Lesley was sitting on his bed, his legs criss crossed with a faded blue and grey backpack beside him. He was examining the shot glass in his hand. Las Vegas was written in gold and white cursive with what he assumed to be casinos behind the lettering. His new foster mother, Mrs. Thomas, peeked her head in the door while she knocked. “Hi, Lesley. I didn’t see Charlotte. Didn’t she come home with you?” Lesley looked at her then back to the shot glass in his hand.
“She likes to be called, Charlie.” She nodded.
“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. Did Charlie come home with you?” The bed was a standard twin but with a handmade headboard outlined to resemble a cloud. Wider than a foot on either side, a bare shelf reached out far enough to hold anything smaller than a book. Lesley sat the shot glass on the shelf and looked at Mrs. Thomas. His sister and he had been transferred to her care nearly two weeks earlier following abuse suffered from their previous foster mother, Mrs. Samuels. Charlie told anyone with ears, but everyone seemed to be deaf. Knowing the capacity to become unhinged at the slightest shade of disobedience, Charlie profusely called her the one word you never call anyone until Mrs. Samuels lost control and beat her in places that couldn’t be concealed. The swelling of Charlie’s right eye had finally gone down, and the blackish purple had lightened to a dotted crimson but remained bloodshot. The doctor said it could be that way for a month. Charlie was only a year older than him, but she thought like a grownup. He regretted he had sounded curt to Mrs. Thomas. She had been quite nice since they arrived.
“She told me to go on and she’d be right behind me. She had something to do.”
“Oh, okay.” She opened the door wide enough to enter, which she did gingerly. She nodded towards the shot glass. “Twelve years old is a little young to be drinkin’, don’t you think?” She bent over slightly and squinted at the tiny glass; her hands clasped behind her back. Lesley forced a smile.
“It’s my mom’s.” He had grabbed it on the way out the door with Child Services, knowing Mom was going to be longer than a week or two. This time it wasn’t shoplifting or drugs, it was fraud. He looked down and scowled at the carpet like it was in a staring contest with him. Mrs. Thomas straightened up and looked around the room that had been her son’s until he grew up. Now he lived upstate with his wife and two daughters and never failed to call his mother every Sunday. It was nice to have a boy in this room again.
“You know, Lesley, this room is aching for some color. I know you didn’t come with much, but wouldn’t you like some posters on your walls? Or some toys? My son used to keep his books on that shelf. Your mother’s glass could be the bookend.”
“What’s a bookend?” She beamed at him, pleased he was talking with her. Her previous attempts to strike up conversations had resulted in one- or two-word responses and fizzled out from there.
“They keep your books from falling over when you stack them side by side.”
“Can’t you just put them on top of each other?”
“Sure”, she nodded. “You can do that, too.” They shared a silence for a moment. Neither was sure if it had been an icebreaker or just awkward. Lesley thought she looked like a normal grandma, although he didn’t have much for reference. A little short, kind of fat, and salt and peppered hair tied up into a bun. But Mrs. Samuels had looked like that, too. He never met his own grandparents. His mom said they never understood her. All he knew was he was named after his grandfather. He often wondered if they were still alive. Mrs. Thomas turned to leave but then said over her shoulder, “Charlie’s okay, right?” Before Lesley could answer, the front door swung open and slammed shut, followed by feet stomping down the hallway. He watched Mrs. Thomas offer a timid smile and start to say something when he heard Charlie’s bedroom door bang closed. She looked back at Lesley, composed. “If you need anything at all, honey. All you have to do is ask, okay? Either of you.” Lesley nodded. A sliver of hope was born in his belly, and he liked how it felt.
“Thank you,” Lesley said as she turned to leave. “Mrs. Thomas.” She stopped and looked back at him and winked.
“You can call me, Anne, if you like.” Lesley did like that. He liked that very much.
***
“I hate her.” said Charlie, as she slammed the front door behind them. Lesley had been in front of her on the porch and whipped around, startled. “Did you like what I said, though?” While they were getting their jackets on, Charlie loudly explained to Mrs. Thomas, who was busy in the kitchen, that they were leaving and would be back when they felt like it. Mrs. Thomas had said okay and said she’d be making dinner and asked what they would like to eat. Charlie had responded dryly, “Shitballs with staples.” Whatever that was.
