9. Foster
9
FOSTER
I arrived home twelve minutes after leaving Archer House, and I d barely killed the truck engine before the front door came flying open.
Out dashed my sister, Breydan. She was eleven, and the tomboy of the family. With her pale blond hair in a high ponytail, she wore her soccer uniform, cleats, and knee-high socks with a hefty gym bag slung over her shoulder.
Behind her came a scowling Amy, her light hair shoulder-length and flat ironed; she hooked a dainty purse strap over one shoulder so she could carry a Stanley in one hand and her cell phone in the other.
I d just climbed from my truck and shut the door when four-year-old Little appeared from inside, darting past Amy and Brey so she could streak toward me, yelling, Foster! You re home!
Hey, hey, I greeted with a big smile as I jogged around the hood to meet her on the sidewalk. Sweeping her up into my arms, I cuddled my face into hers and laughed when she screamed in delight from being tickled by the scruff on my jaw.
Cupping my cheeks in her hands, she pulled my attention to her eyes, however, and grew serious. You weren t here for breakfast.
I know. Pressing my forehead to hers, I waggled my brows to be silly. I stayed with a friend last night.
Weren t you wearing that yesterday ? Amy asked in disgust as she sauntered by, heading toward my mom s Subaru while Brey reached the passenger side of my truck and swung open the back door so she could toss her bag inside.
Yep. And I haven t taken a shower yet today either, I called after the fifteen-year-old with widening eyes, just to gross her out more. Want to take a big whiff?
Eww. She wrinkled her nose and climbed into the Outback, slamming the door.
Chuckling, I turned as my mom rushed from the house, carrying Little s backpack and her own purse. Thank you so much for doing this again, Foster, she gushed as she bustled toward me. I m sorry we had to drag you from whatever you were doing.
It s all good. I apologize for running late, I countered, tipping my face down for a kiss on my cheek when she reached me.
Her dry lips touched my skin only briefly before she straightened and eyed me with concern. Everything okay?
My mother. I swear, I had no idea how the woman had been able to birth six children, and she always somehow knew when something was bothering every single one of us.
Shaking my head to reassure her, I answered, Yeah. I guess some girl from Haverick was in a car accident last night and some of my crew knew her, so they re pretty shaken up.
Oh no. That poor child. Mom touched my cheek briefly. Did you know her too?
With another shake of my head, I answered, I—not really. I d heard of her, but we d never actually met.
I ll have to make some cookies for her family. But for now… She glanced at Amy who was impatiently waiting in the car. I guess we better go.
Except when she reached for her youngest, saying, Come on, Little. Time to help Mama and Amy hunt for the perfect dress, the four-year-old latched her arms around my neck and shook her head.
I wanna go with Foster.
Mom sent me a weary glance, telling me she didn t want to argue with the child, so I set a hand on Little s back and answered, That s fine. She can come with us.
Thanks. Mom exhaled in relief as she handed Little s bag over. I ve got snacks and juice and a coloring book in there for her.
Thanks. Glancing past her toward the house, I asked, What about Reed?
He wanted to stay home and finish his book, Brey answered impatiently from the front passenger seat of my truck before she slammed the door, telling me it was time to go.
Mom lifted her brows and said, Have fun with that.
I merely laughed and concentrated on getting Little belted into her booster seat I had set up for her in the back.
I d been a month shy of turning sixteen when she d been born. She d come along seven years after Hayes had been gone, and not a day went by that I wasn t thankful for the Shirley Temple-looking nugget of joy. She d been like a little ray of sunshine after years of darkness for our family.
So who re we playing today? I asked Brey as soon as I was behind the wheel and restarting the engine.
The Bear Cubs, she answered impatiently before asking, Can you hurry? Coach ll bench me if I m late, and I m supposed to start today.
Really? Eyebrows shooting up in mock shock as I pulled us away from the curb, I said, Well, in that case...
I gunned the engine, just to make her happy.
From the back, Little squealed in joy and lifted her hands as if she was on a roller coaster, and the eleven-year-old in the passenger seat finally gifted me with her first smile of the day.
Don t the Bear Cubs have that bully who pushed you down and called you a horse face the last time you played them?
Her jaw tightened as she stared straight ahead. Yes, they do.
You ready to take her down in this game? I asked.
Reaching up to tighten her ponytail, Brey nodded with fire in her eyes. Oh, yeah.
That s my girl, I congratulated her with a grin and held out a fist for her to bump.
While from the back, Little asked, What s a horse face?
It s a mean thing you call someone when you think they re ugly.
Little gasped. But Brey ain t ugly.
