The cold rain was coming down in sheets as the case worker pulled the car seat out of the back of the car. She struggled to keep a firm grip on it as she sloshed through the wet yard towards the house with her burden. Thankfully, there was a metal awning over the concrete stoop, and she was able to sit the child in his carrier down so that she could shift the diaper bag onto her shoulder and tap on the front door.

The door opened and the case worker smiled at the older woman apologetically, “Sorry for such short notice …”

The woman shooed her apology away, as she reached for the car seat, “Oh, aren’t you just adorable,” she cooed, as she quickly looked over the little boy that was staring back up at her with big, concerned eyes, “You can’t be much over a year and a half, as tiny as you are.”

“He’s a month shy of two, actually,” the case worker explained, as she sat the diaper bag down, “He’s malnourished and developmentally delayed,” she reached into her purse and pulled out a few folded papers, “He has another doctor’s appointment next week. I suspect he’ll want you to set up an appointment with a speech therapist. My name’s Betty Channing, by the way.”

The woman raised back up and offered her hand, “I’m Margie Rawlings, but I guess you already know that?”

“I do,” Betty gave a cursory glance around the compact living room. The house was small, but clean. It would do. It would have to, “Your husband is …”

“Len’s over at our daughter’s place, putting up some shelves for her. We didn’t expect to receive a placement this quick. We just finished our foster care training classes earlier this week.”

Betty shrugged, “That’s how it is. Always more kids than homes to put them in. So, there’s some diapers in the bag, and another outfit. You’ll have to go shopping for him pretty quick, I’m afraid. His name is Dave Monroe, by the way.”

“Dave,” Margie unhooked the straps of the car seat and lifted him out and up onto her hip, “Dave is a fine name,” she glanced back at Betty, “We’ll take good care of him, don’t you worry.”

“I know you will,” Betty nodded, “Don’t get too attached, though.”

“Oh, I won’t. The classes already taught us that most of these kids return to their parents,” Margie cocked her head to the side, “Still, I can’t imagine why a child this sweet could be removed from his home.” She looked at Betty questioningly, hoping that she would spill the beans, even just a little.

“You know I’m not supposed to say,” Betty’s eyes narrowed, but then she sighed deeply, “I suppose it would be fine to tell you that he was removed from his home because an aunt called the authorities. She claimed that she witnessed abuse and neglect.”

Margie gasped in dismay as her arms tightened protectively around Dave, “The poor thing.” she frowned as she instinctively started rocking the boy back and forth in a soothing manner.

The social worker nodded sympathetically, but honestly, at this point in her career, she was used to the tragic circumstances of her clients, and it didn’t move her as much as it had when she had been just starting out.

“I’ll be in touch when he gets a court date,” Betty ruffled Dave’s hair and turned to leave, “Good luck with the little guy.”

********************************************************************

“Seven months. He’s been with us seven months,” Margie wailed, “And he’s made such good progress. He’s gained four pounds and he’s learned so many words …”

“Margie, remember what I said about not getting attached,” Betty clucked over the phone, “I know you and Len did a wonderful job with Dave, but the judge felt that the parents’ had met their commitments to reclaim custody. That’s just how things work. You know that.”

“But what if they neglect him again. Or, or hurt him, physically?” Margie was beside herself as she paced back and forth in her living room.

“Then he’ll be taken out of their home again.”

“But that’s horrible!” Margie exclaimed, as Len gestured for her to hand him the phone, “So he has to go back with the people that hurt him in the first place. That just doesn’t make any sense. They’ll hurt him again.”

“They might not.” was all Betty could say.

***********************************************************************

“Dave, can you show me where your daddy hit you?”

“Here,” Dave pointed at his backside, “And he did this.”

The doctor watched as Dave showed him how his father had wrapped his hand around his upper arm and squeezed. The finger shaped bruises on the boy’s arm bore out his story.

“How old are you, Dave?”

“Five.”

“Five, huh?” the doctor raised a concerned brow. The child looked no older than four, at best, “Can I take a quick peek at your back, Dave?”

Dave nodded as the doctor gently lifted the t-shirt and closed his eyes in shocked dismay when he saw the large, black and blue bruise that ran from beneath the child’s shorts all the way up his lower back.

He walked over to the exam room door and opened it, “Hey, Carol,” he called down the hallway, “Call social services for me and get someone down here, please.”

************************************************************************

“Dave, I’m Randy Donahue and I’m going to take you to your new home, alright?”

