Jeb

Chapter 2

Jebediah Torres stood on the sidewalk, his gaze fixed on the nondescript two-story brick home in a neighborhood that appeared achingly familiar. As he glanced to the side, the neighbors’ houses mirrored the one in front of him. The neighborhood he’d lived in with his parents was very much the same—houses that all looked alike. But inside, he knew that was where the differences came into play.

His mother had loved what she liked to call soft colors. Pale blues, gentle yellows, and soothing greens had adorned the throw pillows, his parents’ bedspread, and the bath towels. His room, however, was a stark contrast, filled with posters of cartoon heroes brought to life. Superman. Captain America. Thor. Wolverine. All the things he loved.

But that was all in the past before his world shattered. Now, he stood in front of another house, wondering what it would be like inside.

In the six months since his parents” tragic accident, he’d been shuffled between three temporary foster placements. Now, Mrs. McKenzie, his social worker, led him to this new destination with a hopeful smile. Looking over her shoulder, she called out, “Come on, Jeb. Remember, I told you this is where you get to stay from now on. You’re going to love the Bakers! They’re one of our best foster families!”

Jeb was only eleven years old, but in the past few months, he’d been forced to accept life’s harsh realities. Parents didn’t always survive. Kids didn’t always get to stay in their homes. And foster homes didn’t replace what he’d lost.

With no other choice, he sighed heavily as he trudged behind her up to the front porch.

The door swung open, and he was taken aback by the sight of a small girl standing on the other side of the screen door. She was tiny, with long, black hair accentuating her fair skin. But what struck him most was her pale blue eyes. He’d never met anyone with eyes so light in color.

A voice from inside the house interrupted his captivation. “Skylar, sweetie. Step back and let me welcome our new guest.”

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from the entrancing eyes. Skylar. He’d not only never seen eyes so light, but he’d never met anyone named Skylar. Looking up at the approaching woman, he was met with a smiling face staring down at him. Her hair was brown with a few streaks of silver. She wore jeans and a bright red sweatshirt, beaming warmth as she opened the screen door when Skylar scampered back.

“Hello! You must be Jeb. I’m Marlene Baker, your new foster mom. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you join us, Jeb.”

He followed Mrs. McKenzie inside, his gaze quickly taking in the neat interior. Glancing to the left, he saw blue and green pillows on the dark green sofa. The weight on his chest lifted slightly at the sight.

Mrs. Baker ushered him and Mrs. McKenzie toward the back, where she invited them to sit at the kitchen table. She set a saucer with two chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk in front of him. Staring at the treat, he was flooded with memories of his mother offering the same snack when he’d get home from school in the afternoons.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. He didn’t want to cry all the time, but it was a struggle to accept that he’d never see his mom again.

He distracted himself by munching on the cookies and drinking the milk, pretending not to eavesdrop on the conversation between the two women. In reality, he hung on every word they uttered. He’d learned to do that in the last six months. He knew to listen for phrases such as, “This is only temporary,” “We don’t have room right now,” and “He may have to sleep on the sofa.”

Yet the exchange between Mrs. Baker and Mrs. McKenzie didn’t sound like any other foster home he’d been in. They talked about his school, and his chest eased a little more to learn that he wouldn’t have to change schools again. Mrs. McKenzie spoke of his love of sports and computers. Mrs. Baker wanted to know what his favorite foods were. So far, this home was different from the others.

Relaxing slightly, he glanced around the kitchen, noting the large refrigerator and lots of fruit piled high in a bowl on the counter. Plastic crates filled with rainboots and hats were against the wall by the back door. Names were on each crate, and he easily found the one labeled Skylar, seeing small pink boots. A strange warmth filled him at the thought of the little girl wearing pink boots. There were four crates, each with names on them. He pressed his lips together. Four. I’ll make five. He blew out a long, silent breath. That seemed like a lot of kids in one house. Only three kids were in his last house, and the foster mom complained that it was too crowded. He shot another gaze toward Mrs. Baker, but her smile was still in place. Maybe five kids won’t be too many for her.

By the time Mrs. McKenzie left, the air moved in and out of his lungs easier. With a smile, Mrs. Baker picked up his suitcase, and he followed her upstairs. She explained that she and her husband had a bedroom on the first floor, and the three bedrooms upstairs were for the children they fostered. The room she ushered him into had bunk beds. “This will be yours,” she said, pointing at the bottom bunk. “Randy will be here after school and has the top bunk. He’s twelve, so the two of you are close in age. He’s a sweet boy, and I’m sure you’ll be good friends.”

