Chapter 1
September 19, 2014
Rafael felt he got misplaced. He didn't know where he belonged. His skin tone was too light for the Cuban neighbourhood yet too dark for the neighbouring community. It wasn't his only skin tone that was different from his classmates. Rafael had blue eyes and curly hair. Miss Santiago gave the class what he felt was an impossible assignment. "I would like a one-thousand-word report on your heritage. Due at the beginning of class on Monday," Miss Santiago announced. "Yes, Rafael?" she asked when he raised his hand.
"Miss Santiago, I don't know anything about my biological parents," Rafael replied. He looked at his hands. His fingers were long and narrow.
"You could research dominant and recessive genes to figure out something about your parents. For example, you have blue eyes. To get light-coloured eyes, both of your parents had to pass you the gene for light eyes. Maybe your birth mother or father had blue eyes. Even with your hair cut short, I can tell you have curly hair. Those genes are also recessive. If you use what you know, you could extrapolate what you inherited from your birth parents," Miss Santiago explained. "Yes, Juanita?"
"What does extrapolate mean?"
"It means to estimate or base a conclusion off statistics provided the trends continue," Rafael replied.
"Close, Rafael. You understand the concept. Then write about your adoptive family," she suggested. Rafael's chin dropped to his chest. He was never adopted, and his new family just took him into their house before school started. Rafael Pablo Castillo was the name his first family gave him. Their surname was not Castillo, so Rafael didn't know how they came up with the name.
Juanita Cruz raised her hand again. When the teacher called on her, Juanita said, "Miss Santiago, Rafael got sent to a new foster home in August. He never got adopted." She was attempting to be helpful but made it much worse for Rafael.
The boys in the class snickered while the girls pitied him. Rafael was the boy nobody wanted. Each of his foster parents only kept him for a few years before moving him to another family. He thought the Cortez family would raise him, but they couldn't afford the adoption fees. They had returned him to the foster care system after his fourth birthday. It got too painful to keep him. He could barely remember the family.
Rafael often wondered about his biological parents. Did they want to keep him? Were they teenagers, and is that why they couldn't raise him? What could be the reason for giving him away? The only people who could provide the answers were his biological parents. Miss Santiago gave him more to ponder. Could he use what he knows about himself to figure out where he belonged?
"Rafael, may I have a minute of your time?" Miss Santiago asked at the end of the day. She was concerned with his mental health. Discussing his foster family caused the boy some unease. Rafael probably has more questions about his birth parents.
He tugged on his threadbare shirt before he approached the teacher. His jacket was too light to keep him warm from the cold. "Yes, Miss Santiago," Rafael replied. Melina Santiago usually knew more about her students. She dropped the ball on the lone foster child in her class. Rafael initially got placed in another room. He got moved to her class a few days before school started.
"Is it true? What Miss Cruz said?" she asked. He nodded. "Are they your first foster parents?" Melina tried to put herself into Rafael's shoes. She had dark hair and eyes like her brother and sister. Her father passed away when Melina was in grade school. Not knowing her father was too difficult for her to imagine.
"No, ma'am. My birth mom died when I was born. I was born three weeks early. A family was supposed to adopt me, but they didn't want to pay for the medical tests. I got placed into foster care by the adoption company when I was a baby. The first foster family wanted to adopt me but couldn't afford the legal fees. At least that's what Mrs. Sumner told me. I got moved to another home for three years. Then I lived with the Sanchez family for two years and the Perez family for a year before I got moved to the Rodriguez home," Rafael explained.
"Why didn't they get your father to take you?" Santiago wondered.
Rafael shrugged. "I guess they didn't know who the father was," he replied. "Mrs. Sumner said nobody came to the hospital to claim me. Either he didn't know about me, or he didn't want to raise me."
Melina Santiago took a closer look at the boy standing in front of her. His beautiful blue eyes looked too sad for the attractive boy. "You can write about your favourite foster family," she suggested. Rafael shook his head. When his lip quivered, she said, "Grab some of the newspapers from the door. Select an article and write a short story about the people."
"Thank you, Miss Santiago." Melina watched the boy stick his hand into the pile, pulling a random paper from the middle without paying attention to what he took. Rafael's clothes were worn thin. His shoes were old, the sole beginning to separate from the fabric upper. She wasn't permitted to interfere.
"Rafie," Juanita called when he left the school. "My mama said you're coming home with me tonight."
"Why, Nita?" he asked.
"Mama said Mrs. Rodriguez had to work late," Juanita replied.
"More like getting high," Rafael mumbled. Juanita scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. She thought Rafie's foster mother worked late every Friday night. "Mr. Rodriguez is away for a conference. Mrs. Rodriguez made plans with her friend."
"Foster parents aren't supposed to do drugs," Juanita stated. "You should tell the social worker."
"They aren't supposed to do a lot of things," Rafael confessed. "I won't say anything either. It makes everything worse."
Rafael looked at his friend. Juanita had smooth black hair that she wore in braids. Her eyes were the colour of milk chocolate, and her skin was slightly darker than his. "My mama had to get groceries. She'll pick us up from Mrs. Manoso's house," Juanita said, holding out her hand. Rafael held Juanita's hand as they walked home from school.
The children lived in the Cuban community in Newark, New Jersey. They had to walk past the street where gangs liked to recruit young boys. Rafael had no interest in joining their crew. He vowed to run away if they approached him to join. The streets were eerily quiet. Rafael always lived in the community. But it's the first time he lived in a less dangerous area. As Rafael and Juanita neared the Manoso home, they saw a Porsche 911 turbo pull away from the curb.
"Nice car," Rafael said, whistling. "I don't remember seeing the car in the neighbourhood before."
"It belongs to Mrs. Manoso's son Ricardo. He doesn't visit too often," Juanita offered. "I think he lives in Trenton."
