Thirty

Jim lets me skip school the next day because I need to get checked out by the doctor and because the police want to talk to me and Kevin about everything that happened with my father. Everything that ever happened. Even the stuff before That Day.

And I guess Kevin told them everything, too, because Jim’s eyes were red when they came out of the meeting and it was a while before Kevin would even look straight at me.

Ms. DeSilva is waiting for us at the house when we get there. Kevin goes right up to our room and Jim tells me to give him space, so I curl up on the couch with my bag of peas and just kind of let myself drift off.

Every once in a while, some bit of Jim and Ms. DeSilva’s conversation floats over to me. I hear terms like “preponderance of evidence,” which has something to do with whether they think my father is likely to hit me or Jordan again, and she talks about a bunch of petitions she’s filed to keep him away from both of us.

I try to ignore them as much as possible, but when she starts talking about termination of parental rights, I can’t help but listen.

I guess that means more petitions, because she says Jordan is in foster care and a ward of the court until they can find his mom, but they don’t want that to happen with me so they have to move quickly.

I’ve already decided that if they force me to go back to the old house or anywhere with my father, I’m going to tell Sarah I’ll leave with her. We’ll go to Finland, or California, or wherever she wants.

Their muted voices mumble on for a while, and then they both come over to the couch.

I sit up and bite the inside of my lip. I hate this crap.

Ms. DeSilva sits on the edge of the coffee table, and I have to stifle a laugh because Jim always gets ticked when Kevin sits there.

“It’s good to see some color in your cheeks,” she says, which sounds positive, but I hold my breath anyhow because I wish they’d just take care of all this legal stuff and leave me out of it.

“I know you’ve had a hard couple of days, but there’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about before I file these papers tomorrow,” she says.

I look at Jim and he smiles a little, but this is still bugging me out.

Jim takes a deep breath and says, “Yeah, um. So, one of the petitions. I mean we have to … ” He looks at Ms. DeSilva to help him out.

“Gordie, Jim would like to petition to formally adopt you.”

Jim looks at me long enough that I’m scared he’s going to change his mind. “Yeah,” he says, and his voice breaks. He clears his throat. “I mean, yes. If that’s what Gordie wants.”

The words I want to say are sticky in my brain, trapped inside me. I think I’m going to be sick if I don’t get them out once and for all.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

Jim leans over and rests his hand on my hair. It feels good. Not in the same way as when Sarah does it, but nice anyhow.

“I guess I deserved that,” he says with a sigh. “But yeah, kid. If you’ll have me, I’d like you to stay.”

I look at him in disbelief. I think it’s the first time anyone aside from Sarah has chosen to be with me. I mean, since Kevin is stuck with me as his brother and all.

“I’d like that,” I say. My voice has holes in it, though. It’s like it can’t contain everything I’m feeling, and I worry they won’t understand this is what I want almost more than anything.

Ms. DeSilva leans over and hugs me. I think I should try to figure out what this all means, but of course there’s one more question knocking around my head.

“What happens now? I mean, is he back at the house? I don’t have to go back there, right?”

“No, Gordie, I already have court approval for you to stay here,” she tells me. “And what happens now is that I’ve got to go back to my office and tell my assistant I need her to work late with me tonight on all of this.” She points to the stack of papers on the table. “We’ll need to have a meeting with a mediator, and I’ll let Jim know when that is. You don’t need to worry about any of it, okay, Gordie?”

You’d think she’d know by now that I’m really not good at not worrying about things.

“Where’s my father?” I ask, more directly. It isn’t like I really care, but not knowing is making me nuts.

She leans forward and I can tell she’s trying not to watch my hand shaking on my knee. “He’s in jail, Gordie. Between what you and Kevin told us, and the bruises the doctors documented on you and Jordan, not to mention how he acted at the house, there’s enough evidence to charge him with assault and child endangerment. And given how he disappeared, before, they’re considering him a flight risk. It’s up to the court to decide how long he’s going to be in prison. I think we all agree that we don’t want you to have to testify at a trial, so I’m going to try to get this all resolved as soon as possible.”

That really isn’t the answer I want to hear.

But I guess it’s a start.

I jump when the doorbell rings. For a minute I think I’m back at the old house and I can’t catch my breath, but then I hear Jim’s voice and it all comes back to me.

Sarah comes flying into the room and hugs me. She feels solid and real and I don’t want to let go. I close my eyes and burrow my face into her neck. She smells like lilacs and warmth and everything good.

“Easy there, big boy,” Kevin says from the kitchen doorway. I turn my head just far enough to glare at him. He looks tired, but I guess I’d rather have him giving me a hard time than shutting down.

Jim nudges him out of the room and down the hall.

Sarah and I pull apart and she reaches into her bag.

“I don’t know if you still need these,” she says, holding a folder out to me. “I was going crazy worrying about you and had to do something.”

When I open it, I see the photos she took in the broom closet.

“Thanks,” I say. I don’t know if I still need them either, and I don’t really want to think about her looking at them, so I start to close the folder, but she puts a hand out and stops me.

“There are other pictures in there too,” she says. “I thought you might want them.”

I flip quickly past the photos of my bruised skin and land on a couple of me playing goal in summer league last year. Also, one I didn’t know she took of me that day when we were working on our Moby Dick assignment. That one I pull out.

I’m lying on top of the wooden train, the snowy sun behind me and a faraway look in my eyes.

“I’m going to submit that one for the school athlete calendar,” she says. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

I’m about to say no, that I don’t want to be in the stupid calendar and somehow this picture is … I don’t know … private. But the look on her face tells me she really wants this, and I don’t want to disappoint her.

“I guess,” I say.

It’s the right answer, because she moves over and hugs me again.

“I’m really proud of you,” she whispers in my ear.

I want to thank her, or kiss her, or something. I want to keep her here and I want to learn how to be the person she thinks I am.

I wonder if it’s always like this. If really liking someone means that you just want more and more all the time. If no amount of kissing is ever enough, and if no matter how much time you get with them, you always want more.

I think of asking her, because it seems she’d know the answer. But all I can do is hold her too tight and listen to the refrain in my head saying, Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.