I walked through the sliding doors of South Side Hospital to the emergency wing and scanned the seats of the packed waiting room, looking for Tate. The little guy was curled up in a chair, all by himself. I took in his exhausted face, bleary eyes, and hair in disarray. He’d probably been here all night. He was in a worn, ill-fitting pair of jeans and a plain T-shirt, and he looked completely hopeless.

“Tate.” I smiled slightly, more due to the fact that nothing else had happened to him other than the situation he was having to endure. When his eyes tagged me, his face lit up.

“Coach!” He rose up from his chair and ran toward me. I lowered to my knees, and he all but bulldozed into me and gave me a hard hug.

A wave of emotion went through me, half anger, half relief. Tate didn’t let go for several long minutes, and I felt his little body shaking. I’m not a touchy-feely guy, but I only let go when he was ready. Sometimes a hug did wonders. Tate wiped at his eyes, which leveled me, and once again, I hated this whole situation he was in.

After I was sure that Tate was okay, I stopped by the front desk to check on the status of his aunt. The guy, Simon, was a lanky black guy in scrubs and constantly busy, either on the phone or his computer. It took about five full minutes to get his attention, and then another few minutes to get an answer to my question.

“Well, she’s in a coma right now,” Simon said. “The bullet did a number on her. We really can’t say when she’ll be conscious. Could be hours. Could be days. Could be months. Could be…”

“Months? She’s this boy’s guardian. What the hell is he supposed to do until then?”

Simon shrugged, and I realized I’d yelled at him. I calmed down, and to my relief, he didn’t take it personally. “Look, Sir, around here, we see a lot of these cases. But he can’t stay here. Not your kid, obviously?”

I shook my head. “I’m his coach.”

“No other contacts are listed…the woman who came with Ms. Straub’s nephew didn’t know much. Maybe you can ask the boy to tell you if he has other relatives somewhere, anywhere. If not, well…” And I knew what he was going to say. Those words I hated. “You could try DCFS. I don’t know, man. You know how it is on the South Side.”

I nodded, numbly. I did know how it was here. “He’ll be put in the system…” I said, swallowing hard and trying to be strong, for Tate, but for myself too. All of this was bringing back horrible memories of my own experiences with DCFS, of how Eva and I had to deal with the choices made by complete strangers who cared, but who were also so overwhelmed and tired they couldn’t care about every case, every lost child.

“If he’s got family, hopefully they’ll take him in,” Simon offered. “I’m sorry. Wish I had a better answer.”

I ran a hand through my hair but nodded in resignation. This wasn’t Simon’s fault, and he was doing what he could. I had to remember that too. “Thanks…”

“It’ll work out, man,” Simon said, giving me a brief smile. “You’re looking out for him, so I hope you figure out something…”

“Thank God you’re here,” a woman interrupted, speaking from behind me. I recognized her voice as the woman I’d spoken to on the phone. I turned to greet her.

“Janice, I presume?” I stuck out a hand for a shake. She was a middle-aged woman with glasses. “My name is Jake. I’m so sorry to hear what happened to Keri.”

“I know who you are,” she said, almost dismissively. “You’re the boy’s coach. He wouldn’t stop talking about you. Listen, Tate needs someone to take care of him. I would love to bring him to my place, but frankly, I have enough mouths to feed as it is. Now, do you know any place he could stay while his aunt gets better? I just…I can’t.”

“Well, you’re in a pickle, aren’t you,” I said, mostly to myself, but Simon gave me a sad look. I looked back at Tate, who was now standing next to me. I couldn’t tell if he was tuned in to our conversation or not, but kids always picked up more of the conversation than you thought they did, absorbing it like little sponges.

“I wish I could take him in, but I can’t. I’m asking you. Begging you. I’m going to get fired if I miss another shift as it is, so I have to go soon.”

I considered my options. Tate’s options, really. No way in fucking hell was I going to let him be taken by DCFS. Going through that was a nightmare. Having my sister with me had made it a little easier, but Tate was small for his age, and he was also sensitive. He wouldn’t make it in there. He’d slowly die, like so many kids who didn’t get mean right away or didn’t enter it already tough.

Fuck it, I decided.

“Tate can stay with me,” I said.

“Thank you, thank you!” she said, already hustling toward the front doors without a backward glance.

I was the only person in this whole city who gave a damn about him, and at this time, he needed to be around someone he knew, not around a bunch of adults who were as beat down and hopeless as the kids going into that machine.

Yeah. There was no other choice. I wasn’t going to let Tate go through what I had.

Simon arched an eyebrow, but clearly this wasn’t truly going to be an issue for him. Sometimes, in the ghetto, you just had to live and make due.

“Tate,” I said, ruffling the kid’s hair. “You ready for a little sleepover?”

“Yeah,” he said. Tate was never one to use a ton of words. But he smiled from ear to ear, and fuck if the kid didn’t have a bull’s-eye for my soft spot.