"Is he a dealer?" Rafael wondered. The only men he knew that drove expensive cars were drug dealers.
"No. I think Ricardo has a security company?" Juanita asked, unsure if she correctly recalled the information. She wondered if Ricardo had brought clothes for Rafael. Mrs. Manoso said she'd ask him when he called.
They walked down the tree-lined street towards their homes. Juanita lived in the red brick house to the right of the Manoso home, and Rafael lived a few houses down on the left, the one with white siding. When Rafael walked Juanita home from school, he always walked her to the door.
Mrs. Manoso saw the children walking up the street and waited inside the screen door for the children to arrive. She noticed them when she waved at her oldest boy, Ricardo when he left the house. He dropped off used clothes for the woman with six foster children. Most of the children were in high school. The youngest, ten-year-old Rafael Castillo, didn't fit in with the older children. His clothes were more threadbare than the older kids, but he never complained.
Ricardo brought clothes for all of the children and gently used shoes. When he gave Camila Rodriguez new shoes, she had sold them then bought used ones from the thrift shop. Maria Manoso told her son what Camila had done. He was furious but powerless to fix the problem. The thrift store shoes were in rough shape before the children received them. It was a shame the child protection services placed those children in her care. Maria wanted to report the woman, but Rafael would be the one to suffer.
"Hola, Rafael, Juanita," Mrs. Manoso greeted the children. Her hair showed more grey than usual. It had turned grey practically overnight. She constantly worried about Rafael from the moment he moved onto the street.
"Hola, Mrs. Manoso," they chimed.
Rafael looked around the Manoso home. Mrs. Manoso kept a clean house. The hardwood floor always looked polished, and the porcelain tile reflected the light. "My son brought you some clothes and shoes," Maria stated.
"Oh. Um, thank you. I'm not sure Mrs. Rodriguez will let me keep them," Rafael said, blushing.
"Psh. None of the clothes are new. Ric brought clothes and shoes for the other children too. Nobody is getting special treatment. I noticed your shoes are falling apart." She lifted the shoe Rafael left by the front door. The sole fell off. "I guess that settles it. You're taking the newer shoes," Maria announced. Maria grabbed the old shoes and tossed them into the trash. "Rafael, I made arrangements with Camila for you to spend the weekend here," Maria announced when she returned.
"Thank you, Mrs. Manoso. Do you have a computer I may borrow? I have an assignment for English class, and I would like to do some research," Rafael asked. Rafael was polite despite living in foster homes.
"Of course, Nieto. My son had installed the computer updates for me today. Use the guest account to log in," Maria advised. Rafael raised an eyebrow and didn't understand why Mrs. Manoso called him her grandson. "Sorry, Rafael. You reminded me of Ric when he was a boy."
Maria was embarrassed that she called the boy her grandson. He looked similar to Ric when he was younger, but the shape of his chin and his nose were more delicate. Rafael's blue eyes were an intriguing shade. Darker than the sky on a sunny day. She would love to have Rafael as her grandson.
Juanita sat on the chair beside Rafael. "Who are you writing about for your paper?" she asked.
"I don't know. Miss Santiago told me to grab a newspaper on my way out the door. I didn't see which one I took," Rafael replied. He pulled the paper from his backpack to read the headline. "Trenton Times. The Bombshell Bounty Hunter blows up a brand new Porsche Boxster at RGC Waste Haulers." Rafael read the article and laughed. "I'm going to write about Stephanie Plum."
Maria Manoso blessed herself as Rafael searched the internet for details about Stephanie. "Mrs. Manoso, does your son know Stephanie Plum?" Juanita asked.
"He does. The Porsche Boxster belonged to Ric," she replied. Rafael sat with his mouth dropped open. He saw many pictures of exploded cars, buildings and her apartment.
"Your son let her borrow his expensive car after everything around her explodes?" Rafael asked. "He must love her."
"My son loves Stephanie but refuses to admit it," Maria said, sighing. "They will make beautiful babies." Maria silently added, "Like you." She left the children to use the computer while she prepared a snack and started dinner.
"Thank you, Mrs. Manoso," the kids chimed when she placed cut fruit and milk on the table.
"Dinner will be ready in an hour. Juanita, your mother, said you should stay to eat dinner with Rafael," she announced.
Juanita's mom arrived four hours later to pick up her daughter. They may live next door, but Yolina didn't want her daughter outside alone in the dark. The neighbourhood wasn't safe.
Rafael found copies of the newspaper articles on the internet, but none of the photos were that great. He found other pictures people added on Facebook and Instagram. Those photographs showed a beautiful woman with wild curly hair and blue eyes.
"What are you looking at?" Ricardo Sr. asked when he approached Rafael.
"Pictures of Stephanie Plum. Miss Santiago asked the class to write an essay on our heritage," Rafael replied.
"Why are you researching Miss Plum?" he asked.
"Oh. I don't know my birth mom or my dad. Miss Santiago said I could write about someone from the newspaper. Stephanie Plum was on the cover of the Trenton Times that I took," Rafael explained. "Her eyes are the same colour as mine."
Ricardo Manoso Sr. compared the eyes of the woman and Rafael. He had to agree. Their eyes were the same colour. "I'm going to read my book. Let me know if you need any help," Ricardo told Rafael.
"Thank you, sir."
Maria heard the conversation as she dried the dishes. "Do you think she could be the child's mother?" Maria whispered.
"Ric didn't mention Stephanie having a child," he replied.
She grabbed her cellphone to find a picture that she had downloaded of Stephanie. "They have the same chin, nose, eyes and curly hair. I bet she's his mother," Maria stated, pointing out the similarities.
"If you are correct, why did she give up the child?" Ricardo asked. Maria shrugged because she couldn't think of a valid answer.