In Keeping, Gitana Caballero [fiction book recommendations TXT] 📗

Watching the gloom of the approaching storm through the window, I listen, uninterested, to the too-familiar discussion progressing behind me. Too many times I’ve heard this exact conversation, with very slight variations, and after a while, it gets old. Really old.
“So, Albatross, ready to go?” Mrs. Yepps asks, her voice sickly-sweet. I say nothing, grabbing my deflated duffel and hoisting it over my shoulder. She glares at me for a moment, and I can almost hear her saying, “Remember your manners young man,”

in the stern, reprimanding tone she always uses when talking to us boys.
“We’re just going to work out some last minute things, so you can go relax in the sitting room. Say goodbye to the place.” She says with a tight-lipped smile, her silent way of telling me to clear out. I just roll my eyes once her back is turned, and make my way out into the hallway. I walk the familiar path to the sitting room, not reminiscing in the least. These memories are not particularly happy, and definitely not ones that I care to relive.
Stepping over the threshold into the “Passage to Hell”, as we fondly call it in the dorms, I am not-so-pleasantly surprised to find a child already sitting in the over-cushioned red chairs. This must be the Williams’ kid, my newest foster brother, and most likely, a very large annoyance in my near-future.
In my experience, and I have quite a bit, situations like this are never good. Most couples looking to foster and/or adopt can’t have children of their own, so when they adopt after already having a child, they are usually looking for the perfect sibling. Someone to do their child’s laundry, and make them dinner, and help them with homework, and I really don’t have any interest in doing any of those things. Sadly, this kid looks pretty small, so, with my luck, I’ll end up pulling him out of all sorts of trouble.
“Hey,” He says as I take the seat across from him. I nod in response, and settle myself down, bag in lap, before examining him closely.
He has chin-length blonde hair and dark green eyes. Looking to be about 4’11”, and skinny as all hell, I’d place his age between... Hmm, nine and eleven.
“So,” I say warily, “What’s your name?”
“Nikko,” He answers with a cheerful smile. “What’s yours?”
“Haven’t your parents told you already?” I reply, sounding slightly harsh. I expect him to be shocked, or even hurt, and I feel a little bad, but he just shrugs and looks at me expectantly, so I roll my eyes and say, “Albatross.”
“Well that’s... Unique.” He looks intrigued, and I’m wondering how old he really is, because he doesn’t talk like an eleven year old, and I know that if I don’t find out soon, it’ll just bother me until I scream.
“Yep. So, how old are you?” He tenses at this, and for a moment I’m worried he’s going to be mad, but then he relaxes and lets out a sigh.
“I may not look it, but I’m 16, and in my Junior year of High School. I know I’m small, but that doesn’t make me dumb, childish, or less capable.” He huffs, and I take it from his attitude that this is a question he gets a lot.
“Sure,” I say, attempting to hide my smile.
He glares at me half-heartedly. “Well, how old are you?”
“Seventeen, Junior.”
“Cool...”
“Yep...”
Awkward silences. The bane of my existence. You can almost always count on an awkward silence in an awkward situation, and I seem to find myself in those quite often. I shift in my seat, hugging my bag closer to my stomach like I always do. It makes me feel more secure to know there’s something large and dense between me and the rest of the world.
Nikko and I remain silent, and I opt to look at the floor rather than into his intense, and searching, gaze. I don’t like to look into people’s eyes, and would much rather just examine the scratched floor tiles while we wait for his - ‘our’ - parents to finish up.
“Why are you here?” He asks quietly, after we’ve been sitting here for about five minutes.
“What do you mean?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I already know.
“I mean, why are you here. Where are your parents?” He looks very interested, though I can’t image why, but also a bit nervous, like he’s going to get in trouble for asking.
“Well... The usual I guess. My parents were too young to take care of me, not to mention how drugged up they were. As you can probably tell from my name, they were a bit below the influence.” I smile grimly, thinking, not for the first time, that I’m lucky they knew enough to give me up.
“Oh. Well... That’s too bad.” He says hesitantly, looking down at his hands which are resting limply in his lap.
“Ehh, I’m used to it.” I shrug, not really minding. I consider myself among the luckier ones. Better to be bouncing from unloving household to unloving household than to be starving on a street corner with a mother who can’t even remember her name.
“Um... I just wanted to say, if you’ve ever had bad experiences with foster families before... That is, I mean to say, like... If you’ve ever felt like you- ” He cuts off abruptly, looking frustrated, “This one’s going to be different, y’know?”
I’m about to ask him what exactly he means by that when the Williams walk through the door, looking much too cheerful. I fall silent as Mrs. Williams comes over, a hundred-watt smile splitting her face.
“Oh good, you boys have been getting to know each other! I was worried you two wouldn’t get along, which would have been bad, seeing as you’ll be sharing a room...”
“Just until the renovations are done,” Mr. Williams intercedes with a pointed look.
“Yes, yes of course, just until the renovations are over! Come on, come on, we’ll get all loaded up now, ohhh, I sure hope you like the house Albatross!” She looks anxious and I attempt a smile, though I have a nagging suspicion it ended up looking like a frown.
I stand up, grabbing my bag out of my lap, politely refusing Mr. Williams offer to carry it for me. As we’re walking out of the waiting room I hear frantic footsteps pounding down the hall and spin around when I hear my name called.
As soon as I turn I am enveloped in a warm vanilla scented embrace. I pull back and look up into the face of my ridiculously tall best friend Amanda.
“Oh Albatross, you didn’t think you could leave without saying goodbye did you?” She demands, giving me a stern look.
“Of course not, I just didn’t know where you were... And I doubt I’ll be gone for long anyways.” I mutter the last part under my breath, hoping the family won’t overhear. Even though I’m sure it’s true, there’s really no point in hurting their feelings.
“Oh, don’t be so jaded! You never know, this could be the lucky one!” She smiles at me and pats me on the back, “Just make sure you come back and visit me sometimes, alright?”
I roll my eyes at her optimistic attitude, but reluctantly agree. It’s better not to get your hopes up anyways, nothing good ever comes of it, and you always end up worse off than you were before. I give her another hug and turn to find the Williams family all watching us with expressions that range from sympathetic, to giddy, to understanding, and it almost makes me sick. I can’t stand the thought of someone pitying me, they have no idea what it’s like, and it’s better if they don’t pretend. I quickly look at the floor and Mrs. Williams leads us out to the car in silence.

