Fail a bet, adopt a baby

Monday

"Tell me that's not your fucking kid dude."

Cameron clicked his tongue between his teeth, chastising the way only an older brother could.

Matthew, Cameron's 15 year old younger brother, let out a wild, ferocious bark of laughter. Words stumbling out between gasps of disbelief, he shook his head. "You actually did it? You actually adopted a fucking kid?"

Cameron tightened his grip on the little hand holding his, her dark curls tickling his fingers as she leaned into his side. "This is Maya." The warning in his voice was clear enough: make one stupid joke and you're dead.

To his surprise, Matthew squatted to stare into Maya's wide brown eyes. "Hi Maya, I'm Matthew..." he glanced up at his older brother for half a second and smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you."

Meeting Cameron's gaze again, Matthew braced himself, half expecting someone to pop out from behind the kitchen counter and scream gotcha! Instead, Maya smiled back at him. There were no words exchanged, just a wide grin and a looser grip on Cameron's hand.

As Matthew righted himself, still looking half dazed, Cameron spoke up again, his voice lower. "She's seven."

"Seven? You're actually serious? You lost a bet and picked up a kid? Christ."

“If I had won,” Cameron muttered, “you would've had to get a snake.”

“Okay, and I told you I have a phobia—”

“You don’t. You’re dramatic.”

“You adopted a child.”

Cameron chose not to answer that.

His younger brother glanced down. Maya was bouncing on her toes, gripping Cameron's fingers, and tilting her head. “Not a talker, huh?” Matthew commented.

“She prefers whiteboards,” Cameron said, sitting her gently down on their dad’s couch. Their dad wasn't home. Off backpacking through Mongolia or skydiving in Peru. Just another regular Thursday.

“She can’t speak?” Matthew asked, a crease forming between his brows.

“She can,” Cameron replied. “Just not often. Not… when there are people. She’ll talk to me, sometimes.”

There were rare moments where they would converse, asking each other questions, watching films, listening to music. But outside the safety of her makeshift bedroom/office she communicated through writing, taps, nods, and gestures.

Now, Maya tapped him lightly. Tap. Tap-tap. He handed her the whiteboard she always carried.

She scribbled. Matthew leaned in to read it.

“Are you Uncle Theo?”

Matthew blinked. “Well, I guess so. Assuming ‘Tío’ means uncle, and my Duolingo didn’t betray me.”

Cameron grinned, but said nothing.

“You have one more to meet,” he added. “His name’s Luke.”

Last month

Cameron had lost the bet. It was a dumb dare—eat a spoonful of wasabi, no water for five minutes. He lasted four.

Matthew's smug grin had haunted him ever since.

“Tomorrow morning,” Matthew had said, clapping him on the back, “you walk into that adoption center and come back with a kid. No snake, no take-backs.”

It should have been a joke.

But the next morning, Cameron stood outside the Sunrise Adoption Center, blinking into the gray light, wondering if he’d finally gone fully off the rails.

He walked in.

A receptionist smiled at him. “Looking to meet some of the kids?”

He nodded. His voice sounded wrong in his throat. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

She handed him a mountain of forms.

As he signed, his brain raced: This is not what I signed up for. What the hell am I doing? I can hardly even babysit.

But hours later, he was in the back playroom, heart racing like he was about to step on stage.

There were boys first. Loud ones, quiet ones, bruised ones. They tugged at him, offered him toys. One had a cast. Another sat in the corner, staring at the wall.

Then came the girls. August tried not to feel overwhelmed as he sat in a room full of giggles and curious stares. And then, he saw her.

Second youngest. Seven. Dark curls. Warm skin. Freckles. She was sitting by herself, scribbling something onto a whiteboard.

The receptionist beside him gasped. “She looks just like you.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was uncanny. Same hazel eyes, same stubborn jaw. It was like he was staring into a female version of him as a kid.

He sat back, stunned, watching as the little girl waved shyly, reminding him so much of himself that he felt uncomfortable. Who the hell was this kid?

“Her name’s still undecided,” the woman told him. “No guardians on record. She’s been here since she was three.”

When he approached, she continued to stare at him. He crouched, heart clattering.

“Hi,” he said softly. “I’m Cameron.”

She stared, then pointed to her whiteboard.

No name.

His chest ached.

“Well,” he smiled, “then I guess we’ll have to pick a beautiful name for a beautiful girl, won’t we?”

She blinked, then—tears welled in her eyes.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Cameron said quickly, reaching instinctively for her hand. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

Thursday

Now, in the parking lot of that same orphanage, Cameron waited with his heart pounding. Luke—his older brother by two years—was meeting them in ten minutes.

"Cam!" a voice shouted.

Cameron spun, nervous and frantic with energy.

As Luke approached with a frown on his face, he took in the sign and his frown deepened. “Why’d you ask me to meet here? Are we… donating?”

“Not exactly.” Cameron hesitated. “Okay, uh. Long story short. I lost a bet.”

Luke snorted. “Classic.”

“And now I… I sort of adopted someone.”

There was a long pause.

“You what?”

“She’s incredible,” Cameron said quickly. “I mean, I didn’t plan it. I really didn’t. But once I met her—”

“Hold on,” Luke interrupted, holding a hand up. “You adopted a child over a bet?”

“I know it sounds bad.”

Snorting, Lule gave him a flat look.

Before either of them could say anything more, Maya stepped out of the building, her whiteboard firmly clasped between her small fingers, eyes searching the parking lot until they found Cameron. She walked straight up, curled her fingers in his sleeve, and stood there.

Luke looked down. “This her?”

Cameron nodded.

Maya lifted the whiteboard.

Are you Uncle Kai?

Luke didn’t answer right away. He just looked at her, then at August. Then he crouched slowly, like the floor might crack beneath him.

“Yeah, kid,” he said at last. “Yeah, I think I am.”