So my dad cheated on my mom when I was eight. She found out. He left. And something in her just broke after that. Not all at once. Slow. Like a crack that keeps spreading and you keep telling yourself it's fine until one day the whole thing gives.
She never hit me too bad or anything like that. She just stopped. Stopped being there. Stopped caring, stopped being a mother. And I was the closest thing around so I got the leftover version of her. Whatever that was.
Five months after he left my sister Cierra was born. She's eight now. She is genuinely the smartest person I know and she is in third grade. Teachers look at her different. Like they can already see where she is supposed to go.
I draw. That is my thing. Anime posters, paintings, commissions, whatever. I was selling them at school because we were broke and my mom was not handling the basics. I needed underwear. Actual shoes. Normal stuff. So I handled it.
Two months ago Cierra's teacher Miss Greenfield called my mom in. Had this whole presentation. Programs, STEM grants, real opportunities for Cierra. She was excited about it. She believed in it.
My mom looked at everything and said "I don't have time for that."
Miss Greenfield pushed a little. Said she understood but really thought it was worth it.
My mom said "If you care so much just take her. I'll sign whatever you need."
And she meant it.
And Miss Greenfield said okay.
I still don't really know what to do with that. Like maybe in her messed up way my mom thought she was helping. Getting Cierra somewhere better. Or maybe she just didn't want to deal with it anymore. I genuinely cannot tell you.
After that I saw Cierra on weekends when I could afford the bus. Started selling more to make that happen. My mom eventually found out I had money. Sent her boyfriend to get it from me.
Her boyfriend was like five-seven and strung out. That did not go the way she planned.
Neighbor called CPS.
And now I'm here. Sitting in this hallway. In these chairs that hurt your back after ten minutes. Waiting to find out where I'm going next.
So. Yeah.
* * *
"Damn," Clarissa said.
She was Amanda's daughter. Thirteen maybe. Had been sitting around the corner listening to my story.
"Sad story I know," I said.
"Are you okay?"
"It's four in the afternoon on a Tuesday and I'm sitting in a CPS office."
"So no."
"So no."
She kind of laughed. I almost did.
"It's good material though," I said. "When I blow up for my art this is gonna be the origin story."
That got a real laugh out of her. Like an actual one.
I don't know why that helped but it did.
* * *
Amanda came out a little while later. She had that face. The one aduls wore when they wanted you to still have hope..
"I have good news and bad news," she said.
"Bad first," I said.
"We couldn't find any family."
Already knew. Heard every call through the door.
"Good news is there's a family in Anchor Beach willing to take you in. The Fosters. They've done this before and they're good people." She paused like she was waiting for something. "Their last name is actually Foster."
I just looked at her.
"Foster family. Last name Foster," she said again.
Clarissa lost it around the corner. Full laugh. Did not even try to hide it.
Something shifted a little. Not a lot. Just enough.
"Okay," I said. "When do I go?"
"Tomorrow morning."
I nodded. Amanda went back inside.
I pulled my sketchbook out of my bag. Only thing I grabbed when they came to the house. Turned to a blank page and just held it. Did not draw anything. Just needed something familiar.
Outside the window the sky went orange then pink then dark. I watched the whole thing.
Foster family. Whatever.