Dave looked down at his shoes as he moved them back and forth, watching the laces flop around. He didn’t want to leave the doctor’s office. They had toys and the nurses were nice and had given him pop and suckers.

“How about we stop at McDonald’s on the way and get you a cheeseburger? Would you like that?”

Dave shrugged. Even at the tender age of five, he was well versed in the knowledge that it didn’t really matter what he wanted because he was at the mercy of the adults around him.

**********************************************************************

“Dave, this is Mrs. Lewis. She and her husband, Tom are going to be taking care of you.”

“You can call me Sara, Dave. And this is my daughter, Shannon. Shannon, say hi to Dave.”

Dave looked at Shannon and smiled, tentatively. She smirked at him and went back to watching a game show on the television. Dave felt worried, but wasn’t sure why. He felt like crying, but knew that that would only cause trouble for himself. He did know that, at least.

“Okay, so, Dave, I got to go, but listen, buddy, I’ll come check on you next week some time. You’re going to love it here.”

After Randy left, Sara took him to his room. He liked it immediately, especially the bookcase that was full of picture books. He looked up at Sara, “Can I look at them?” he asked her.

“Sure you can. You can’t read yet, though, can you?”

Dave shook his head as he pulled one of the books out of its place. It had a bunny on the front. He took it over to the bed and opened it eagerly, already loosing himself in its promise of escape.

************************************************************************

“Hey, Dave, how about you come with me fishing this weekend?” Tom asked him with a wink.

They were eating dinner at the dining room table that had a blue checked tablecloth and a big flower centerpiece in the middle that blocked his view of Shannon. That was okay with him, though.

Before he could answer, Shannon cried, “But, Daddy, what if I want to come?”

“You can come to,” Tom answered, “But I didn’t think you liked fishing much.”

“Shannon, you can come with me to check out that new mall they put up. You need some clothes for summer camp. At least some new shoes so I can throw those ratty ones away.”

“Fine, but I want a new Cabbage Patch doll too.” Shannon leaned around the flower arrangement and stuck her tongue out at Dave.

Later, after dinner, Shannon came into his room and sat down beside him on his bed.

“That’s my book,” she hissed, as she pulled it out of his hands, “In fact, these are all my books,” she pinched him on his arm, twisting the skin until he almost cried out, “I hate you. I wish you weren’t even here.”

************************************************************************

“Looks like you’re going home, buddy,” Randy passed him his ice cream cone. They were in the drive through of McDonald’s, after Randy had picked him up early from school, “How do you feel about that?”

Dave didn’t say anything. He watched a drop of vanilla ice cream slide down the cone and pool on the side of his finger.

“Your parents want you back. They worked hard to get you back, buddy. I bet you miss them, huh?”

Dave licked his cone and looked out the car window.

************************************************************************

“Oh my god, Sherilyn, he’s covered in bruises!”

“He fell! He, he’s clumsy, Jan, you know that.”

“Stop it! Just stop it! Dave, go in your room and get some clothes. You’re coming with me. And Sherilyn, you’re a fucking wreck. When are you finally going to leave that scumbag? He’s a good kid. You’ve got a good kid. He doesn’t deserve this shit.”

“You can’t just take my kid, Jan.” Dave heard his mother say, as he scurried to do his aunt’s bidding. He felt dizzy still, from the hit that his dad had given him to his head, and his ear was ringing as he threw a pair of jeans and his favorite t-shirt in a paper grocery bag. He searched for his books and put them in, too. No way he was leaving them behind.

************************************************************************

“Dave, could you come with me please?” Mrs. Henry lightly touched his shoulder. Her eyes were sad as she gently smiled at him.

Dave felt a weight settle in his stomach as he started to rise.

“Don’t forget your jacket.”

He could feel the eyes of his classmates on his back as he followed her out the door and into the empty hallway. There were two police officers and a woman wearing a navy pantsuit standing right outside the office doors. They stopped talking to each other and moved aside as Dave and Mrs. Henry approached.

Dave hoped that if he didn’t catch any of their eyes then maybe they wouldn’t be there for him. They were in the school for someone else and the only reason that he was being led into the principal’s office was because he’d won an award, or maybe Aunt Jan was taking him out of school early because he had a dentist appointment and she’d forgotten to remind him.

“Dave, come in, son, and have a seat.” Mr. Lineman said.

Dave stopped just outside the door. He looked up at Mrs. Henry.

“Go on, Dave. It’s okay.”

Tears were forming in his eyes, but Dave blinked, trying desperately to keep them at bay as he slid into the seat in front of Mr. Lineman’s desk.

