from Bryce. Not that I’m interested.

I shake my head.

He chuckles. “I figured as much. He’s a selfish bastard. He wants to keep the jobs all to himself, but I need another delivery boy.”

My stomach churns at the thought. He needs another dealer and it’s not going to be me.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested,” I say without looking his way.

“You sure? The job pays well. Two hundred fifty dollars a delivery. You wouldn’t be dealing. The cops are on my tail all the time, so I need a middleman. All you’d have to do is move a book bag from one location to another.”

My thoughts trip over that figure. I was just thinking about how much I needed two hundred fifty dollars.

But, no, I can’t. That’s not me.

I couldn’t live with myself if I put drugs in the hands of a parent who abused their child because they were high. Or even worse, in the hands of a teenager who became addicted and wasted their life away because of me. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.

We stop at an intersection.

“I’m sure,” I confirm, finally meeting his eyes.

In the last year, I’ve grown a couple of inches and gained twenty pounds. Between eating regular meals and working out with John in his basement, I’m not the scrawny kid I used to be.

His beady brown eyes meet mine, studying me. I hold my ground though, jaw clenched and expression serious.

He nods at me. “Okay, suit yourself. Thought you could use the money. Let me know if you change your mind.”

I’m not going to change my mind. No matter how much I want two hundred fifty dollars.

“What are you getting Anna for her birthday?” I ask John as we lift weights in his basement.

John grunts as he lifts and lowers the barbell. “I don’t know. My mom says she wants this new laptop. I was going to help them pick it out.”

A new laptop? Christ, I can’t compete with that.

“Why? Are you getting her something?”

“Yeah, I just can’t figure out what.”

“Well, don’t stress over it. Why don’t you get her movie tickets and promise to take her to the next chick flick? She’d be thrilled.”

Movie tickets. I can afford movie tickets, but that doesn’t compare to the necklace. Anna really gets me and makes me feel comfortable in my own skin. Like I’m not so alone, like she’s on my side, on my team, no matter what. When she looks at me, I don’t see judgment or pity. It feels like she just sees…me. Not my lack of family or money. Without her stepping in between me and Graham that day, I wouldn’t have become friends with John or become so close with the Bellamys.

I want to get her a gift that tells her how much she means to me. Something she’ll remember forever. Not stupid movie tickets.

“I’ll figure something out.” In the meantime, I’ll take my frustration out on these weights.

“I heard you turned Bryce down,” Davis says to me when I get back home that night. “You must be stupid.” Derision drips from his tone.

I shrug in response. I try to say as little as possible to Davis. Really, I try to stay as far away from him as I can. All interactions end up with him manipulating my words or him getting me into trouble.

One more year. I just have to deal with him for one more year.

Then, he’ll be eighteen—out of the foster system and out of my life.

“You think you’re better than me? At least I pay for my own things now, not like you, taking handouts from your rich friends.”

The jab lands perfectly. I hate taking things from John’s family. Wearing John’s old things is embarrassing, especially if someone notices. But John doesn’t act weird about it, and they insist that, if they didn’t give it to me, they’d donate it to other kids who needed it. It makes Mrs. Bellamy so happy to take care of me. I can see the warmth and affection in her eyes. She treats me better than Susan Anderson does. With Susan, I know I’m just a paycheck from the government. It’s clear that all I can expect from her is the bare minimum—one meal a day and a bed in her house. Mrs. Bellamy though talks to me about my day, gives me a hug every time she sees me, and goes out of her way to make sure I’m fed and clean.

I don’t respond to Davis. Instead, I fold up my clothes and put them in my duffel bag, zipping it up tight, like I do every night before bed. Everything I really need is in my duffel, just in case I have to leave this place fast.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, asshole.” The shove catches me off guard.

I spin around, braced for a fight, muscles coiled and ready. “What’s your problem?” I ask, waiting for him to shove me again, so I can hit him.

He is standing too close, his foul breath filling my nose, the sharp tang of his body odor making me nauseous. I worry that he might be on something, the way his dilated pupils ping from my right eye to my left. He pants heavily, all worked up from giving me shit.

“You’re my problem. You think you’re better than me, but you’re not. We’re the same; both of us are unwanted pieces of trash. The sooner you realize that, the better.”

My nostrils flare in response. My eyes burn, and a lump forms in the back of my throat, but I refuse to let him see how much his statement affects me. I stand tall, looking him dead in his eyes. My muscles tense, ready to strike, wanting to punch him so bad. I wait him out, trying to appear casual and unaffected.

“Don’t fool yourself into believing someone like Anna Bellamy will ever end up with someone like you.”

Hearing her name come out of his mouth pushes me over the edge. I snap, letting all my frustration and aggression travel through my arm as I pummel my fist into his face. The first punch lands solidly, his head whipping to the side. Blood trails from his nose when he turns back to me, eyes livid. His face contorts into an ugly grimace, and he charges with a roar.

I smile and brace myself, adrenaline rushing through my body. I welcome the fight, almost happy to unleash my anger on him some more. We land in between the beds, throwing punches, elbows, and knees. I hold my own, which is no small feat, considering Davis is older and bigger than me. He slams my head into the floor, but I retaliate by kicking out his knee.

“Fuck!” he cries out.

Then, he lands another punch to my face, the crunch of bone so loud in my own head. It’s broken. I know it immediately, but I feel no pain right now. Only rage.

“What the fuck is going on here?” a loud voice booms.

Shit.

It’s Billy Anderson.

We halt our attempt to kill each other long enough to realize this isn’t good. He warned us about fighting, and the last thing I want is to have to change foster homes and move schools again.

Not because I love it here.

But because the next foster house might not be in the same school district, and I don’t want to lose John and Anna. The fear of never seeing them again is enough to make me take a deep breath and try to calm down.

Before Davis has a chance to blame the whole thing on me, I raise my hands. “Sorry, my fault.”

My admission seems to take the wind out of Mr. Anderson’s sails. Blood trickles down my face as he inspects the both of us.

“No fighting in this house or else you’re out of here. That’s what I told you before.”

I nod and sit on the bed, defeated. “It won’t happen again,” I mutter, sure I just ruined the best setup I’ve had in a while.

“It won’t happen again,” Davis echoes. He has less time left in the system than I do.

“See that it doesn’t. This is your one pass. Don’t call my bluff; you’ll regret it. And wipe this blood off the floor!” The stench of stale alcohol and cigarette smoke lingers when he slams the door.

Davis and I ignore each other as we clean up the room and right ourselves. Part of me wants to go over to John’s house. I just know Mrs. Bellamy would take care of me like she did before, but I don’t want her to think I’m some hotheaded brawler. And I don’t want to scare them.

I wait until Davis crawls into bed before I hit the lights and get into mine. My duffel bag and book bag are behind me, and I lean my back against them, unable to relax until I hear Davis start to snore.

My thoughts don’t turn off easily, and sleep is far away.

I’ve felt like an unwanted pawn all my life. My mom died when I was two, so I don’t remember anything about her. I hope she loved me. I don’t have anything from that life though, not even any pictures of us together.

Visions of Anna come to mind. The smile that takes over her face when she sees me. The way she believed I could fix that drawer and was so proud when I did. More and more, I catch her looking at my mouth, making me think she wants to kiss me. God, how I’d like to kiss her. I close my eyes and imagine pressing my lips against hers. I imagine how sweet she’d taste and can almost smell her peach scent.

I’m terrified to try, worried that I’ve been reading her all wrong. Worried that John wouldn’t like it. Worried that Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy wouldn’t approve and wouldn’t welcome me in their house anymore.

One day, I’ll be worthy of her. Until then, I hope I see her in my dreams.