Blue and yellow were my favorite colors.
I took a few steps inside, not quite sure what to say to my foster mom. I’m not crazy, I promise? That’s exactly what a crazy person would say. A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed it down and turned around, rubbing my hands along the sides of my jeans.
“How do you like it?” she asked. “Is the bedspread okay?”
“Yeah.”
She nodded, satisfied. “There’s some paperwork to do.This is an inventory form for everything you brought with you. You can fill this out while you’re unpacking. You don’t have a phone, do you?” she asked as she handed me a paper and pen.
I shook my head. “Broken,” I said as I looked down at the form. I was glad to have something to do other than standing in an empty room, stumbling through what to say to a stranger who now had complete control over my life—unless Deena found my mom, anyway. But that would be a miracle. I’d been trying for years with no luck.
“Dinner will be ready soon. You can come downstairs whenever you’re unpacked and showered.”
I touched my hair, remembering what happened to my last meal. “I’m not that hungry right now,” I said.
“Well, when you are, you know where the kitchen is.” Ms. Reid went to leave but paused at the door. “I don’t think you were paying attention to our earlier conversation, but Ms. Pritchard mentioned you’ve had to miss a week of school in addition to other absences. We feel that beginning school as soon as possible would be best for you.”
She paused, waiting for an answer.
“Okay,” I said, not feeling okay at all. I’d barely gotten here, and now they wanted me to jump into a new life right after getting swept out of the last one. But it was my first fifteen minutes here, so it was probably a good idea to play along—at least while Deena was close enough to turn around, drag me back into the van, and drop me off at the nearest residential facility.
“Your caseworker mentioned that your bag has clothes you can wear to school tomorrow. After you’re dressed, you can meet us downstairs for breakfast at 7:15. You and Mickey will leave for the bus at around 7:30, so that should give you enough time to eat.”
After another pause, Ms. Reid said, “We’ll see you in the morning, then.”
“Okay,” I said, waiting until the door closed before sitting down on the plush carpet. I took as deep a breath as I dared and released it in one big whoosh. A large clock above the door ticked, a flat sound that marked the passing seconds.
I didn’t keep track of how long I stayed like that, listening to the clock tick, but filling my mind with the steady beat brought a calm I never got in the hospital. The nurses were always barging in, making notes, replacing IVs, asking about pain. No real door that would stay shut for as long as I wanted. And when I was alone in the hospital, there was no clock ticking—no steady sound I could latch onto so my thoughts wouldn’t wander.
I rolled onto my back, folding my arms folded behind my head so my smelly hair wouldn’t touch the carpet.
Tick tock, tick tock.
The steady rhythm lulled me to sleep, stray thoughts of Caleb sneaking in, swirling around in a muddled mess. But as soon I closed my eyes, my mind cleared with the sharp abruptness of shattering glass, jerking me…awake?
I looked around, but I was no longer in my bedroom. Instead, I seemed to be in a space that was neither light nor dark—kind of a dusk. All around me was emptiness framed by a sort of white fog, making it impossible to see anything beyond the length of a large living room. I squinted my eyes, turning in a slow circle.
I couldn’t be the only one here; dreams didn’t stick you into solitary confinement. Well, at least they never had before. And in any case, I found myself fully expecting someone to be here. Even as I circled around and only saw the haziness around me, that expectation stayed rooted, certain.
Something—someone—moved on the floor, shifting. I jumped back in surprise when I finally noticed the prone figure lying not even five feet in front of me, camouflaged by the haze to where his dark form blended into the floor.
This had to be a dream.
As I edged closer to the person on the floor, anticipation built in me. I knew, knew, it was Caleb—just like I knew I wasn’t alone here. There it was: the shape of his shoulders, the fall of his rough black hair. But he was on the floor, so either he was hurt or…
I swallowed and crouched down, hoping that this wasn’t some messed up dream sequence where he jerked toward me covered in blood. That would suck.
But when I leaned over to peer into his face, it was calm. His chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths. Sleeping. The relief unbalanced me, and I fell onto the floor—if you could call the hazy blank grayness a floor. It felt solid enough, anyway.
Scrambling closer to Caleb, I put a hand on his shoulder and hesitated. I shook my head. This was a dream. Me shaking him awake wasn’t going to hurt him.
I found myself only nudging him anyway. And then a little harder. Before long, I brought both of my hands on either side of his shoulders and shook him as hard as I could, which wasn’t very. Shaking someone lying on the floor was surprisingly difficult to do.
I blew my hair out of my face and stood, glaring at him. Maybe if I kicked him in the shoulder.
But even the thought dredged up a large dose