“Mr. Lineman, perhaps it would be better if it came from me,” a woman’s voice said, softly, from the doorway.

Dave glanced behind him. The woman in the pantsuit was moving into the room. He could smell her perfume and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Of course. Yes. Of course,” Mr. Lineman stood up and came around the edge of his desk. He pulled a chair out for the woman, “Dave, this is Mrs. Bales and she just wants to have a word with you, son.”

Mrs. Bales settled into the seat beside Dave. Her small mouth formed a pitying smile that made him want to jump up and run from the room, only now, Mr. Lineman was blocking the doorway as he hovered uncertainly behind them.

“Dave, unfortunately, your Aunt Jan has been in an accident. A bad one, apparently, and, well, there’s no easy way to say this, but she didn’t survive it, I’m afraid.”

The knot in Dave’s stomach twisted as his shoulders began to shake of their own accord.

“The school records show that you lived with your Aunt Jan, but your parents’ names were listed as well. Sherilyn and Hugh Monroe?”

Dave focused his eyes on the floor. Mrs. Bales shoes were pointy toed and he wondered if it hurt, having your toes all scrunched up like that.

“Dave? Dave, the police have already had a nice chat with your parents and they are waiting for us to bring you to them. I know this is difficult, but you’re so lucky to have them.”

************************************************************************

“Get the hell in here and clean up this damn mess!”

Dave tossed his library book aside and rushed into the living room. His dad was groaning and clenching his stomach on the sofa. The smell of vomit made Dave look down at the stained carpet. He sighed and went to the bathroom to run a towel under the sink.

He returned to the living room and approached the couch carefully. Anything, absolutely anything, could set his father off, and then he would be in for a beating. He dropped down to his knees, shoved the empty beer cans away, and started scrubbing at the disgusting splatter.

“When you’re done, get me a couple of aspirin. And where the hell is your damn mom, huh?”

“She went to the laundry mat.” Dave swallowed, quelling his gag reflex as the strong smell drifted up from the filthy floor.

“Fuck that. She’s probably fucking around on me again, the damn bitch.”

“No. No, she’s doing the laundry. I helped her put it in the car.”

“So what are you, a fucking know-it-all now?” Hugh sat up and pulled his hand back, threateningly.

Dave felt his body tighten, preparing for the blows that were sure to come.

Suddenly, Hugh stood up and marched over to the open screen door and stepped out onto the porch. Dave quickly finished his chore. He ran the towel under the bathtub sink and draped it over the edge of the tub to dry before scurrying back into his room. The summer had seemed never ending, but school was starting tomorrow. It was the one place that he felt safe, and he couldn’t wait.

He picked up his book. It was one that his Aunt Jan had given him. He missed her desperately and he couldn’t believe that it had been two years since he’d last seen her. He’d endured. He wasn’t sure how, but he had.

The screen door slammed and he heard his dad’s heavy footsteps approach. He looked around his tiny bedroom. There wasn’t anywhere to go. He slid his book beneath his butt. His dad hated seeing him read.

“Make yourself useful and go get your mother back here.” Hugh snarled as he appeared inside the doorway.

“But she’s at the laundry mat.”

“So?”

“It’s too far to walk.”

“You listen to me, you sorry son of a bitch,” Hugh lunged for him. He grabbed Dave’s arm and yanked him up off of the bed, “You get your scrawny ass out of here and get her the fuck back or I’ll beat the living shit out of you.”

“Okay.” Dave said, quickly, as he waited for his father to release his arm.

“And you tell that bitch that if she’s fucking around on me and I find out, she’s as good as dead. You tell her that.”

**********************************************************************

“Stop it, Hugh. I told you I was doing laundry. And there it is. There’s the damn laundry.”

“It was that damn construction guy, wasn’t it? That fucking piece of shit’s always looking at you every time you step out of the damn house. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring back, either.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look at what you’re wearing. You look like a goddamn whore out on the fucking boulevard. Who the hell wears that shit to a fucking laundry mat?”

In his room, Dave tried to drown them out. He put his arms under his pillow and pulled both sides up over his ears, trying not to think about how much his feet hurt. It had been a long, long walk to the laundry mat and his shoes were too tight on his feet but they didn’t have the money to buy a new pair yet.

Suddenly, his father burst into the room and pulled Dave out of bed. He shoved him out into the living room and threw him on the floor in front of his mother.

“There’s your illegitimate bastard, Sherilyn. Who’s the damn father, huh?”

“He’s yours, Hugh. You know he’s yours.”