I know , I said with a nod. That girl was a liar and mean. Can you believe there are actually people like that in the world?
It makes no sense, Little agreed with a disappointed shake of the head, repeating a quote our mom liked to use.
With a snicker, I glanced across the cab of the truck toward Brey, who glanced back. And together, the two of us broke out laughing.
* * *
So my middle sister was much happier and calmer by the time we made it to her soccer tournament.
And even though everyone else had already arrived by the time we got there, she was still a couple of minutes early.
Jogging off to meet up with her team, she waved goodbye, and I called, Good luck, before I turned my attention to Little.
Alright, kiddo. Looks like it s just you and me now. Want to ride on my shoulders?
Yeah!
That was one of her favorite pastimes, and I knew there would be no bleacher for us to sit on for the hour-or-so-long game, so I hoisted her up, and off we went to find a place to stand with the rest of the spectators.
If I d had enough foresight, I would ve brought some camping chairs like most of the other parents had. But we made do.
Little wanted down about as soon as we posted ourselves along the sidelines so she could run amok, which gave my neck and shoulders a break, but it didn t take long for her to come racing back to me, wanting a hot dog.
The game had just started and Brey had the ball, so I set a hand on Little s head until the play was over.
Then I cheered my support before crouching down to Little s level and unzipping the top of her unicorn backpack to fish inside. How about we see what Mom packed in your bag?
But Little wasn t interested in grapes or Cheez-Its. Pointing at a boy sitting in his own miniature fold-out chair and snarfing down a hot dog, she persisted, I want a hot dog.
My stomach growled as I glanced over. That hot dog looked mighty good, and I hadn t eaten yet today.
Alright, I complied, reaching for my wallet. I think I have some cash.
So we set about looking for the concession stand that had to be out here somewhere until we found a couple of folding tables set off to the side of the field where people were selling refreshments. Little and I made our way to the end of the line to wait our turn.
I kept myself busy, trying to watch Brey s game and keep an eye on Little; I had no idea who was standing in front of me until the woman turned my way with a three-year-old on one hip and a couple of bottles of water in the other hand, saying, Babe, can you hold this while—Oh my God! Foster.
I reared back, just as startled and horrified to see her. Mrs. Crowder. Hey .
We blinked at each other for a really long, awkward moment before I glanced at her full arms and offered, Here. Do you need me to…?
What? Oh, no. No. She pulled back, refusing my help. Thanks, but my husband should be around here somewhere.
We both glanced around for him until she spotted him first, a dozen feet away talking to a couple of other soccer dads. Robbie! she snapped sharply. A little help , please.
He glanced over irritably, and when he saw how full her arms were, he rolled his eyes but peeled himself away from his group to amble over. As we waited for him to reach us, Mrs. Crowder s gaze jerked to me so she could force a tense smile. So how have you been?
Good. Good. I nodded readily, wishing I could be anywhere else on the planet but here. Hell, I d even leave the planet if I could.
We all saw your big game on the television. Congratulations on the national championships. You did amazing. When she nudged my arm, a shock of anxiety raced through me.
Thanks, I said, sending her a tight smile right back.
Emma Crowder was about nine years older than me and had gotten pregnant straight out of twelfth grade with her high school sweetheart, Robbie. They d married young, and now their daughter, Kacey, was Brey s best friend, plus soccer teammate.
Yeah, I knew way more about Mrs. Crowder than I wanted to. Like what she looked like naked.
I swear to God, she d been divorced when we d hooked up. My parents had discussed it right in front of me at the supper table. Kacey had come over to our house to cry on Brey s shoulder over the whole ordeal. Their marriage was done, and Robbie had been moved out for three full months before I d gone over there to pick Brey up from Kacey s one night, where her mom had wept all over me, showing me the signed papers.
She d been a totally and completely divorced mother of two, and I d been her pick-me-up rebound.
Not two days after that, she d texted, telling me her ex wanted to try again. And now, here we were, eight months later, with them back together and me…not liking any of this situation at all.
I really, really wished I d had the foresight to realize how incredibly uncomfortable future encounters with her would be from there on out.
Because as her husband loped over, my comfort level dropped into the negatives.
Sorry about that, he told her before noticing me and grinning big. Foster! Hey, man, you killed it in that championship game.
Yeah? Thanks. I m so sorry I slept with your wife.
As he stuck around to talk football with me, I ordered Little and myself both a hot dog each, and Emma remained right beside him in my peripheral vision. I risked a single glance her way once and had to guess that she d never mentioned our one-night stand to Robbie because he certainly wasn t acting as if I d ever had sex with her.
