“I need your help.”

I’d met with Elaine Montgomery a total of five times, including the lunch when we’d first met. Over the course of three months, she pulled together almost two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to donate to the foster kids attending my school. Her version of “not much” had turned out to be two hundred dollars per student on an ongoing basis, split between cash and a variety of gift cards.

During that time, she’d texted me a bunch of times to check in. She usually started out by asking if there was anything specific the kids needed. Like last month, she made sure one of the gift cards was to a local Halloween store so everyone could get costumes. There were a lot of themed parties on campus, and she didn’t want any of us missing out on the fun just because we couldn’t afford to dress up like everyone else. She’d also arranged for us all to get a big discount so our purchases were super affordable. I’d even gotten in on the action, dressing up like a Disney princess. And not even a slutty one to the horror of the girls I hung out with that night. But it was the first time I’d ever had a real Halloween costume, and I figured I’d might as well live out one of my childhood fantasies if I was going to spend money—even if it was someone else’s—on something like that.

But our text conversations slowly morphed from all business into something more personal over time. Elaine made sure to ask how I was doing. If I’d done any more visits to local high schools. She’d even gotten in the habit of quizzing me on the boys in my life; or the lack of them really since I wasn’t dating anyone.

Although we’d grown closer, she only ever called when she wanted to arrange to meet up for an envelope handoff. And the last time was just a few days ago. Otherwise, she stuck to texts, so having her call unexpectedly let me know something serious was going on even before her request.

She’d never asked for anything in return for her generosity, until now, and there was only one answer I could give. “Whatever you need.”

“My son got into a spot of trouble.”

“Okay.” With just one word, I managed to convey my confusion about how I could help him. The Montgomerys had money. Lots of it. I’d only managed to keep my savings at its thousand-dollar balance because Elaine insisted on including an envelope for me each time we met. I couldn’t conceive of a situation where I’d be able to fix something their money couldn’t handle.

“Our family”—she paused, clearing her throat as though it was hard to get the next words out—“suffered a loss a few years ago. We’ve all struggled with it, but Dillon had a hard time finding a coping mechanism that helped him through the grief. When he started gambling, we tried to be understanding about it. We figured it was better than binge drinking or drugs. Or less risky, at least.”

I flashed back to the dingy living room where I’d found my mom’s lifeless body. “I’ve seen what drugs can do to a person, and less risky is an understatement.”

“He seemed to have it under control, for the most part. He’s barely dipped into his trust fund to pay back his losses. We thought maybe he was winning enough that he didn’t get in too deep, or he had it under control enough that he was able to limit the gambling to his monthly allocation from the trust. I’m not entirely certain because it always turned into a huge argument whenever we brought it up with him, and we were worried about pushing too hard. We didn’t want to risk him pulling away from us completely. It would destroy his father and me.”

I didn’t live in a world where things like trust funds and monthly allocations fit into everyday conversation. Or where people cared enough to ask questions, let alone backed off because they were worried about pushing a loved one away. It sounded to me like Elaine’s son had no idea how good he had it. He was probably an entitled jerk, but I’d still help if I could because his mom was anything but that. She was kind, generous, and clearly concerned about her son. “You said he got into trouble? What happened?”

“He showed up to dinner on Sunday night with a black eye and said it was because some hothead got in his face at the casino.” She heaved a deep sigh before continuing. “He tried telling us that it wasn’t a big deal, but it wasn’t just a black eye. His knuckles were red and a little swollen too, which means the gambling has gotten bad enough that now he’s getting into fights. We were willing to give Dillon his space before because we thought he hadn’t let it go too far. But we can’t afford to ignore a warning sign like this and let things get worse. So his father and I have put our proverbial foot down.”

“Is that where I come in?” I still had no idea how I could help with any of what she was describing.

“Yes, we told Dillon that he needs to give back to the community by volunteering, and I was hoping you’d let him work with you.”

Huh. I hadn’t seen that request coming, but maybe I should have. “Like a kind of probation? Where he has to do enough hours to make you worry less about the fight he got into?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “One enforced by us, but it isn’t his freedom that’s at risk—it’s his trust fund.”

I didn’t know how much money was in that account, but I was willing to bet it was more than I’d ever earn in my lifetime. So there was a lot at stake for her son. He would probably be on his best behavior if I came up with a way for him to help out. Which I was going to do since it was Elaine asking. But still, I wanted to cringe at the idea of being responsible in any way for a guy who had so much but seemed to care so little. “How much time did you want him to spend volunteering?”

“As much as you’ll let him,” she sighed. “But I don’t want to be too much of a bother. I know you’re already juggling a challenging course load, everything you do for the students on campus with you, plus high school visits to encourage more foster kids to apply next year.”