Jeb didn’t hold out any hope that he and Randy would be good friends from what he’d seen in his other foster homes. But if Randy would at least not try to steal his things or beat him up, his situation would be an improvement.

“This door leads to the bathroom, and on the other side is another bedroom. We have one older boy, John, who is sixteen. He’ll be with us a few more years, but he’s involved in lots of after-school sports and activities, so you might not see him as much.”

Following her back into the hall, he caught sight of an open door across the hall. That bedroom also had bunk beds, both covered in pink bedspreads.

“The two girls are across the hall and have their own bathroom,” Mrs. Baker explained. “You met Skylar, and the other girl is older. Carol, like John, is in high school.”

Over the next couple of weeks, Jeb slowly adapted to the Baker household. Mr. and Mrs. Baker were friendly, loving, and determined to ensure each child who passed through their door was met with kindness and understanding.

The school was a large complex, with the elementary school on one side and the middle school and high school just one block over. Each morning, the five children walked together, splitting when it came time for John, Carol, and Randy to head to the upper schools, leaving him and Skylar to walk to the elementary school.

For the first weeks, they said little to each other. That was fine with him since he hated to try to think of things to say. She rarely spoke, but sometimes he’d find her pale blue eyes on him, then she’d quickly look away when he turned to stare. He was shocked when he found out that she was only one year younger than him. With her diminutive size, he’d expected her to be no more than nine or ten. With him in fifth grade and she in fourth, he was fascinated by her and determined that he had nothing in common with her. After all, she was just a little girl.

One day, Skylar shifted closer to him when they walked past a group of boys who snickered. Once past them, he asked, “Do they bother you?”

She hefted her thin shoulders. “Sometimes. They just call me names.”

Incensed, he asked, “What names?”

“Skinny Skylar. Alien Eyes.”

Her voice held a touch of sadness, tinged with anger. She kicked a little pebble on the sidewalk, then swiped her hand over her cheeks. Without thinking, Jeb whirled around and stalked to the boys, his hands clenched into fists. “No more. No more name-calling. You”ll have to answer me if I hear you’ve picked on her again.”

His words must have struck a chord because they ran away. Maybe it was because he was taller and broader even though there were more of them. Whatever the reason, he didn’t care. All he knew was that a protectiveness he had no idea was in him had roared to life. He hated that she had to live in a foster home and put up with idiots who thought it was funny to call her names. He stomped back to where she watched.

As they fell into step again, she asked, “Why’d you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh.” After a moment, she turned her pale-eyed gaze up to him. “Thanks all the same. That was really nice.”

“Sometimes I get called names,” he said, surprised that he’d admitted that to her.

Her eyes widened. “Really? But you’re… you’re not like me. You’re big and strong. Why would anyone call you names?”

Now, it was his turn to shrug. “Because of my skin color.”

Her nose crinkled. “Huh?”

“It’s because I’m so tanned. My dad was Spanish, and my mom was Italian.” He shrugged as a memory floated back. One kid in his first-grade class had called him Beaner. Jeb had gone home that day and asked his parents why someone would say that. His mother had cupped his jaw and said, “Oh, Jeb, honey. Some people are afraid of anything different from them. But you hold your head up high. You have a blend of my Italian and your father’s Hispanic blood in you. What a heritage you claim!”

The memory stung, but not because of what the kid called him. Remembering his beautiful mother and gentle touch made everything seem so much better.

“Jeb.” Skylar”s soft voice brought him back to the present.

“Yeah?” He looked down to witness her blue eyes ringed in purple staring up at him.

“If anyone calls you a name here, I’ll punch them in the nose,” she vowed, her words sounding fierce despite her diminutive size. Smiling as they reached the doors to the elementary school, she whispered, “You can be my friend.”

He watched her go inside, and he stood for a moment, his hand rubbing his chest. He felt just like he did when his mother touched him. Finally, he entered the school, his chest now expanding with pride that he’d stopped Skylar’s bully. And just like she did, he vowed to be her protector.

Several days later, Jeb found the energetic Baker household to be overwhelming. Having been an only child, he occasionally felt the hustle and bustle of all the family members to be too noisy. Seeking a respite, he headed upstairs to his bedroom. Once at the top of the stairs, he spied Skylar slipping through a door and quietly closing it behind her. He had assumed it opened to a closet. Curiosity overtook him, and he slowly opened the door, surprised to see a set of stairs leading upward.

