She glanced to Travis, whose face was etched in irritation, eyes narrowing on the cell at her ear as if it were a snake trying to bite her. She tried to smile to put him at ease, but his face only tensed farther.
That the foster care worker?he mouthed, then jutted his chin toward the phone. Could he tell the call was upsetting her?
She nodded and returned her attention to Anita again.
“I can drive him to his meeting on Monday,” Skylar said cheerily. Too cheerily? Would Anita hear through her attempts to sound bright and chipper? She’d already had Judy-Lynn clear her afternoon patients for Brandon’s PT appointment. If this was what it took to convince Anita that Brandon was in a good place, she’d do it. “I know I’m not a physician, but I’m far more equipped to make sure he complies with follow-up care than his next home, should they not have a medical background.”
Travis’s brow furrowed farther. He let go of her hand, the back of his knuckles brushing her arm, grounding her in the moment, like a guitar string twisting tight with tension.
“I’d hate to have Brandon’s world thrown upside down again for nothing. I wanted to tell you, he confided in me the other day about the coaches at his schools. They’ve been refusing to let him play.”
“I see no record of an incident report in his file,” Anita replied.
“Well no, he just mentioned it to me. It violates his rights. If he stays here, I can make sure the school lets him try out and gives him a fair shake. It’s good for him out here, too.”
“If what he told you is true—”
“Why would he lie? He’s not a troublemaker, Anita. He’s just hurting, ready to lash out and keep people at arm’s length because he’s been burned too many times. I want to give him a chance.” A chance I never had.
Silence ensued.
“You can’t get attached to every kid who comes through your door, Skylar,” Anita finally replied, resignation heavy in her voice, using her given name. Travis’s warm, reassuring hand went from those tiny caresses to a palm on her shoulder, as if willing from her what was being discussed.
Flustered, Skylar’s skin buzzed at the point of contact, how his hand caressed down her arm to capture her fingers now perched at her hip, how his fingers mingled with them, grounding her. How blasted natural the sensation felt!
“It’ll break your heart sooner than you think. This is only your first placement.” Anita’s cold words dumped on her ears, and the buzzing of her skin, her excitement to see Travis, and the harsh reality the foster care worker seemed intent to lay upon her shoulders was too much.
“Surely he’s low priority,” Skylar argued. “You’ve seen the police reports, you know that truck accident wasn’t my fault. Can you imagine being fourteen and already on your third high school? How is he ever going to pursue his dreams?”
Anita sighed. “Dreams? A kid with his track record will be a success if he isn’t incarcerated by age twenty. Those are the stats.”
“Well, why don’t we just lock him up now and throw away the key, save ourselves the trouble,” Skylar scoffed, her sarcasm finally escaping her filter.
Travis squeezed her hand again. Her eyes cut up to his angrily.
His jaw muscles bulged where they clenched.
God, this pissed her off. It wasn’t fair. And it was clear from the confusion pleating Travis’s brow as well as how his jaw pumped beneath the ears that while he didn’t know Brandon’s full story, he could sense she was on the defensive and didn’t like it a bit.
She squeezed his hand in return. He flexed his fingers suddenly, as if it had hurt. But if she ran her mouth about how Anita was doing a fine job of killing Brandon’s dreams for him with an attitude like hers, she’d find herself out of a foster mom job. She swallowed.
“Come on, Anita. You can’t paint him as a felon when he’s only a kid. How is he supposed to make friends? Get involved with hobbies? Put down roots? Do the things normal kids do? Hell—Heck”—she corrected herself; dammit, she mouthed—“how’s he supposed to even learn anything in class? Have a decent shot at going to college?”
Anita sighed again, and Skylar could imagine her removing her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose. But none of it made sense. If they wanted these kids to thrive, why keep throwing them into upheaval?
“This system is far from perfect,” Anita said quietly. “Sometimes these decisions are out of my hands.” A harsh exhale followed. “My higher-ups don’t like that you’re single and are grasping at straws. I don’t like it any better than you do. It never gets easier. I appreciate your fervor, and I don’t mean to sound unsupportive.” Skylar felt a twinge of sympathy for Anita, too, sandwiched between the kids and the state regs. “I wish all families could pour the same enthusiasm into each foster kid, and I have no doubt your home is a much more wholesome place. But at the end of the day, I have to pick my battles with my boss… I’ll see Brandon at his meeting. We’ll go from there.”
Skylar tapped the End Call button and dropped the phone; she couldn’t even bring herself to say a cordial goodbye. Slid her phone into the pocket again and closed her eyes to grasp at calm.
“You look angry,” Travis muttered.
She forced a smile. “So do you.” She sighed.
“Not really liking that someone’s putting you on edge. What was that about?”
She tried to play it off, to laugh, but the game face wouldn’t come. “I’m fine. Sorry. How was your call shift?”
He shook his head, chuckling wryly, and he set the bin down on the gravel and squeezed both her hands this time. Reeling her to his chest, he wrapped his arms around her. He was sweating from the afternoon heat, his shirt damp as it hugged his pecs.