“Elaine,” I bit out to get her attention since she was on a roll with all the reasons I should say no to what she was asking me to do. “Just tell me what you need, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Are you sure?”

If I hadn’t already been positive after everything she’d done for me and all the foster kids on campus, seeing how worried she was about being a bother would have been enough to convince me. “I’m one hundred percent certain.”

“Okay. Great. I think this will work.”

It sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that more than me. “I’m sure it will; once we figure out exactly what ‘this’ is.”

“As a parent, you do everything you can to protect your children. To keep them safe.”

If only that were true for all parents. My head dropped low, and I squeezed my eyes shut as though it would block out the reality of how different my mom and Dillon’s were. My mother had never been concerned for my safety. She sure hadn’t done anything to protect me, either. Dillon was damn lucky his mom and dad wanted to keep him safe because so many others certainly didn’t care about their kids. I was surrounded by the proof of that sad fact each and every day.

“You give them every advantage you can, and in our case, we had a lot to give Dillon and...” she trailed off. I got the impression she was holding back tears. I wasn’t great with handling people who were crying since I tended to wall up my own emotions and didn’t share them with others. So I waited, feeling super awkward, until she pulled herself together and continued.

“By spending time with your group, I’m hoping Dillon will get to know some of you. Become familiar with your stories. See that there are people in this world who’ve faced overwhelming obstacles and come out ahead.”

Ouch.

I finally got exactly what she was asking of me. The foster kids were going to be an example to the golden boy. To scare him straight, or something like that. I hated to admit it, but it stung a little knowing why she’d reached out to me for help. I thought she’d come to see me as more than just a foster kid. That we’d gotten to know each other and she saw me as the person I was trying so hard to become.

But I did what I always did and buried the pain, refusing to show her that she had the power to hurt me. Instead, I focused on injecting some positivity into my tone when I answered. “I can see how it’d work that way. We definitely have our fair share of kids with sob stories who’ve accomplished a lot that might be able to inspire him.”

“Oh! I didn’t mean—”

I must not have done as good a job at hiding my hurt as I thought. Either that, or Elaine had gotten to know me better than I expected.

“It’s okay,” I interrupted her. “According to that stupid article the newspaper insisted on running, I’m apparently pretty good at motivating people. So you might have come up with a brilliant plan.”

“Hey, now. The article couldn’t have been that stupid since it’s how I heard about what you’d accomplished,” she reminded me. “And yes, it certainly crossed my mind that I couldn’t do much better than having my son spend time with you.”

That compliment helped ease the sting from earlier.

A lot.

I laughed softly—and awkwardly—before she hurried to explain further. “Don’t get me wrong, Dillon’s a good boy. Or man, really, since he’s twenty-one. But he’s a little lost right now, and I need to do something to try to find a way to stop his downward spiral before he finds himself in real trouble.”

I wasn’t convinced that hanging out with me and the other foster kids was going to make a difference for her son, but I was definitely willing to try. “Let’s see if I can help with that. Maybe he’d like to come with me tomorrow to my old high school? I’m supposed to be there at three, and it’ll probably take less than two hours since some of the kids already applied for early decision and are just waiting to hear back if they got accepted. I’ll mostly be working with a group of seniors who’re prepping to take the SAT early next month since they decided late that they wanted to try for college. It’s the last test they can take that’ll get scores to the schools by the application deadline.”

“That sounds perfect. Maybe he could even help them with some of the math questions since that’s his minor.”

“That’d be great since math definitely isn’t my area of expertise.” I’d had other reasons in mind when I’d decided to study social work, but I sure hadn’t minded that the number of math classes I had to take was limited. “What’s his major?”

“Finance.”

“Finance and math? He must really like numbers.”

“It’s a lucky thing he does since his dad would love to be able to hand The Montgomery Group over to him someday.”

Lucky was an understatement since the company Elaine’s husband owned was an asset management company with something like forty billion dollars that they managed. I’d gotten curious about her after she’d handed over the first batch of envelopes to me, and any resistance I might have felt at accepting one for myself disappeared when I saw that figure. It wasn’t much of a surprise to hear they wanted to keep management of a company that big in the family.

“Will my plans work with his class schedule?”

“Yes, he’s done at two-thirty on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and he can drive the two of you over there so you don’t have to take a rideshare.”

“Are you sure he’ll be okay with that?”

“Oh, yes.” She didn’t hesitate, not even the tiniest bit. “If I tell him to meet you outside your dorm, he’ll be there.”

“Then I guess I’ll finally meet your son tomorrow.”

“If only it was under better circumstances.”

“It’ll be fine,” I reassured her. And if it wasn’t, at least I’d save the cost of the rideshare to the high school and back to campus.