He followed the stairs and discovered an attic storage room filled with boxes and plastic tubs, some containing Christmas ornaments. He looked around but found no sign of Skylar. Wondering where she had disappeared to, he walked toward the end of the small room and spied an open window. His heart skipped a beat as he rushed forward, catching sight of her perched on a wide ledge with a rail around it outside the window. His initial instinct was to run and tell Mrs. Baker, but seeing Skylar sitting with her legs bent, her arms wrapped around her shins, and her chin resting on her knees, she appeared peaceful.

Drawing closer to the window, he saw that the wide ledge created the perfect perch and that she wasn’t close to the edge. He crept nearer, thinking he was being quiet, when she suddenly said, “You can come out here, too, if you want.”

He was gripped with uncertainty but reasoned that if it were safe enough for her, it would also be safe enough for him. Crawling over the windowsill, he settled onto the wide ledge. “What are you doing out here?”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have a place of my own.”

He couldn’t see her eyes since she faced out over the neighborhood. Twisting his head around, he spied the other rooftops, the large trees, and the neighbors’ yards. He could even see the school several blocks away. Turning back to her, he said, “You’re not alone if you invited me to come out here with you.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to have a place you can share with someone,” she quickly responded.

It was his experience that girls chattered a lot. At least, they did in school. But the more he was around Skylar, the more he realized she didn’t speak much. And now that he thought about it further, he realized that when she did, she was very precise in what she said. Uncertain what to say, he finally nodded. “Thanks for sharing it with me.”

She turned to face him, and her gaze held his for a prolonged moment before a faint smile graced her lips. It also dawned on him that most girls laughed, smiled, and giggled a lot. But a smile from Skylar felt as though she’d carefully and thoughtfully given a gift. His lips curved in response. The movement of facial muscles felt odd and unfamiliar, and it hit him that he hadn’t smiled one time since finding out his parents had been killed in a car accident.

But staring at the enigmatic little girl brave enough to climb out an attic window and kind enough to invite him to join her private place had made him smile.

Together, they turned their attention back to the neighborhood below. Neither spoke, and that was all right with him. From the little sigh he heard slip from Skylar’s lips, he assumed it was all right with her, too.

After a comfortable silence, she slowly reached over and placed her hand on his resting on the ledge. His fingers twitched briefly at the unfamiliar contact but quickly settled. He wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge her touch but finally turned his hand upward, his palm now pressing against hers. Again, neither spoke as they watched the neighborhood’s activities from their rooftop perch, but words weren’t necessary.

Finally, Mrs. Baker’s voice echoed from below, calling them to dinner. They exchanged glances and grinned. He inclined his head toward the window, indicating she should go first. Once she had crawled safely back into the attic, he followed, shutting the window behind them.

Skylar stood nearby, making no move to go downstairs. She wrapped her slender arms around her waist, holding tight. Lifting her intense gaze to his face, she remained silent, but he waited, assuming she would speak when ready.

“You won’t tell anyone about our secret place, will you?” she finally whispered.

He had a feeling that if the Bakers knew that their two youngest foster charges were sitting on an attic ledge, they’d be horrified and quickly stop it. Jeb didn’t want anything to happen to Skylar, but she was safe from what he’d seen. But then, he also wanted to make sure she was protected.

“No, it can be our secret.” As relief escaped her lungs with his assurance, he quickly added, “As long as you promise to be careful and let me be up here with you.”

Skylar furrowed her brow for a few seconds, and he realized he was taking away her private place. Pinching his lips together, he tried to think of a compromise. “Let me know if you ever need to be here alone. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He must have spoken the magic words because her hands slowly unwrapped from her middle, and a small smile slipped across her face. Nodding, she agreed. “Okay. I’ll only go out there if you know where I am.”

Mrs. Baker called from downstairs again.

“We better go, or she’ll come looking for us,” Skylar said. She reached her hand out toward him in silent invitation.

He hesitated, staring at her outstretched hand, uncertain what to do. Her fingers finally drooped, and just as her arm lowered, he reached out and clutched her hand. Giving a squeeze, he exhaled heavily, acknowledging how nice it was to feel her small hand in his. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

With a soft giggle, she nodded, and they hurried down the stairs, slipping through the door before making their way to the kitchen. He didn’t know any other almost twelve-year-old boys who would hold hands with a ten-year-old girl, but he didn’t care. At that moment, for the first time since his parents died, he felt a glimmer of hope bloom in his chest.