Hugh’s fist shot out, catching Sherilyn on her jaw. She cried out, but that only seemed to unleash his rage even more.

As his father continued his assault on his mother, Dave got to his feet and tried to wedge himself in between them. He’d done it before, but this time it only seemed to enrage his father even more.

Dave felt blow after blow as he tried to protect his mother. He wasn’t big enough to defend her, really. He wanted to be, more than anything, he wanted to be.

***********************************************************************

“Dave, how did you get those bruises on your arms?”

“I fell off my bike.” Dave whispered. He was sitting on a table in the school nurse’s office. He was mad that someone had ratted him out. Why couldn’t people mind their own business? He tugged on his sleeve, trying to hide the marks from the nurse’s sharp eyes.

“Do you mind if I take a closer look?” she asked him, as she reached for his arm and started pulling the sleeve up.

He tugged his arm back, “I’m okay. I just want to go back to class.”

The nurse had seen enough. She went to the door, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

************************************************************************

“When you’re done with that, I need you to help Ellie with the weeding.”

Dave laid a brick on the wall and stopped to wipe his face. It was hotter than hell and he’d been out in the full sun for the past three hours, “Can I get a drink first?” he croaked.

Lettie Mosby, or, Mrs. Mosby, as she wanted to be called by the foster children, pursed her lips together tightly as she inspected the brick wall that Dave was building around the patio, “One glass of water and then you help Ellie with the weeding like I said.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dave watched her leave beneath his lashes. He picked up his trowel and laid out another line of mortar just like Mr. Mosby had taught him. The Mosby’s had been his foster parents’ for three years now, almost four, and he’d learned to accept their strict ways. He, and the other five foster children that lived with them, received three meals a day, a bed to sleep in, a road trip vacation once a year, and a steady education, in return for their unpaid labor.

Sweat rolled off his nose and dripped onto the red brick he’d just laid. It had to be at least 95 degrees out. He stepped back and examined his work. It wasn’t horrible considering he’d never done it before. He cleaned off his trowel and went inside.

The house wasn’t large. In fact, it was only a three bedroom, but the foster kids were separated by gender and slept in bunkbeds, so it didn’t need to be. Dave only cared about the size because he, and the other foster kids, had to clean it several times a week. He stepped into the kitchen and filled his water glass at the faucet.

“Thirsty work, isn’t it?”

Dave nodded. Mr. Mosby was seated at the dining table, doing his crossword puzzle.

“You finish?” Mr. Mosby asked him.

“Yeah. It’s done.”

Mr. Mosby pushed back his chair, noisily, “Let’s go have a look at it then.”

Dave threw back the rest of his water, sat the glass down and followed him out to the back yard.

Mr. Mosby’s face was instantly covered in a sheen of sweat as they stood looking at the wall. He almost never left the house except to get into his air conditioned car.

“Did you measure the water like I told you?” he rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead and glared at Dave.

“I did with the first few batches.” Dave said, as alarm bells started ringing in his head.

Mr. Mosby reached out and pulled one of the freshly laid bricks off. He tossed it to the ground and reached for another. It, too, came off easily. He looked at Dave, “You put too much water in the mortar, idiot. I told you to follow the damn directions, didn’t I?”

Dave felt his cheeks flame up as he watched in horror as Mr. Mosby kicked at the wall, repeatedly. The freshly laid bricks tumbled off, landing messily in the yard and on the patio, along with the still damp concrete that had once held it all together.

Like a child having a temper tantrum, Mr. Mosby kicked and kicked at the wall until he finally ran out of steam. The front of his shirt was soaked in sweat as he bent down and picked up a brick, “Looks like you’re going to have to do it again,” he tossed the brick at Dave, hitting him in the chest, “And do it right this time, you dumb fuck.”

**********************************************************************

“Ready to get out of here?”

“Of course.” Dave said, as he stood beside his new case worker, watching him sign the paperwork that would release him from juvenile hall.

“Here, you might need this,” the case worker handed him a coat, “I’m Rick Landis by the way.”

They stepped outside. There was a foot of new snow on the ground, and a blast of artic air made them gasp in discomfort.

Rick led them to a minivan. There were two car seats in the back, “Where are you taking me now?” Dave asked him, as he slid into the front seat.

“A good place,” Rick looked at him sternly, as he took a manila folder off his dash and read from a sheet of paper, “Mr. Abrams. John Abrams. And you’re not going to run away from this place, Dave. Not again.”

Dave shrugged.

“Look, Dave, the state is not going to keep doing this. You’ve ran away from five different foster homes and this needs to be the keeper, okay.”

