Chapter 30Victor
Chapter Thirty
Victor
14 years old
I'm on the edge of the pond, but I can't bring myself to step out onto the ice. It's all frost and cold bite, kids laughing and slipping around. They're in sneakers, the ice too slick for anything like that, but they don't care. No money for skates, not here. Not in foster care.
Every month or so, the local foster homes throw a get together so us orphans can visit with the friends we've also been wrenched from. I know the adults think they're doing us a favor, but sometimes it hurts worse to trudge up old homes and old friendships.
I sit there watching them, the cold seeping through my jeans .
"Victor?" The foster mom's voice cuts through the noise. She crouches next to me, concern knitting her brow. She's kind, but it doesn't stop the hurt. "Don't you wanna give it a try?"
I shake my head, pressing my lips tight. If I open my mouth, everything will spill out – the hurt, the betrayal. So I pretend I'm okay, that everything is all good even when it hurts so damn much. She pats my back, a soft thump of reassurance, before she's up again, moving to check on some other kid who's taken a tumble.
"Watch your step!" she calls out, her voice gentle against the winter air.
But I stay put, the ice a reminder of a past that's always freezing me over, keeping me stuck.
Ice crunches underfoot, and I'm jolted from my thoughts as three figures approach me. The one in the lead has this easy grin plastered on his face, his blonde hair catching the weak winter sun like a halo. Skates slung over one shoulder, he stops in front of me while the other two – one with fiery red hair and the other more subdued, black hair peeking out from under a beanie – flank him.
"Hey there," the blonde says, "I'm Roman." He gestures to his companions, "These are my friends, Sebastian and Lawrence."
I manage what must be the most pathetic excuse for a smile and stay silent, just watching them warily. They're all too familiar with this dance; we've all been here before, new kid on the block, sizing up potential friends or foes.
Roman's not put off by my silence though. "What's your name?" he pushes, leaning in as if sharing some great secret.
"Victor," I mutter, my voice nearly lost to the wind that whips across the pond.
He studies me, head tilted. "You okay? You look kinda down."
I shrug, figuring it's easier than explaining – easier than reliving the disappointment. "It's nothing," I lie.
"Sure doesn't seem like nothing," Roman says, but he lets it slide. "We're taking turns with the skates. Want to go after Seb?"
I glance at the ice, a chill deeper than cold seeping through me. "No, thanks."
"Ah, come on," Roman urges, mistaking my reluctance for inability. "It's not that hard. I could show you how."
"Know how to skate," I admit, then add quickly, "Just don't want to."
"Fair enough." Roman shrugs, his curiosity satisfied for now.
He plops down beside me, and tosses the skates to Lawrence, who's already sitting, waiting. The metal clinks as Lawrence straps them on, a sound that echoes in my chest, a reminder of a time when things were almost good.
"Me and the guys," Roman starts, nudging me with an elbow, "we're from all over. Different homes, different stories." He brushes the snow off his jeans, casual like he's talking about the weather. "We keep in touch, letters mostly and then sometimes we get to see each other at these things. Helps to know someone's got your back, y'know?"
I nod, but don't say anything.
"You could be part of our group. You want in?" he asks, his eyes holding nothing but sincerity in their depths.
I eye him, puzzled. "Why would you want me in your group?"
Roman gives a half-hearted shrug, green eyes steady on mine. "We're all outcasts here, Victor. Just figured you might fit in."
It stings, hearing it so plain, but there's truth twisted up in his words. I remember the family, their promises, the cold finality when they changed their minds. "Was supposed to be adopted once," I confess, voice barely above the wind. "They... they left me behind."
"Adults," Sebastian cuts in, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Can't trust 'em. Never do what they say. That's why we stick together."
Lawrence nods, fiery hair catching the dim sunlight. "Got each other's backs, no matter what."
I look at them, these boys with histories like mine, patched together by broken pieces, and something like hope flickers within me. Maybe I'm not as alone as I thought.
"Alright," I say, the word scraping out like it's been dragged over gravel. "I'm in." I can't help but tack on a stiff, "Thanks," because what else do you say when handed something that looks like friendship?
Roman chuckles and leans back on his palms, the snow making crackling sounds beneath us. "Man, drop the formality. You're with us now."
He stands up suddenly and offers me a hand, all grins and boundless energy. "Come on, let's skate."
I shake my head, pushing his hand away gently. "Nah, go ahead. I'm done with skating. For good."
"Suit yourself," Roman says and there's no pity in his voice, just acceptance.
I watch as Lawrence strips off the skates with deft fingers and then calls to some kid hovering at the edge of the pond. "Hey! You!" He waves the skates in the air. The kid, a scrawny thing all elbows and knees, scuttles over and takes them, his face lighting up like someone flipped a switch.
"Wait, why didn't you—" I start, staring at Lawrence who should be carving up the ice, not standing here with a loser like me on the sideline.
"Victor," he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder, " it's no big deal. You're part of the crew now. We stick together, remember?"
His hazel eyes are serious, and it hits me hard. These guys, they mean it. All for one, one for all, or however that saying goes.
"Thanks," I mumble again, this time meaning it. It's strange, feeling like maybe I've got something worth holding onto. Maybe even worth thawing for.