Chapter 33
I’d been speechless, that night in the garden, after Jonah had called me out on my fake crush.
I guess if your parents think you’re flirting with Carlos in the dinner queue, it’s better than them wondering what you’re doing out here with me.
‘Wh-what?’ I finally managed to stammer, after what felt like a lifetime of Jonah’s eyes lasering into mine.
‘It’s not allowed, is it?’
‘Me being in the garden with you?’ Feigning confusion was my only defence.
He simply raised one eyebrow, before eventually pushing back his chair and standing up.
‘At least this time you’re wearing a jumper,’ he muttered, before disappearing into the shadow of the house.
The night chill had turned the skin on my legs to ice before I trusted them to stop trembling enough to follow him.
It was excruciating, trying to work out if Jonah reciprocated my feelings or not. The songs, the lingering stares and secretive smiles, the comment about me wearing a jumper all implied he did. But it was so far-fetched that even an optimist like me couldn’t dare to hope it was true – despite arguing with myself that an optimist would be hoping it wasn’t true, as that was far better for everyone.
Then, after walking home from an English exam a few days later, things got even more complicated.
‘Another family conference,’ Nicky announced, skipping down the stairs as I was trudging up them. I made no attempt to hurry as I dumped my bag, changed out of my uniform into denim shorts and a T-shirt and retied my ponytail.
‘Libby, glad you could join us,’ Dad said as I slouched into a seat at the kitchen table.
‘Are we waiting for Bronah?’ Nicky asked, grabbing a home-made cookie from a plate that forewarned my parents meant business.
‘Not this time, no,’ Mum said. ‘He’s out with his social worker and doesn’t know we’re talking about this, so please don’t mention it.’
‘Sounds ominous.’ Nicky waggled her eyebrows at me.
I was in no state to reply. The fear that this could be about me and Jonah sent a surge of panic through my bloodstream. I raced through the possibilities – they’d learned that Carlos left Bigley ages ago, or had figured out the playlist – oh, my goodness, had they read my journal?
‘Not at all. But it is serious, and we didn’t want to get his hopes up,’ Mum answered.
‘You both know that we’ve told social services we’ll happily continue caring for Jonah, moving from short-term fostering to a permanent placement, but he’s not been sure whether this is what he wants,’ Dad said. ‘Well, he’s finally explained why.’
I was going to throw up any second.
‘He doesn’t want to give up hope of living with Ellis and Billy,’ Mum continued.
‘But the chances of there being a family with space to take three kids, including a teenager, are virtually non-existent,’ Nicky said, through a mouthful of cookie.
‘Virtually. But not completely,’ Dad said. ‘Social services are wondering whether they’ve already found one.’
‘Who?’ I couldn’t help blurting.
‘Ta-da.’ Mum waved at us from across the table.
‘You’re going to foster Ellis and Billy, too?’ Nicky asked. ‘I thought they were being put up for adoption.’
‘They are.’
My parents allowed the aftershock of that bombshell to reverberate across the kitchen.
‘You’re going to adopt Ellis and Billy?’ Nicky asked, sounding stunned.
‘We’re thinking about applying to adopt all three of them,’ Dad said, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears.
‘You know how we feel about them,’ Mum went on. ‘Thirty-nine children and we’ve always known we were just a rest-stop on their journeys. They weren’t meant to be ours. But this time, right from the start, it felt different. It would be incredible to see the siblings back together, and there’s no way that will happen unless we step up.’
Dad reached to take her hand. ‘But, of course, that also depends on you two. It’s a huge ask, a massive change for all of us, and we won’t go ahead unless everyone is certain.’
‘Like we’re going to be the selfish birth-kids who say no to keeping siblings together?’ Nicky said. ‘You can’t put that on us.’
‘More like, you’re going to be the honest, informed, realistic birth-kids who help us to work out the best decision for all of us. Just because you two aren’t vulnerable or traumatised, it doesn’t mean your wishes or your lives matter any less.’
‘Could have fooled me,’ Nicky muttered.
‘This will change things forever. We need to know what you honestly think about it.’
‘Where will they sleep?’ Nicky asked, first. ‘Will I still have a bedroom when I come home for the holidays?’
So started a three-way conversation that went on for over an hour. Occasionally someone would ask what I thought about a practical or emotional issue, but the only way I could answer was to focus on Ellis and Billy, who I loved enough to happily become a forever-big-sister to, rather than allow myself to contemplate what it would mean for me and Jonah. Or Bronah, as he really would be then.
I spluttered a couple of sentences about how it would be nice to have permanent siblings, rather than the endless merry-go-round of new children moving in and out.
We concluded the family meeting by agreeing to think about it for a few more days, then talk again, but it was a meaningless delay. It was clear that three of the Franklins had already decided, and the fourth one wasn’t going to be honest with them.
That left me with only one option. I had to get over Jonah King, and quickly.
I also had to burn my journal.
My biggest regret was not burning it right then and there.