After paying for my food, I honestly tried to shake them off, pointing toward the field and telling them I wanted to watch Brey s game, but Robbie only followed me to the sidelines and kept talking.
As if we were best friends.
So we hung out for the rest of the tournament, chitchatting while Little raced around my legs with the Crowder boy, Noah, and Emma stood just on the other side of her husband, three feet away.
When Little dropped most of her hot dog onto the ground, I gave her the rest of mine, starving myself some more. And the misery continued even after the game ended because Brey begged to go out for ice cream with the rest of the team to celebrate.
I don t know, Brey. I winced, hoping she d give up and have some mercy on me. I gotta clock into work at three.
Plus my wallet was running thin.
Please, please, please, she begged,
With a groan, I threw my head back and muttered, Fine, which made both girls abundantly happy.
Brey chattered full bore about her game as we walked back toward my truck. And as I looked around, watching for cars, I saw her again.
The girl from the roof.
Holy shit.
When an SUV passed in front of me, blocking my view, I lifted up higher to see her again, but once the car was gone, the girl was too.
What? Brey demanded curiously, while Little slapped a hand over her mouth before announcing, Foster said the S-word.
Did you just… I pointed in the direction that I d seen Roof Girl. Then, glancing at Brey, I asked, Did you just see a girl over there? My age with red-brown hair that s kind of long with wavy curls.
Red-brown? Brey wrinkled her nose. You mean, auburn ?
Whatever! Did you see her?
No. Who is she?
I don t know, I mumbled, shaking my head and then scratching it. I just—I feel as if I keep seeing her everywhere.
Like a stalker? Brey asked in excitement, and she started to glance around with more interest.
I hissed out an impatient breath. She s not a stalker.
The eleven-year-old merely sent me a look. Well, you are kind of famous in Westport, being on television all the time. It s not completely impossible.
And Little asked, What s a stalker?
* * *
The trip to the ice cream parlor was just as awful as I feared it might be. Like a heat-seeking missile, Robbie Crowder found me so he could strike up another conversation, and his wife wouldn t stop sending us worried glances as if she feared I was going to tell him everything.
My head hurt and I just wanted to go home. And sleep. Or eat. Fueled by only half a hot dog and a chocolate fudge ice cream cone, I told my sisters it was time to leave fifteen minutes in, which upset them, and neither would talk to me the entire way home.
But I barely had twenty minutes to shower and change before I had to leave for work. And Amy wanted me to pause and watch her model her new dress before I could shower.
At work, I snuck pieces of pizza from the salad bar between my deliveries, and eight hours later, I felt dead on my feet when I clocked out again.
The house was quiet and dark when I parked at the curb, so I used the sliding glass door entrance in the back that led straight into my room so I didn t wake anyone. The area used to be a play den, but when additional children had come along, it had been converted into my bedroom.
I probably should ve moved out a couple of years ago to give the family more space, but they seemed to need me around to help out with the kids since Dad worked for the railroad and was gone a lot. We never knew when he d make it home.
Another perk of having a transformed bedroom was that it had its own three-quarter bath attached to it. Glad I didn t have to head out into the hall and wake anyone, I popped into the bathroom to brush my teeth and finish my nightly routine before I flipped off the light and collapsed on my bed, exhausted.
But today had been…a bit too much for me, to be honest.
I had no idea how any of my friends were faring or if the girl who d been in the car accident had even survived the day.
I hated having to spend so much time with the Crowders, and I seriously hoped my past with Emma never did anything to harm their marriage going forward.
And I really wished I knew where the girl from last night had gone. Was she still lost and confused? Scared? Alone?
I felt as if I should at least go look for her, but I honestly had no idea where to even start, unless I wanted to drive back to Javonte s at nearly midnight and walk the beach.
Turning onto my side, I punched at my pillow to beat it into shape and huffed out a breath. I wasn t going to get any sleep unless I at least checked the sand for her one more time.
But I also really didn t want to get out of bed.
With a groan, I flung my sheets off and sat up just as a voice in the hallway shouted, Hello? Can anyone hear me? Is anyone there?
Scowling in confusion, I surged to my feet, knowing that voice did not belong to anyone in my family.
What the hell?
I charged toward the door and yanked it open.
In the hallway, a night-light was plugged into the wall to help people see through the dark during nighttime trips to the bathroom. And standing right in front of it was a girl with long wavy auburn hair, wearing a fashionable jumper.
Not at all expecting to see her in my family s home, I pulled back in alarm.
What the fuck are you doing here?