***

The rain pounds down heavily on the thin roof, creating a steady rhythm, the wind-thrashed trees casting dark swaying shadows through the window. The room is cast in semi-darkness, lit only by the light of the full moon outside, and bland in decoration. The white walls hold no emotion, no life, and the cold wooden floors attempt to suck the warmth from it’s young inhabitants.
The ground is littered in small bodies, each spread haphazardly across a brightly colored sleeping mat, some with toys in hand, open-mouthed and drooling on their scratchy white pillow cases. One boy huddles in the corner, a blanket draped across his tiny shoulders, tight-lipped and anxious, eyeing the others with a somewhat pitying expression.
“Tross?” A girl sits up, gazing at him warily, sleep still evident in her voice. “What are you doing up?”
“Thinking,” He whispers back, not looking up at her, “Just go back to sleep Amanda.”
Amanda shakes her head irritably, standing up and picking her way carefully through the other children, her sock clad feet barely making a noise as she goes. She bends down next to him, her hand gently resting on his back, rubbing in slow, methodic, circles.
“The first night is always the hardest... Do you want to talk about it?” She questions quietly.
“No. It’s just... I just hate the hope. I hate thinking that maybe this time is the one, the one that’s gonna work.” He sounds frustrated, his hands balled into fists, clenched tightly in his lap.
“Albatross... You can’t let yourself get so pessimistic, you’re only eleven years old, you have so much you can still do with your life!” She exclaims, sounding exasperated.
Albatross just rolls his eyes, looking away. “Yeah, sure, but when I find the family I want to stay with, and I allow myself to hope, you’d better be there to pick up the pieces.”

Publication Date: 01-27-2011

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
To all my friends and family who helped me along the way.