I knew I didn't know everything, but in my childish arrogance I thought I knew everything I needed to know. So there I was sitting in my favorite spot as always. Right back in the corner with a full view of everything that was taking place in their offices. Another reason I liked this spot was because of a curious acoustic effect. If I rested the side of my head against the hollow metal support in the wall, I could hear what was taking place in the department heads office. You had to get it just right for the best effect. Press the part of your skull right behind the right ear against the metal. At first it was hard to decipher the noises that were transmitted. I'd get the odd word. A sense of the tones of those speaking. It didn't take me long to learn how to listen correctly.
I went to Child Services at least once a week. Sometimes they'd have me there 2 or 3 times. Often the worried foster carers would bring me there themselves. Freaked out by the weird child I was. Once I'd spotted the Indian woman, I saw her nearly every time I was there. After a few visits I began to listen in to what was going on in the office. Between her and whoever else was in there at the time. I'll be honest, I didn't learn a whole lot about her. Not even what her normal voice sounded like. She'd come in and wait, as far away from me as possible it felt like. I suppose what first drew my attention to her was the way she moved. Clearer when she was walking away from you, and I mostly only saw her back as she left. She moved with a liquid grace. A slow flowing fluid. Like a panther. Perfectly balanced. Using the minimum amount of effort required.
After I'd seen her more than a dozen times and listened in to those private conversations, I had a broad outline of what was going on with her and the department. To me she was the only mildly interesting thing there. Then one day, shortly after a harrowing Christmas for the latest poor bastards who'd agreed to foster me, I found myself facing a veritable gaggle of concerned staff. Is three a gaggle? It'll do for now. They did all the right things. Two of them crouching down so they were at my level. Not talking down to me as they talked down to me. They were very worried and concerned about me. I wasn't getting any real schooling. I'd terrified or intimidated at least six foster families. I just stared at them. Until their gazes broke and they had to look away. They were rapidly running out of options. The ones they had left weren't nice. I have to assume they thought I gave a shit about nice.
The two women crouched down. The one guy standing behind them. His arms at his side. Hands flexing as his complete attention was on me. He was there to protect the women. They thought I might turn violent again. I'd done it once to a man. Sent him to the ER with a badly smashed nose. The one on my left put her hand on my knee. Unaware I hadn't been listening to anything they said. I looked down at her hand. I might have glared. She removed it anyway. The door behind them opened and the interesting woman exited. Her visit fruitless yet again. A man followed her out. With an expression which said he was glad to see the back of her. Not looking forward to the lady being back tomorrow. She was halfway to the exit before the soothing tones of one of the women caught my attention again.
"You've been very brave since... the accident. I know it's scary going into a new home with strangers, but if you show the same courage you did before I'm sure..."
My bitter laughter cut her off. She looked shocked. I hadn't so much as smiled since they'd found me on that mountain trail.
"Hey! Pocahontas?" I yelled out, much to the concern of the caring professionals. The woman turned round. Looked at me. I saw the fire in her eyes. I saw the tussle she was having with her tongue, unable to rebuke me as she wished in front of these people. "I'm not brave. I'm not courageous. She is. She comes in here everyday. And everyday you knock her down. You patronize and belittle her. You use big words and arcane concepts to illustrate your superiority." I looked back at the Indian woman. "You Google what they say don't you? You decode the things they try to confuse you with, then you come back to try all over again. That's bravery. That's courage. because no matter how much you bruise and abuse her with your oh so superior intellect and knowledge, she never gives up fighting."
The fire was still burning. The flickering flames looked me over. Examined me down to the hairs on my head. She'd taken an instant dislike to me, now she was reassessing.
"Thanks kid. If I ever need a good reference I'll call ya."
My emotionless gaze turned back to the Child Services staff.
"What about her? Why can't she foster me? All she wants is a chance."
They looked shocked. Exchanged glances. A couple of them gave a small shake of their heads. They weren't sure though.
"Like I said kid, thanks for the testimonial. But you're the wrong sex and what you just said was pretty racist. I don't think we'd get along to well."
