17
RILEY
Age 15
I was up to my elbows in flour with Tracy making cookies. Tosh and Beckett were due back tomorrow from their trip to New York visiting the college and we were making snickerdoodles to welcome them home. I was excited to see him again and couldn’t wait to show him the new pages I added to our comic book, even though it made me all jittery to think about it. Would Beckett get the hidden meaning behind my words? Would he know when Eagle Eye tells Detective Beach how beautiful he was, that it was really me talking?
A knock sounded on the front door just as Tracy opened the oven to place a tray of cookies inside. My stomach dropped when I answered it, seeing the child services agent, Mr. Thomas, standing there. The Henrys had passed their regular inspection just a few days ago, so why was he here?
“Riley,” he said. “May I come in? I need to talk to Mrs. Henry.”
I closed the door behind him and followed him into the kitchen. Tracy was washing her hands and did a quick double take when she saw Mr. Thomas.
I knew the moment they laid eyes on each other that something awful was about to happen. I felt it in my bones.
He glanced at me, then at Tracy. “There’s no easy way to say this, but someone’s claimed Riley.”
“What?” I shrieked. “Who?”
He pressed his lips together as he dropped his gaze. “I’m bound by the law to respect his desire for secrecy.”
Tracy went around the counter and wrapped her arms around me. “Riley doesn’t know anyone in his family. He’s said that several times.”
“I know,” he said, “but the paperwork is all there. He has proof Riley belongs to him. I’m very sorry, but I must take him.”
“Who is he? I don’t know anyone!”
“I wish there was another way,” Mr. Thomas said.
“NO!” I stepped away from Tracy, shaking my head violently. “No, I won’t go! Mr. and Mrs. Henry are my parents now, they’ve been my parents for five years. I don’t want to go!”
“I’m sorry, Riley, but they have no legal claim on you as foster parents. It is not permanent.”
“Then we’ll adopt him,” she said quickly. “Please, Mr. Thomas, don’t do this.”
Mr. Thomas’ eyes were sad. “He’s already begun the adoption process. I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”
It felt like my heart was being cut in half as I ran to the backdoor and bolted across the lawn. I ran through the fence and down the street to Beckett’s house. The door was locked, so I pounded hard, screaming their names in hopes they’d gotten back from their trip early and were just sleeping it off. I needed to see him, to hear him say this was all just a bad dream. I needed him to say this wasn’t real.
I peeked in every window and went through the fence to the back, trying every door, but there was no way in. I heard Tracy’s voice calling for me, but I couldn’t go to her. I couldn’t get near Mr. Thomas, either. I wouldn’t let him take me away. I just wouldn’t! I belonged here, with Mr. and Mrs. Henry and Beckett and Tosh. This was my home now. They couldn’t take me away from that.
I heard the side gate squeak and started to sprint across the backyard, just as a set of strong arms caught me.
“I’m sorry, Riley. I truly am,” Mr. Thomas said.
I fought him as hard as I could, but the man’s grip was firm. Then I saw Tracy’s face from across the yard and knew this wasn’t just some nightmare. Tracy didn’t cry like that. She never had tears that heavy for her foster kids.
I crumpled to the ground in defeat, praying it would open and swallow me whole. Anything to keep me from going away with this man.
“It’s not fair!” I screamed. “I don’t want to go!”
“I know. Life isn’t fair sometimes,” he said, before my whole world fell into darkness.
***
I was on cloud nine. The last week had gone better than I ever could have dreamed. Inviting Beckett to my shop and into my home had been exactly what I needed to push myself past the wall of awkward I’d been keeping between us. It made me realize how, despite the years, so much was the same about the man I’d shared my childhood with. Beckett was still the gruff, closed-off protector he was back then, but deep down, he was also just as kind, thoughtful, and encouraging. Which was a side of himself I knew, even as a kid, he shared only with me.
There was something else though, something…moreabout the way Beckett talked and acted around me now that had my heart wanting to come out of its tightly lidded box. Every time he looked at me or the things I created, it wasn’t with the same type of awe that I saw in other people’s faces. Like they were just impressed someone like me could create something so beautiful. No. With Beckett, it was a steadfast confidence. He truly believed I could achieve anything I wanted to.He understood my art was a piece ofme,not just something I did, which was something very few people understood. To know he appreciated it was an overwhelming comfort.
