“He’d fallen in and I helped him out. I think he’s a runaway. Aren’t you?” she asked the boy.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Trevor and I are going to sit on the couch. Why don’t you join us after you’ve eaten your fill?”
“’Kay.”
After sitting on the couch, Jedidiah told him in an undertone, “I didn’t know who else to call. I promised him I wouldn’t tell the police or CPS. I think he might be with a foster family, or in a group home. But we haven’t really gotten that far.”
“I’m surprised he let you bring him to your apartment.”
“I was too. I think the mention of food did the trick. Plus, I was careful not to touch him once I’d helped him out and made sure he didn’t run off before we reached the apartment.”
Ricky got off the stool and walked over to them, belligerence written all over his small face. “What do you want?”
“We’d like to help you, Ricky,” Jedidiah said. “But we can’t help you if you won’t talk to us.”
“I’m not goin’ back, so don’t try to make me.”
Something about that mutinous face got to Trevor. Then he realized why. It was the same expression he’d seen on countless faces during his time in the foster care system. More recently, the first child he’d helped, the one who convinced him to join BFK, had looked like Ricky. Bradley had been older and taller, but he’d had the same brown hair and freckles.
“Back to your foster parents?” Jedidiah asked. “Is that where you were before you…ran away?”
“You can’t make me go back to them! I’ll run away again!” He ran to the door, his eyes wild with anxiety. Whatever had happened to the kid must have been bad.
Trevor exchanged glances with Jedidiah. “We’re not going to make you go back,” he said.
“Why don’t you want to go to your foster parents?” Jedidiah asked.
“I hate them.”
“Did they hurt you, Ricky?” Trevor asked. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid. I just hate them. She’s not so bad but he’s—” He broke off and added, “I hate him.”
Full of bravado but still scared to death.
“He hurt his arm, but I think he did that falling into the dumpster. I think he hurt his back too, although I’m not sure if he did that in the fall or it happened earlier,” Jedidiah said. “He wouldn’t let me look at either one.”
“They’re nothin’.”
“You know, Ricky,” Trevor said. “If your foster parents aren’t treating you right, I believe we can help you. Can I tell you about a club I belong to? We have a lot of members, kids and adults.”
“What kind of club?” he asked, suspicion coloring his voice.
“It’s called Bikers For Kids. Have you heard of us?” If he was in the foster care system, he might know of them.
“Yeah. A kid I know had to go to court. Those guys went with him.”
“Yes, that’s one of the things we do.” He explained about Bikers For Kids and how they helped kids like Ricky. He kept it brief and to the point. “Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“How long since you left?”
“Dunno.”
“More than a day?” Jedidiah asked.