“I think she’s nice.”, Lesley said softly to the sidewalk as they walked. Charlie grabbed his hand and forced him to pick up his pace.
“C’mon!”, she barked. Lesley ran dutifully behind his big sister. In ten minutes, they were at the bus depot downtown. Lesley watched as his sister surveyed all the people. It was a busy day. She looked at her brother. “Hey, don’t ask anyone how to get to a hospital this time, okay? Guys will think you’re hurt or something.” She shook her head and chuckled. Lesley’s job was simple: approach the sucker and keep them talking while Charlie snuck up from behind them and lifted their wallets. Construction guys were the best. They were usually huge, so they didn’t feel their wallets leaving their pockets and they always had plenty of cash. But they were also huge. Lesley looked down at his feet.
“I don’t think— “. Charlie glared at Lesley.
“Listen, nobody is gonna look out for us. Not Mom, not Child Services, and especially not that heifer you seem to like all of a sudden. I’m gonna look out for us. Me!” Lesley wondered what Mrs. Thomas might really be making for dinner. “And once we’ve got enough, I’m getting us our own place. Our own.”
“Who’s gonna rent to a couple of kids?” Lesley looked at his sister, but she was looking elsewhere.
“Look at him! Wow. He’s definitely got a hundred bucks on him.” It wasn’t a tough guess who Charlie was referring to. He was about the biggest man Lesley had ever laid eyes on. He looked as if he could get a frisbee off a house without a ladder. Lesley wondered if he turned sideways to walk through doors. Charlie nudged him forward from behind. Lesley caught himself and took a deep breath before he approached the woolly mammoth in orange reflectors and a hard hat.
“Excuse me, sir?”
***
Lesley opened the front door slowly, trying to minimize the noise. When he didn’t see Mrs. Thomas, he opened the door further and gently guided Charlie inside, and then softly shut it behind them. She hid her right hand in her left armpit. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were red and glazed from pain. She was sobbing but trying her best to do it quietly. He led her down the hall into his room. As he closed the door, he heard Mrs. Thomas say she made some fresh shitballs if anyone was hungry. Charlie sat on the bed with her face towards her lap. Her long blonde hair was clumped from sweat and fell over her shoulders, which were bouncing slightly while she whimpered. “Lemme see.”, Lesley whispered. He grazed her arm with his fingers, causing her to flinch. But then she took her right hand out, revealing the damage to Lesley. Her pinkie finger was the darkest purple he’d ever seen. It was also three times bigger than it should be and clearly broken.
The construction worker had been very accommodating, at first. But just as Charlie was lifting his wallet, an onlooker noticed and ratted her out. The giant whipped around and violently snatched her hand with a brute force to be expected of a man of his size. It wasn’t his fault. The big oaf didn’t know his own strength when someone was robbing him. Charlie had screamed bloody murder. Even the big guy was taken aback and released her. Nobody gave chase when they made a run for it. “I’m gonna go get Anne.”, said Lesley. Charlie grabbed him by the arm.
“No! I told you already. No one is gonna look out for us! Not mom, not— “. Charlie stopped short. She was shocked at her brother. He had grabbed the shot glass off the shelf from his headboard and threw it against the wall, smashing it into a million diamond shards that spread across the floor. The wail that followed it unearthed something inside Charlie. It had come from a place so filled with fear and anger and desperation that no twelve-year-old should have knowledge of. No longer able to hold back either, Charlie began to sob uncontrollably. Mrs. Thomas threw open his door and Lesley spun around to meet her concern. His own eyes began to swell with tears and his slight frame started to tremble.
“She needs your help, Anne.” Lesley stepped out of the way so Mrs. Thomas could see. Horrified, she covered her mouth with her hand and then gently grabbed Charlie by the elbow, guiding her to stand up.
“Oh, sweetheart! Come with me! Come with me! How did this happen? Oh, my goodness. Lesley! Honey, get your coats, honey!” Mrs. Thomas walked alongside Charlie down the hall towards the front door, cradling her in her arm and soothing her with her hand. She whispered something to Charlie to which she nodded. She looked at her brother and began crying again. But it was different this time. It wasn’t from a broken home, a broken promise, or a broken hand. It was hope. The tiniest sliver had been born in her belly. It was small, and it was a stranger, but it was there, and Charlie had felt it.
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