Not Worthless, Nor Forgotten

A stern-looking woman came to our house today with some policemen. She is in a pinstriped long skirt, a white top with frills, and black heels. Her silver hoop earrings reflect the sunlight and make my eyes water. Being the eldest of three boys, I am striving to be strong after the policemen took away Mama. Hanson is holding little Charlie on the brown futon across the room and they are both weeping. It is clear Charlie has wet himself.

“It’s Luke, correct?” Pinstripe addressed him while staring down at some paperwork. “Luke Reid, age 12. Those are your brothers, Hanson and Charles, ages 7 and 5?”

“Yes ma’am,” I reply, an octave above a whisper. “Why did they take our Mama?”

“Sweety,” she sighed. “Your mother is not fit to take care of you three anymore. She has gone to join your father in prison.”

“Is it cuz I called 9-1-1 when she weren’t waking up?”

“That is part of it, yes. Listen, we don’t need to go into the details of it all right now. Though, I need to discuss the situation with you and your brothers now that you are wards of the state.”

“What does wards mean?”

“It means the government will take care of you with the help of a nice family, if possible.”

“But what about our family? Papa’s been in jail a long time for a bad thing, but Mama wasn’t bad! She took care of us and you took her away!”

“I know this is hard, Luke, but there is more to this than you can know.” She places her cold, bony fingers on my shoulder. It gives me gooseflesh. “You three will have to trust we are doing what is best for you. It would help your brothers if that trust started with you young man.”

Reality sets in and my little self cannot bear it any longer. I join my brothers in waves of sobs, and Pinstripe tries to comfort me with a hug. It feels like I am enveloped with barkless tree limbs in the middle of winter. I shudder.

\\

It turns out that wards of the state are often called foster kids. I knew that phrase before it defined me and even knew some kids from school who were already foster kids. We should start a club or something.

Though foster care is a warmer-sounding way to put it, it still sucks. They have kept us three together so far, but we have had to bounce around a lot because of it. Taking on three kids at once is a much bigger ask than fostering one or two.

All the families have been a mixed bag so far, either mean and in it for the money, or apathetic and in it for the money. No one has been happy to have us around yet, but the family we are with now isn’t terrible. Even with “birth kids” here, it is still less crowded than the complexes we are often in. Plus, we don’t have to live out of trash bags since we all share a dresser and bunk bed here!

Mrs. Johnson, our foster mom, told us some exciting news at dinner. She said we get to attend this awesome camp for a week in July! That is only a few weeks away! Her kids were not happy about it though since they do not get to go with us. I guess it is made special for foster kids like us—Camp Nobility, or something like that. They call the counselors Pals there, which sounds nice!

Uh oh, I hear Mrs. Johnson calling after me to brush my teeth again. I better put this pencil and journal away now, then head to the bathroom to brush the cheese sauce from my mouth.

\\

We have been on this bus for hours, heading deep into the mountains. The air coming through the cracked windows is fresher and smells of pine trees. The seats are scratchy though, and I have had to pee for a while now.

Though I am excited about arriving, I am also nervous because there are a lot of kids here with us. Other than my brothers next to me, I know no one. It reminds me to be grateful for them though, because at least we have each other. Most of the other kids do not have that luxury, but some of them have at least been to this camp together before. They have said it was the highlight of their year. I hope I do not mess it up somehow.

Simon is my assigned Pal, and I cannot wait to meet him! This camp gives us each our own counselors, so we can get the most quality time possible. I will not be bunking with my brothers for once, but they will be nearby. Plus, I am sure I will see them around camp and some independence from each other would do us all good.

Now, the bus is slowing to a stop, and an adult stands in the front to address us. “We have finally arrived, everyone! Please stay seated until we come to a complete stop and signal you to get up. We will exit in a single file from the front to the back. Please be courteous to your neighbors, so this will be a smooth and quick process.” I hear cheering in the distance, and butterflies fill my gut.

I am sitting a few rows back on the right side, so it is not long before I can unbuckle and stand up. When I do, I notice a lot of excited adults with large signs welcoming us to camp. A man with a beard and black ball cap is holding one with my name on it in big letters.