“I’m not promising anything, man,” Dave spotted a hair tie hanging from the rearview. He reached for it, “Can I have this?” he asked.

“My daughter’s, but sure.”

“Thanks.” His hair was down to his shoulders now, and Dave used the tie to put it back in a low ponytail.

“You’re seventeen, Dave. You need to finish school and get prepared for your future.”

Dave scowled at him, “Yeah, what future is that?”

************************************************************************

“Could I talk to you a minute?”

“Sure. What’s up?” Dave watched as his foster dad, John, came in and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“You turn eighteen tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Dave put his book down, “I already told you not to make a big deal of it.”

“I’m not,” John sighed, his discomfort obvious, “But as of tomorrow, you’ve aged out of the system, and you’ll need to find another place to live. I know it …”

“Wait. What? What does that mean?”

“I won’t be getting paid to keep you here any longer,” John explained, “I can only offer a home to one child, and I need the money that the state offers me for keeping that child. You’ll have to find another place to live.”

“But I thought we had a good thing going here …”

“We do. We do,” John was nodding his head, “Dave, you know as well as I do that this is a two bedroom apartment. It’s not that I don’t care about you, but you’re an adult now, and it’s time to strike out on your own.”

“But I don’t even have a job. How am I supposed to take care of myself?”

“I believe that I warned you about this several times in the past year.”

“Yeah?” Dave’s voice rose in frustration, “Well I believe that I was trying to finish high school, like you told me to do! I only need a few credits to graduate. How am I supposed to go to school, work, and get an apartment?”

“I’m sorry, Dave, but my hands are tied here. I’ll give you till Saturday. That’s all I can do.”

************************************************************************

“Get your lazy ass up and get to work.”

Dave groaned and rolled over.

Hugh thumped the back of Dave’s head, “You’re not living here for free, you lazy son of a bitch, so get the hell up out of that bed or I’ll throw you out.”

“Leave me the hell alone.” Dave mumbled, but he still threw back the cover and sat up.

He grabbed his watch and hissed when he saw that he was nearly late again. He found his jeans in a wad on the floor and pulled them on.

“Stop and pick me up another couple six packs on your way home, will you?”

“Fuck that,” Dave held a t-shirt up and checked it for stains before throwing it over his head, “Go out and get it yourself.”

“Watch your damn mouth,” Hugh grabbed Dave’s arm and squeezed it painfully, “You might be taller than me now, but I can still drop you, asshole.”

Dave shook him off as he sauntered to the front door and outside. He saw the bus just pulling up at the corner and he ran for it, catching it just as the driver started to pull away.

He needed a car, but at the rate he was going, he’d be working at the burger joint and riding the damn city bus until the end of time.

************************************************************************

“Did you bring me my beer?” Hugh asked, the moment Dave stepped through the door.

“I told you to go get it yourself.” Dave said, as he headed for his bedroom. He’d had a horrible day and he was in no mood to deal with his dad’s crap.

“Fuck you, then.”

Dave heard his dad’s footsteps stomping up behind him and suddenly his arm was grabbed and he was swung around. His dad’s fist connected with his jaw. Shocked, Dave shoved his father away, but Hugh came at him again, punching him in the stomach like a prizefighter.

Dave doubled over from the pain. Hugh threw an uppercut at his jaw, hard enough that Dave felt his teeth cut into his lip. Enraged, he started throwing his own punches, even as he was horrified that he was forced to defend himself from his own father.

“You goddamn son of a bitch,” his dad screamed, “Showing up here expecting us to take you in and then sashaying around like you own the damn place. You can get the hell out and stay out this time.”

As his father’s punches landed on his kidneys, Dave kicked out, finally managing to knock his father down on the floor.

Suddenly, Hugh reached behind him and pulled a gun out from his waistband. He pointed it at Dave, “I’m going to kill you, you fucking worthless piece of shit. I should’ve done it long ago.”

Dave tried to kick the gun out of his father’s hand, but he lost his balance. Hugh jumped on top of him and they fought for control. Finally, Dave managed to wrest the gun away from his father and he stood up, gasping for breath as his lungs burned and his back throbbed.

“I’ll be damned,” Hugh sneered, as he slowly got to his feet, “You finally grew a pair. Looks like you’re more like your old man than I thought.”

Dave felt the bite of tears sting his eyes as he looked at his hand that held the gun on his father. He blinked hard, fighting the tears back as he always did. He took a deep, grounding breath. He sat the gun down on the table, “No, Dad, I’m nothing like you.” he said, as he walked out the front door.