Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Malcolm
The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, turning everything a dull shade of gold as I stepped outside.
The air was cool, the ground still damp from last night’s rain.
Most of the younger kids were inside, leaving the backyard quieter than usual.
I spotted Summer sitting by the fence, chewing gum, her head tilted back as she stared at the sky like it had all the answers to whatever was on her mind.
She didn’t notice me at first, too caught up in whatever she was thinking.
I hesitated for a second, then walked over and dropped down next to her. She barely reacted, just glanced at me out of the corner of her eye before blowing a bubble and popping it loudly.
“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” I said, stretching my legs out.
She sighed dramatically. “I was, actually. Deep, intellectual thoughts.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Like, who decided that giraffes should have long necks? Were they just regular horses at first? And then one of them woke up one day and was like, ‘You know what? I wanna reach the top of that tree.’”
I huffed out a short laugh. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”
“Evolution, Malcolm. It’s serious business.”
I shook my head. “You’re an idiot.”
She grinned. “And yet, you willingly sat next to me.”
I didn’t argue with that.
For a few minutes, we sat in comfortable silence, listening to the faint sounds of the foster home behind us.
The distant hum of voices, a door creaking open, the occasional yell of one of the younger kids.
The wind rustled the trees, and Summer absently picked at the grass beside her.
It felt… easy, sitting here like this. Like we weren’t just two kids stuck in a place we didn’t belong.
Then, casually, I said, “So, I almost got stabbed last night.”
Summer choked on her gum. She turned to me so fast I thought her neck might snap. “What?!”
I smirked. “Relax. It wasn’t that serious.”
She smacked my arm. “Don’t say stuff like that so casually! What happened?”
I shrugged. “Some guys were trying to carjack an old couple in the parking lot. I stopped them.”
Her eyes widened. “You—what?”
“They had a crowbar, but I had a pipe.” I grinned slightly. “Turns out I was scarier.”
She groaned, dropping her head in her hands. “Malcolm, that is not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“No, it’s not!” She pointed a finger at me. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”
“I didn’t.”
She huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re impossible.”
I smirked. “I know.”
She rolled her eyes but still looked at me, studying me like she was trying to figure something out. “So… the old couple. They were okay?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back on my hands. “They were grateful. The woman almost cried. They called the cops, and everything got sorted out.”
“That’s good,” she said, relaxing a little. “Still reckless, though.”
I didn’t argue because she wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t thought about it when I ran toward them. I just… acted.
I let a few more seconds pass before saying, “Oh, and they wanna adopt me.”
I said it casually, like it was just another part of the story, like it wasn’t the biggest thing that had ever happened to me.
Summer, who had just popped another bubble, froze mid-chew.
I watched as her fingers tensed against the grass, her whole body stiff for just a second before she forced a laugh. “Wait, what?”
I glanced at her. “The couple. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair. They said they’ve always wanted a son. So, they talked to my caseworker.”
She blinked at me. “And you’re just—what? Dropping this on me like it’s no big deal?”
I shrugged. “I mean, it probably won’t happen. It’s not like I’m lucky with this kind of thing.”
She stared at me for a second longer, then scoffed. “Wow. And here I thought you were just a troublemaker. Turns out you’re a hero in disguise.”
There it was. The joke, the easy sarcasm she always used to dodge things. But when I looked at her closely, her usual bright energy was missing.
I smirked, leaning back. “Relax, it’s not like I’m leaving tomorrow. Like I said, it probably won’t happen.”
“Right,” she said quickly, brushing off something invisible from her jeans. “Good. Because I don’t need you getting all fancy and forgetting about us common folks.”
I huffed a short laugh. “Fancy?”
She nodded seriously. “Oh yeah. Give it a few weeks and you’ll be sipping expensive coffee, wearing sweaters tied around your shoulders, saying things like ‘Ah, yes, Father, the stock market is quite unpredictable this season.’”
I snorted. “I don’t even know what half of that means.”
She smirked. “See? You’re already behind. Rich people don’t stand a chance if you don’t get with the program.”
I shook my head, but something about her tone—something just slightly off—made me pause. I watched her, waiting for her to crack a real smile, for her usual playful teasing to feel normal. But it didn’t. It felt like she was forcing it, like she was hiding something.
I should have pushed. Should have said something. But instead, I just exhaled slowly and muttered, “Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
She glanced at me briefly, and for the first time since I met her, I thought she might actually look uncertain.
But just as quickly, she flashed another easy grin. “Good. Because someone needs to remind you that you’re not as cool as you think you are.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
She blew another bubble and popped it loudly before leaning her head back again, staring at the sky. I didn’t say anything else, just sat there beside her, feeling the weight of something neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
Because for the first time in a long time, something was changing. And neither of us knew what to do about it.