When we catch eyes, he smiles at me, then waves. My face is now feeling hot, and I begin to believe this was a mistake coming here. No one is supposed to be this excited to see me—at least no one has been since before Papa went away.

\\

We spent the first couple of hours settling into our rooms. Simon let me have the top bunk above him and gave me a cool bracelet matching his. I have hardly said a word to him, but he has been so patient and kind. We are about to go into some free time, and I am having difficulty deciding what to do.

“We could play table tennis in the event room. I’ll teach you how,” Simon said, trying to help. “Or there is a zip line on the big lawn out there if you are looking for something more thrilling. Don’t worry, it isn’t super high or anything, but you will still need to wear a helmet. If you want, I will even go on it first to show you.”

“The zip line sounds fun,” I say. “I know how to play table tennis already, so we can do that later.”

“Okay, cool! It doesn’t look like the line is too long at the zip line yet. Let me put on my tennis shoes real quick and we’ll go. Do you need to use the restroom?”

I shake my head and watch him fiddle with his laces in a hurry. Part of me wants to giggle at his excessive enthusiasm, but I cannot let him win me over yet.

\\

We spent half of our free time at the zip line station. I could not get enough of the joy I felt in those brief, carefree moments suspended in the air. With the remaining time, we tried to shoot some hoops and even learn an instrument. I chose the hand drum because Simon plays one and even brought his own. In basketball, my meager heaves were not enough to make it over the rim, so Simon lifted me until I scored. He also showed me “granny-style” which helped me get more power behind my throws.

Now, we are spending some quiet time in the room before dinner. Simon left to shower and get himself ready for the evening. I am sitting on my bunk and writing about my day. It has been a great first day, and if dinner is anything like lunch was, then we are going to eat like royalty. To be honest, I still feel full from earlier, but as someone often left wanting, I cannot help gorging myself.

The dinner bell chimed, and Simon is back hanging up his towel. Time to go!

\\

I wet the bed last night. God, I am so embarrassed! I prayed this would not happen, but I had a nightmare, and my body could not help itself.

When I awoke, I briefly forgot where I was, which further fueled my fear. Once I remembered, I whispered down to Simon, and he got up to help me. He did not get angry like my foster parents or the social workers do when this happens. Perhaps I can start trusting him and stop giving him the cold shoulder. Besides, he promised me the sleeping bag would be handled while we were out learning to fish today.

It is Pirate Day, and Simon brought a costume. He looks ridiculous, so I allow a chuckle this time, and it brightens him up. I guess I can make people happy too.

“You ready to go, Little Man?” Simon says. “I hear the fish are biting big time this morning!”

“What if I don’t catch one? Then it will feel like a waste of time.” I reply.

“That’s not true! Half the fun of fishin’ is in the trying. Plus, the folks that run the pond out there guaranteed everyone a catch. We will just have to keep at it until we are satisfied.”

“Have you ever fished before? Are you any good at it?”

“I’d say I’m pretty decent and know most of the important stuff. My dad taught us all growing up and we would go all the time. I have not been out in a while though, so you must forgive me if I end up being rusty. Argh!” He made his pointer finger into a hook and rustled my hair with it. This garnered another laugh.

We are now waiting in line for a pole and some bait, but they have plenty for everyone. Simon will take me around to the other side of the lake, where the people are fewer. He said being somewhere with less commotion would help our chances of snagging a big one.

After showing me how to thread the worm on the hook—yuck!—he showed me how to cast the rod, and then use the reel. It was a push-button reel, which is supposed to be easier to learn, but Simon says they often get stuck. I gave it a few earnest tries before I felt like giving up.

“I can’t get the timing right and my casts don’t go very far! This is hopeless!” I want to cry, and holding back is giving me a headache.

“It’s okay bud! How ‘bout I cast out for you, then let you do the reeling? I will even help you set the hook when you feel a nibble.”

How can someone remain so positive all the time? He’s bound to get frustrated with me and give up before the week is over. Everyone does at some point.

“Okay.” I sigh in response, shoulders sagging and my eyes towards the ground.

“Alright, I got it out there in the sweet spot. Now, take this handle here and spin it slowly—too fast and you will scare the fish away.”

