"Jude!" I heard could slightly her Momma calling from downstairs. I set headphones around my neck and called back. "There's a guest down here we want you to meet." I groaned, taking off my headphones, and paused my game setting my controller on my bed. After Jesus left to attend college, I had the freedom to move everything around and add whatever I wanted in the room, which included a new flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Although being alone in the house had its privileges, it was something I had not gotten used to. Sure, everyone came to visit once and awhile, but the halls were mostly quiet and talking to moms was not the most exciting thing in the world.
I made his way down the stairs quickly, almost making a hop in each step. As I made my way to the platform something caught my eye and I stopped before reaching the bottom floor. There was a boy. He looked around my age but taller, and his blonde hair was gelled up and swooped into a quiff. He carried a bag that slung over his shoulder that looked heavy enough to make him slouch to the side. His facial expression and the look in his eyes was something I recognized and I instantly knew what was going on. "Jude, honey, this is Connor. He's going to be staying with us for a while," Mom said, placing a hand comfortingly on Connor's shoulder. I didn't know what to say, so I said what I was thinking.
"He's a foster kid," I said bluntly. There was an awkward pause. I knew what I said sounded harsh, but it was true and moms knew I wasn't trying to offend anyone. "Can you show him into Brandon's room," Lena directed. "Brandon's old room," Stef stated softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. There was more silence, but I nodded gesturing Connor to follow me. He hesitated before climbing up the stairs. I took the familiar route to Brandon room, the once poster plastered walls were barren; the only thing of Brandon's that remained was his piano that sat at the window.
"Wow," Connor looked around at the room before his eyes landed on the piano, "Do you play?" Jude shook his head before answering. "No, it was brother's. He was the best and still is." Jude smiled at the thought and continued. "It's a great foster home. The most laid back one I've ever lived in-" I was cut off but Connor's voice.
"I thought you were adopted. Or at least that's what Lena told me," Connor looked at me with a questioning look. "I was but I've had my fair share of foster homes," I answered then letting out a quick sigh. "I should let you get settled. Nice to meet you," I smiled before closing the door. As soon as the door closed, I marched my way down to the kitchen to find moms making dinner.
"When did you renew your foster license?" I asked as I stepped into the kitchen.
They instantly stopped what they were doing and looked at me, "Well, hun-" Stef was about to continue but was interrupted by Lena. "About a month after Jesus left."
"Lena!" Stef interjected.
"He has to know," Momma looked at me with endearing eyes. "You just looked so lonely without anyone to talk to."
"I have friends, mom," I stated starting to get a little angry.
"You never invite them over. Are you worried about something?"
"No, I just get busy with class and practice the only thing I do outside of school is homework," I argued.
"Maybe this will help you at home. Please can you give it a shot. Just until Connor gets adopted," Momma argued back.
"You know he won't get adopted," I said.
"Jude!" Moms shouted at the same time.
"It's true. You guys know that."
"Jude Jacob Adams Foster! Go to your room!" Mom yelled. I tried to defend myself, but was given the death stare. I groaned making my way up the stairs yet again. As I passed Brandon's, or what was now Connor's room, I heard a sniffle come from inside.
I tapped on the door "Connor..." There wasn't a response. "Connor, please..." I felt for the door and jiggle it. It was open. I poke my head through to see Connor on the bed with his head in his hands. When I came in he lifted his head up; his face was red a puffy with streaks down his face. I slowly walked up to him and sat down on the end of the bed next to him.
"Connor, what's wrong?"
"Is it true?" Connor asked, "Is it true that I won't get adopted?" He looked over at me with the saddest expression on his face. "You overheard..." I sighed. There was no denying that he had, this gave me a knot in my stomach.
"Just tell me the truth, Jude, please."
I hesitated, then answered, "Foster children are less likely to get adopted when they reach a certain age." Connor looked down and sniffled again. "What age?"
I shrugged, looking at Connor. I remember what it was like to feel an emptiness. To feel like no matter where you went you didn't belong. "I don't know. Nine. Ten," I thought, "But I was twelve when I was adopted so there's a chance."
It took a moment before Connor spoke, "I never had a chance. My parents died when I was thirteen." His parents died? I wanted to ask about his story, but at the same time it was rude. "Connor..."
"It was two years ago, we were driving down the road to my soccer game," he recounted, but he didn't have to. I knew what a pain it was to recount those types of memories. I tried to tell him, but he kept going. He trusted me with this heavy situation, "I didn't like soccer much, but my dad look so happy when I played, same with baseball. There was another driver. I don't really know what happened, but I remember bright lights, then darkness. I thought I was dead, but I woke up in the hospital an orphan. My parents didn't have siblings and my grandparents died a long time ago." He stopped and didn't continue, and I didn't blame him.
Tears spilled down his cheeks and I felt so bad for him, I placed a hand comfortingly on his back. "My parents were in a car crash too, my mom died."
"What happened to your dad?"
"He was sent to prison and charged with manslaughter. He was drunk when he was driving. I was six and my sister, Callie, was ten."
"Did he ever try and contact you?"
"He did for while through letters my sister sent, but then the letters stopped. It took seven years and Callie's strength to talk to him. He had been released and he didn't even try to contact us. He said he was trying to but it was difficult to get his life back together, but I felt like he wasn't telling the truth. But he's my dad and I should try and love him, which I do, but the Adams Foster's are my true family." Then something surprising happened. Connor hugged me. It took me a little bit of time before I hugged him back, but when I did I held him on tight and so did he. I could tell he was crying as my shoulder slowly became wet, and sure enough tears began to form in my eyes. For the first time in a long time I cried over my mother's death and the family I gained after her death.
Through the muffle crying, I could hear Connor say, "I hope I find a family as lucky as yours."
I felt a tear slide down my cheek as I replied, "You will."