"I'm really sorry lady. I wanted to attract your attention. That was the only way I could think of on the spur of the moment. I apologize for the offence. I did know better, there's no excuse for my rudeness. Especially as my mom and I spent a few months with the Gitxsan in British Columbia a couple of years ago."
There was a bit of a stir. A sharp intake of breath. Not only had I said I was sorry for something, I'd also sounded sincere instead of sarcastic. Not something the child services people had seen in me before. The woman held up a hand. I think there was some sympathy in her look. At the very least understanding. In time I think she might even have considered forgiving me. Looking back, I know I wanted her forgiveness.
"Try not to do it again kid. Maybe I'll see you around here again sometime."
My next words were a complete gamble.
"So you don't think you can handle me then. Others have tried and failed, so I can't blame you. They've only ever given you short term and respite placements. I don't tend to stay anywhere very long. Couple of weeks, and with my track record I'll be back here."
Her eyes narrowed. I'd challenged her. Would she accept the challenge? She wanted to, but there was something really powerful preventing her. Meanwhile things were being discussed in whispers.
"How old are you?" She asked.
"Twelve." I replied.
"You sure? You come across as being about 30. That's way too old for me to have any interest. You've got balls kid." The Indian lady gave a guilty glance towards the conclave. They were too busy to notice her slip. "That's the main problem for me. I only take girls, for personal reasons." That was the first time she'd evaded my piercing stare.
"Ms Goodbody, could we have a word with you please?"
So that was her name, the first one I bothered to retain. Every other person I'd encountered, and been introduced to, was a big fat zero as far as I was concerned. I had no idea what anyone at this place was called. They wore name badges I never read. The badges had passed me on to foster carers I'd purposely forgotten the moment I met them. I didn't know it then, but this was my first step towards learning how to behave like a human being again. It was a long and bumpy road.
It appeared the authorities responsible for my protection were prepared to examine this option. Placing me with Ms Goodbody would get me out of their hair for a few days at least. It would also keep her occupied and away from them. She needed some persuading though. While one of them took her off to another office, the other 3 discussed this course of action. Where I could listen to them. The discussion was prolonged. Several objections were raised. The boss lady had the final say. To her it was a risk worth taking, on balance.
I'm absolutely certain they blackmailed and pressurized her into accepting me in the short to medium term. One thing was for sure, Ms Goodbody was not happy about this. Obviously they told her this was a route to becoming a full time foster carer. Girls were far more popular than boys, at my age at least. I know they dangled a future prospect before her. Do this for us and we will repay you. But in the small print they did all they could to ensure they would be able to weasel out of their side somehow. The upshot was the woman reluctantly agreed to offer me a home with her. In the short to medium term. With no definition of what that actually meant. They'd make it up later.
Nothing they ever did was quick. I spent several more days there in my small impersonal room. Days when they worked on her and to a much lesser extent me. It was almost a week later she turned up to collect me. Ms Goodbody did not look overjoyed at the prospect of having me stay with her. I was outside waiting when she arrived. I watched her climbing out of her battered Cherokee Jeep, clutching my limited luggage. I'm going to attempt to describe her, knowing that this will only give a small taste of the person. Picture Stacy Ferguson out of The Black Eyed Peas. Only taller, darker and threatening you with a big sharp knife. That'll give you a flavor. After a swift conversation with the department head she opened the back door for me to throw my bags in. Then I climbed up beside her, before we drove off.
She hadn't spoken to me yet, beyond a casual hello. I wasn't going to break the silence. It would ruin my carefully cultivated man of few words image. So we drove on in silence for quite some time. Her snatching brief disinterested peeps at me. It was only as she turned into the cul de sac where she lived, that Crystal Goodbody uttered the first words of what I shall refer to now as our relationship.
"Why did you pick me kid?"
"You can call me Luke if you like." I responded.
That produced a half smile of acknowledgement.
"Okay. Luke. Why did you pick me?"
I looked up at her beside me, as the vehicle came to a halt. Our eyes met.
"Mainly because you're a bit like me. You've got walls in your eyes. Walls are either there to keep things out or to keep things in. With me it's both. I want to find out what your walls are for."
She shook her head as she opened her door.
"Holy shit. You are one creepy little son of a bitch."
"I know. You're not really scared of me though. That's the other reason why I picked you."