“That’s it! You are doing great, Luke!” he encourages me.

There is a bump, then a wiggle in my hands. “Uh, Simon? I think I’m getting a bite!”

“Pull!” he mimics with an invisible rod how to do it. I yank as hard as I can.

“Fish on!” he yells when my pole bends in half.

“Help Simon! It’s heavy and I’m going to drop it!”

“You got it, bud! Just hold on for dear life and keep reeling!”

Why doesn’t he help me? Can’t he see I am struggling here?

“Simon, please! The reeling is getting harder, and the pole is swaying! My hands are hurting!”

Simon stepped in and grabbed the pole with me. I give him the reel, which briefly spins wild during the interchange. We both struggle at first but finally bring a whopper in.

“Oh, my goodness! Look at the size of that thing! You caught that buddy!”

“Technically, you caught it,” I said, downcast.

“We did it together, Little Man. You should be proud of yourself, so why the long face?” Simon was out of breath.

“Why did you not help me when I first asked you? I thought I was going to lose it.”

“I’m sorry, bud. I wanted to give you a chance to do it yourself and experience it on your own for the first time. Is that alright?”

“Ya, I guess so. Thanks for helping me catch my first fish.” I am tempted to hug him, but I also feel oddly angry.

“No problem, buddy. Here, let me show you how to remove the hook and we will throw him back in.”

“Aw man, we don’t get to keep it?”

“No, I’m sorry. When you fish for sport, you are expected to throw it back. It gives the fish a fresh shot at life and the other fisherman a better shot at catching one like you did.” He winked at me, and I smirked back, feeling bigger than I did this morning.

\\

The rest of the week went by way too fast. I tried to take it all in and had a lot of fun, but I guess all good things must end. I am doing my best to be grateful for everything, even though it will soon be over.

Fishing was by far the highlight of my week, but we had plenty of fun otherwise. We played games with water balloons and built castles out of large cardboard boxes, which we then knocked down with giant rubber balls. There was lots of food at every meal, and we even made s’mores by the fire. We sang songs out-of-tune and swam in the lake—that was very scary for me since I did not know how to swim well. Simon stayed by my side the whole time though, and that helped. They even held a birthday party for us since we do not get them celebrated often. That made me feel special, and I could tell it positively affected my brothers too.

There was a talent show tonight as a last hurrah to camp, and with Simon’s encouragement, I chose to sing. I do not know why the song came into my head, but it reminded me of how this week made me feel. The lyrics were about not being worthless, even though we feel like it sometimes, and though we are often lonely; we are not forgotten. Everyone in the room cried, and it was the first time I had seen Simon without a smile. He instead had the cry shivers, so I gave him a hug when I got back to our seat. Making him cry made me feel bad, but he assured me it was the good kind.

Tomorrow we will pack up, eat breakfast, and then return to our old depressing lives. I am trying not to let that get me down though because this week has been very special. It taught me a lot about a love I did not know before. I do not know what to do with the mixed feelings and rampant thoughts in my head right now, but it is time to go to sleep. The lights are turning off and I hear the cabin leaders calling out bedtime.

\\

“Simon, can you come on the bus real quick? Luke is having a breakdown and is asking for you,” I hear the camp leader tell him out the bus door. Simon runs inside and sits next to me.

“I am here now, buddy. What’s going on?”

“I want us to go home with you, not back where we came from!” I wail. “Why can’t you adopt us or something?”

“Luke, I am so sorry buddy. I wish I could go with you guys, but I promise it is going to be okay.”

“How can you know that?”

“Well, I can’t know it for sure, but no matter how tough life gets, there is always hope for a better future. Take what you learned here at camp and let it encourage you to better things. Plus, I left you some gifts to look forward to when you get home.”

“You did?” I sniffled. “What are they?”

“You will have to wait and see, my friend. Hold on to the hope of finding out.” He gave me a side hug then, and I let him go. I was ready now.

When I got home and opened my bag, I found books about a boy who found courage despite several adversities. What I found buried beneath my clothes, though, made me weep all over again. Simon had left me his pirate outfit.