Читать книгу The Heart of Grace - Линда Гуднайт, Линда Гуднайт - Страница 9

Drew Grace jerked away from the office door and whirled, poised to run. A social worker was in there. He knew what that meant. It meant trouble.

Heart pounding, he pushed at the teacher blocking his way. A pair of strong hands, those of the school counselor, Mr. James, caught his shoulders and forced him inside the long narrow office.

Fury ripped through Drew, hot and powerful. He doubled up his fist. He might be only seven but he was tough and he could fight. He wasn’t ever scared to fight no matter how big the other guy. Anybody that didn’t believe that could ask Timothy Wilson. Timothy was in fourth grade but Drew bloodied his nose and made him cry yesterday on the playground. Stupid idiot said Drew stunk. So maybe he did. Big deal. It wasn’t none of Timothy’s business anyway.

“Sit down, Drew,” Mr. James said. “We need to talk to you boys about something.”

Talk. Yeah, sure. Drew knew better. They weren’t going to talk. They were going to drag him and his brothers off to foster care again.

He wasn’t going. Foster parents never liked him. They were mean. They said he was a troublemaker.

Well, he didn’t like them either. If grown-ups would just leave them alone, they’d be okay. Or if Mama would come home. When she was in the chips she brought them presents. That’s what she said, in the chips.

His heart hurt a little to think of Mama. And that just made him madder. He slammed the clenched fist into the social worker’s gut and pushed past her. Mr. James grabbed him around the waist. Kicking, flailing with all his might, Drew growled like a mad dog as the counselor pushed him into a chair.

Drew gazed frantically around the room looking for escape. He had to get out of here.

His big brother Collin stood beside the counselor’s desk, face as cold and hard as ice, arms tight at his sides. Drew knew that look. Collin was mad and probably scared, too, though he always said he wasn’t.

His baby brother Ian sat in a chair at the end of the room. Silent tears made dirty streaks on his face. Poor little kid. He was always nice to everybody. He was still in pre-K so what did he know. Ian didn’t yet understand all the things that Drew and Collin did. Sometimes you couldn’t be nice.

Drew tried to take care of Ian ’cause he was so little. Well, Drew and Collin together. Collin always knew the best places to find food and stuff.

They had a hiding place, a good one. If he could just get out of here, he’d head there. Maybe the teachers would chase him and give Collin and Ian a chance to escape, too. He was fast. He could outrun them. Then he’d be the hero, and his brothers would give him the biggest share of food. They’d make a fire and build a fort. Just him and his brothers against the world. They could do it.

Sometimes Collin got them out of trouble. But not always. Drew knew he couldn’t count on anything when adults were involved. He and Ian and Collin could make it okay by themselves. They always had.

Drew knew how to make a fire. He liked fire. He liked to watch the flames lick up the side of paper and turn it bright orange. He liked the smell of matches.

Just then some nosy teacher walked by and stuck her fat head inside the office. Behind glasses, her eyes bugged out.

“Poor little things,” he heard her whisper right before the social worker shut the door in her face. “Living in that old burned-out trailer, that trashy mother gone half the time. No wonder they’re filthy.”

Drew exploded out of the chair and started toward the door. He’d make her pay for saying that.

But once again, Mr. James caught him. This time he wasn’t too gentle. He pushed Drew down into the plastic chair and held him there. Most times Drew liked Mr. James okay, but not today.

“Collin,” the social worker said to his big brother. She had a hand on her belly where Drew had punched her. He didn’t care. She shouldn’t be sticking her nose into his business. That’s what Mama said. If welfare would just keep their nose out of her business, everything would be fine. “You’ve been through this before. You know it’s for the best. Why don’t you help us get your brothers in the car?”

Collin ignored her. Drew figured his brother was thinking the same thing he was. They had to get out of here.

Ian started sniveling, making hiccuping sounds like he was trying to keep from crying. Drew wanted to go to him and say everything would be okay. But he’d be lying. He didn’t want to lie to his brother. Besides, Mr. James was holding him down like a wrestler and wouldn’t let him up.

Collin must have noticed Ian, too, because he walked right past that social worker like he didn’t even see her and laid a hand on Ian’s head. Ian looked up at Collin with wet blue eyes and stopped crying. He kind of shivered like a cold kitten, and Drew got mad all over again. A little kid like that shouldn’t have to be scared all the time.

The social worker must have noticed Ian crying, too, because she knelt in front of his chair and told some big lie about taking them to a nice house and buying them all new shoes. Poor kid believed every word. Drew wished it was true, but it wasn’t.

Mr. James, who smelled like spearmint gum, loosened his hold the slightest bit and slid to his knees in front of Drew’s chair. Drew hoped this was his chance. Mr. James, who coached baseball and was stronger than some of the high school football players, wasn’t a dummy. He kept one big hand on Drew’s arm and another on his knee.

“Boys,” he said, looking around at all three of them. “Sometimes life throws us a curveball. Things happen that we don’t expect. But I want you to know one thing.” He stared over at the social worker. She was still on her knees in front of Ian. “No matter where you go from here or what happens, you have a friend who will never leave you. His name is Jesus. If you let Him, He’ll take care of you.”

Something inside Drew quieted. He knew who Jesus was though he’d never been to church. He didn’t know how he knew but he did. And even if it was a lie, he liked thinking that there was somebody somewhere that wouldn’t leave him and his brothers alone.

“Collin?” Mr. James said and twisted around, holding his hand out. When Collin ignored him, the counselor laid the hand on Collin’s worn-out shoe and bowed his head. He started whispering something and Drew knew Mr. James was praying. Praying for Collin and Ian and him.

Drew got a funny lump in his chest, like he might cry. He squeezed his eyes shut. Mr. James loosened his hold, but Drew didn’t try to run. He wasn’t mad at Mr. James, not really. He wanted Mr. James to take him home with him and teach him how to play baseball.

When the prayer was over, Drew opened his eyes, curious. The room was real quiet. Even Ian had stopped whimpering.

Mr. James reached into his pocket and pulled out some little key chains and handed them each one. Drew gazed at his, curious about the silver metal fish with words on the back.

He was in second grade. He could read. But not that good.

“I want you to have one of these,” the counselor said. He stared at the social worker again in a way Drew didn’t understand, like he was daring her to say anything. She looked down and fiddled with the floppy sole of Ian’s shoe. “It’s a reminder of what I said, that God will watch over you no matter where you go or what you do.”

“Where we going this time?” Collin asked, voice hard and mad.

“I have placements for Drew and Ian.”

“Together?”

Drew’s head jerked up. They always stayed together. They had to stay together.

“Not this time. All the placements are separate.”

Blood pounded in Drew’s head. He clenched the key chain until the metal bit into his skin.

“Ian gets scared,” Collin said, his voice shaky. “He stays with me.”

Collin was right. Ian needed his big brothers. They needed each other. All for one, one for all. Like the Three Musketeers movie they saw at a friend’s house.

Drew’s blood started to heat up again. Separate placements. Places for bad boys. For troublemakers.

He looked frantically at Collin. Why didn’t Collin say something? Why didn’t he tell her that they couldn’t be separated? They’d die if they weren’t together.

He opened his mouth to say so, but only a growl came out.

“I’m sorry, boys. This will work out for the best. You’ll see.” The social worker tried to sound jolly, but Drew was no fool.

They would be separated. Him and Collin and Ian. He would never see his brothers again.

He said a cussword and bolted toward the door. Too late, too late. Mr. James picked him up and carried him out the door, kicking and screaming.