Total pages in book: 206
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 192184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 961(@200wpm)___ 769(@250wpm)___ 641(@300wpm)
They have one son and one daughter. Their autistic son is one of my favorite people in the world. Their daughter, Ruby, is my best friend. She still has a year left of high school, otherwise we’d just get a place together.
I’m starting college next Fall for social work, to make a difference in the lives of other kids who might otherwise fall between the cracks. So many do, and many blame the system. I’ve had a great social worker all along who has always cared about my safety and happiness. I aim to follow in her footsteps.
I wouldn’t say I’ve been the perfect student or foster child. I make mistakes. Boys. Partying. Skipping school. But, for the most part, I try to be responsible. I know what I want from life and I’m grateful for the blessings I have.
Of course I miss my mom. I wouldn’t say she was a happy person and clearly her unhappiness ran deeper than I knew. I also wish Dad could’ve pulled his life together. While he was never all that responsible before she died, he was really, really messed up afterwards.
Although I don’t know how often he checks messages, I’ve sent him a Facebook message to tell him about high school grad and left a ticket at the office with his name on it. I’m not counting on him making it, he’s never made it to any school plays, birthday parties, or anything else I’ve asked him to attend. When Dad shows up it’s generally very random. Some wonder why I bother to go out of my way, but I guess I’ve never given up on him. I’ve always wanted to believe that people are redeemable.
2
Graduation day! It was the day for me and two of my foster sisters, so mayhem at the Crenshaw house, but in the best way. I was ready, my hair in a sleek updo that everyone said makes me look like a pin-up model. Bright red lips, smoky eyes. Rose told me I look twenty-five instead of nineteen. I feel like I’m older, anyway; always have, probably partly due to being almost on my own for the better part of a year at nine years old.
After Mom died, Dad would leave me alone for hours at a time, sometimes overnight, while he nipped out to run his errands. I learned how to make simple meals at that age, to cook and clean up after myself. I even paid the electric bill once after finding a disconnection notice taped to our apartment door. It was a rare occasion that my dad’s wallet had been full of cash, so while he slept off a bender, I walked the three blocks to the bank and paid it.
Social services hadn’t looked too kindly on that explanation, though when I was interviewed and told them I could get myself off to school, make my own breakfast, pack my own lunch, and that I’d even paid bills at the bank with money from Daddy’s card games.
Yeah, that had gone over so well that they hauled me into care. It didn’t help that they found me at home alone with almost no food in the fridge other than some dried out Chinese take-out, but a case of beer in the fridge and nothing but some saltines and beer nuts in the cupboard. The green mat had still been on the dining room table from a poker game Dad had hosted two nights before. It was littered with crushed beer cans and overflowing ashtrays. He’d always told me to stay in my locked room during those games and touch nothing on that table if his poker stuff was left out. The games were often on school nights.
Dad turned up drunk in the middle of the social services meeting and blubbered like a baby. Mom’s death ruined him, and I felt like I had to take care of him for her. Lord knew he couldn’t take care of me. I guessed that was what made me an old soul, the fact that I had to be.
Anyway, here I was, wishing my parents could see me get handed my diploma, graduating on the honor roll. I doubted Dad would make it. Rose, Cal, and Susie (my social worker) would all be there for me and that was enough.
After the ceremony, we’d have a celebratory meal at Rose and Cal’s and there was a school dance planned after that. My ex-boyfriend Nick had been lingering all week and I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him tonight but knew he’d be there.
I’d dumped him a month ago, because I found out he was selling drugs from his gas station job. His customers would buy gas and when they came in to pay, he’d slip them dope. I wanted no part of that. I had no desire to build my future with a guy who would put his future in jeopardy. He was a loser. I didn’t like to think of my dad as a loser but in reality, that’s what he was. I wasn’t about to get tied down with a loser of a boyfriend, too.