I didn’t even try to protest the next day. For once, Boyan and Lou had energy. They weren’t lethargic with hunger or worry. They ran. They played. They laughed. It was a beautiful thing to see.
Then came the clothing—shirts, pants, jackets—and the shoes. None of it was old and threadbare or a couple of sizes toobig or too small. No more holes or cramped toes. No more chilly walks to school. All of it was warm and comforting, expensive and designer brands.
When I rejected them, Ricco’s eyebrows shot up, and his face paled. His mouth slacked in what I could only assume was horror. Before I knew it, he was shoving his phone against my ear.
“Ms. Burch.” At the gruff sound of Renzo’s voice, I death-stared Ricco. The guy simply shrugged.
“Mr. Iannelli.”
“Don’t give me that tone. Accept the clothing, Ms. Burch. I’ve seen what you and those kids wear. You look homeless.”
“What do you get out of all this? This some kind of act of charity? Look at all my generosity as I donate all this overpriced clothing to underprivileged children. We won’t be tools to make you look good.” Because there had to be a reason for his giving mood other than kindness. The man didn’t have a kind bone in his body. “You should be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of kids in the foster system for your personal gain. We’ve been through enough without you adding on top of it.”
“I don’t make it a habit to get to know children in the foster system. You and your foster siblings are the only ones, and I certainly have never personally gifted any others clothes or food. Charity fundraisers handle that for me.”
“But…w-why?” I sputtered. “Is it regret?”
“No.” How could he be so cold about something that meant so much to me? My brother wasn’t just any other person. “The clothing. You’ll accept and wear them. All three of you.”
“We can’t.”
“You can, and you will. Don’t fight me on this. You’ll lose. Learn to pick your battles, Ms. Burch. It’ll serve you well when you’re older.”
“No, I mean, we really can’t. You only sent us designer clothing. Who in their right mind is ever going to believe three foster kids admitted to summer camps on financial assistance could ever have those? They’ll think we stole them. Our foster parents will too.”
Marlene would either beat us half to death and then call the cops on us or sell them off for her own profit.
“Not my problem. Figure it out.” He hung up.
I stared at the phone, flabbergasted. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Figure it out.” What kind of stupid fudging response was that? What was I supposed to do? Make a post and try to sell them on a classified ads website? I considered doing that for all of two seconds. It wasn’t worth the hassle and risk. He told me to choose my battles. I did just that and refused every item, only for Ricco to drop it all off on the Hayeses’ driveway on his boss’ orders.
Seriously, fuck that guy. His so-called generosity made me haul ass across town on public transit with two young kids to drop it all off at thrift stores before anyone in the neighborhood noticed and complained to Marlene. All the while, Ricco followed us by car. He wasn’t allowed to drive us there because that would be defying the boss, but since he was supposed to be watching us, he had no choice but to tag along. Ridiculous.
God, it hurt to leave all that beautiful clothing in the donation bins for others to find and wear, brand-new and with tags still on, all in style, all the right sizes for the three of us. There was no choice. We didn’t need more notice from the Hayes couple.
I went through all that trouble, only for Ricco to deliver a whole new set of clothing and shoes the next day. This time, all brands from common department stores.
“Seriously?”
“Don’t make me tell him you gave these away too,” Ricco pleaded.
I shook my head. As if I would. They needed a little roughing up so that neither Marlene nor Micah looked too closely—Charlie wouldn’t care—but they were more than I could’ve hoped for just a few days ago. The kids finally had pants that didn’t show their ankles and shirts that didn’t show their bellies when they raised their arms. If careful, I could even pass these off as donations received at summer camp. No one would ever look twice. Hopefully.
Boyan tied his new shoes. He jumped in place, his smile so wide, his scars creased. He showed off his new jacket, repeatedly telling me how warm and soft it was inside. Despite Lou being shyer, she showed off her newly missing front teeth with a large grin, admiring her new kicks and twirling in a knee-length dress over tights. For me, it was nice to finally have a new pair of tennis shoes.
Still, I didn’t thank Renzo Iannelli. He was the devil of my nightmares. The man who now haunted my every waking moment with constant reminders. First a phone, then food, and next clothes. He was toying with me, mocking me, really. I expected blackmail, maybe death threats, or even trouble with the cops or my foster parents. Instead, his manipulative bribes, or whatever these were, were driving me crazy.
If that wasn’t bad enough, a week later, when Lou and I missed out on a field trip because the Hayeses refused to sign the permission slip and fork over twenty dollars for each of us, Ricco took us to the movies instead of the youth center, on Renzo Iannelli’s orders. It was complete with popcorn, soda, and candy, things I once took for granted. Twenty minutes into the only under-ten-year-old-appropriate animated feature, I bawled my eyes out.
I didn’t get why he was doing this or why any of it mattered to me. And Lou, bless her, didn’t understand why I cried as the hero and her sidekick on-screen started their adventure. Shewas just so overjoyed to have something as simple as a trip to the movies. And me, I was confused but happy. For her. For me. And that was the worst part—I was happy, and I hated thathehad any part in that.
“Why do you work for him?” I asked Ricco as Lou climbed up the jungle gym and Boyan descended a slide.
The screams of happy children and the chatter of bored adults echoed around the closed space that reeked of food grease, body odor, and old foam. We’d been at this indoor playground for the last hour, my siblings hyped up on a mix of excitement and oily pepperoni pizza, hot dogs, and soda. They’d been running, climbing, and sliding since I gave them the okay to have fun after they finished their food. Who was I to ruin their rare moment of fun? Lou didn’t talk about her life before foster care, but from the way she hid in closets whenever Marlene yelled, it was obvious it hadn’t been good before her mom’s first overdose and the state took custody. Boyan, on the other hand, remembered nothing before foster care since he’d been found on the streets alone at the age of two.
“Because I look up to him.”
I blinked, stopping the hot dog halfway to my mouth, shocked by the utter seriousness on his usually childlike face.
