Sorry to take so long getting this chapter up – Scott refused to play nicely with me.
Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! And, as per usual, thanks to eternalsailorsolarwind and Julie for their beta skills!
Chapter 4
"Good morning, Scott," the social worker, a young woman name Susan Mitchell, chirped as she entered the hospital room. "I understand you're being released today – that's wonderful news!"
Scott looked up at her and smiled for her benefit, though he didn't see his release from the hospital as a reason for celebration.
"How're you feeling?" she prodded.
"Ok, I guess. I still get headaches, but I know the doctors told you that."
Nodding, Susan smiled. "Yes, they did. But they also said that the headaches are getting better, and that they seem to be the only side-effect of the accident."
"You mean the only side-effect of my brain damage," Scott corrected bluntly, knowing he was bordering on rude, but not really caring. The social worker glanced at him with thinly veiled surprise, but otherwise ignored his comment.
"I bet you're wondering where you're going to go now, aren't you?" she asked, pulling the visitor's chair over to the side of the bed. Without waiting for Scott to reply, she continued. "Well, unfortunately there are a lot more kids who need foster families than there are foster families available. So while we wait for a family to become available for you, you'll be staying at a group home."
"An orphanage," Scott stated plainly.
Susan chuckled. "No, Scott, there really aren't any such things as 'orphanages' anymore. Where you'll be going is a government-run home where kids like you stay until foster families take them in."
"Or until someone adopts them, yeah I get it," Scott continued, shrugging his shoulders. "So it's an orphanage that you just don't call an orphanage."
Taken aback by the forthright demeanor of the young boy, and his intense, almost accusatory gaze, it took her a moment to come up with a suitable reply. "Well, whatever you want to call it, Scott, it's not an orphanage. I know what you're imagining – a scary, dark, dingy building with a hundred kids wearing rags for clothes and working like slaves for the evil man in charge. That's just how they are in movies like Annie and Oliver Twist. It's nothing like that, I promise," Susan told him with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
Again, Scott shrugged his bony shoulders. "If you say so."
"Scott, listen to me, ok?" Susan pleaded with him, reaching out to take his hand. He resisted the urge to snatch his hand back. "It's not a horrible place. You'll be just fine there until we can find you a new family."
"I had a family," Scott spat at her. "I don't want a new one."
"I understand how horrible this must be for you –"
He cut her off with a bitter laugh, pulling his hand almost violently away from her. "Yeah, right. If you've never been through what I've been through, how can you understand how I feel? You can't!"
Susan waited patiently while he finished his short rant. It was something she'd been through with other children, and she knew he just needed to be able to get his anger out. This young boy broke her heart a little bit, though. He hadn't been taken away from an awful family situation – he wasn't from an abusive or neglectful home, he wasn't the unwanted child of drug addicts or violent alcoholics, as most of her charges were. Until nine weeks ago, he'd been part of a loving, supportive family; now they were gone, and he was completely alone.
"Scott, what happened to you was horrible – there's no denying that. I know you're hurting beyond anything I could imagine, and I'm so sorry you had to go through any of this. You may not believe this now, but with time the pain will go away, and you'll be able to be happy again. And you'll find a new family – one which will never replace your own – but one that you'll feel a part of and that you'll learn to love. It will just take time."
During her speech Scott has visibly deflated, and his gaze was now focused on a point on the wall behind Susan. All his pain was clearly reflected in his dark green eyes. Susan sighed sadly, knowing that the road ahead of him would not be an easy one. She wasn't optimistic about how quickly she'd be able to find a family willing to take in a 10-year-old boy with brain damage – especially when the long-term effects of that damage was yet to be determined.
*****
Later that day, Susan escorted Scott as they left the hospital, the nursing staff waving at their departing figures.
Their first stop was a small local mall. Since Scott literally had nothing to his name, Susan bought him clothes, a couple of books, and some other essentials that he needed to get by. After the mall, they headed straight to Essex House. Scott was subdued on the short drive to the place that would be his home for the foreseeable future. They pulled up outside of an older red-brick home, set back a few hundred feet from the main road.
"You're very lucky to be able to stay here, Scott. The building was donated by a wonderful man name Nathaniel Essex – they named it after him, as a thank you – and it's a much nicer facility than any of the other group homes I've ever seen."
Scott simply nodded, letting his eyes roam over the large 3-storey building. There were bars on all the windows, and he wasn't sure whether it was to keep strangers out, or to keep the kids in. Probably a bit of both, he decided when he saw the multiple locks on the front door. The back of the house was completely blocked by a monstrous metal fence that would undoubtedly keep the children from hopping over it to the street beyond, but also prevented anyone from the front of the home from seeing into the yard beyond.
It was a Saturday, so the residents of Essex House were on-site, as opposed to at school. The sounds of children playing could be heard from all areas of the building, and Scott felt some of his apprehension fading away. He was introduced to the staff, who, he had to admit, seemed very nice, and then shown to the room he would be sharing with nine other boys close to his own age.
The room was long and wide, taking up almost the entire length of one wing of the building. The beds were lined up five on each side, and Scott was pleased that the bed he'd be assigned was at the far end of the room, near to one of the large windows.
A room with a view, he mused to himself, wondering where he'd heard that saying before. He sobered when he remembered it was a movie his mother had liked. He placed his new duffle bag on his bed, and unpacked his newly-purchased clothes, while Susan chatted with one of the staff members.
"Come on, Scott, let's introduce you to some of your housemates," Susan and the other woman, Ellen, smiled at him. Scott nodded and put on an impassive face as he was led downstairs to meet the other children.
On the main floor there was a large recreation room, and that was where most of the children were gathered. The room housed a large television, another smaller TV hooked up for video games, and countless board games and books on the shelves lining the walls. For some reason Scott thought that it was a home for boys only, so he was surprised to see that there were, in fact, a fair number of girls scattered throughout the room, though they did appear to be outnumbered by boys. Some of the kids looked up when Scott and the two adults entered the room, even calling out friendly greetings to Susan.
"Hey, guys, I need your attention for a minute!" Ellen called over the noise. The chatter died almost instantly, much to Scott's amazement. "Thanks. You all remember Susan, right? Well she's brought you a new housemate, who I'll let her introduce."
Susan ushered Scott further into the room, and he felt his face start to flame under the appraising gaze of the dozens of kids in the room. He shuffled uncomfortably and scanned the room aimlessly as Susan told them his name, and asked them to make him feel at home. They clapped in welcome, and Scott was sure his face was now a deep crimson from embarrassment. Susan gave him a warm hug, told him she'd be back to check on him in a couple of days, and left. Scott suddenly felt very alone.
Some kids actually came up and started chatting with him, drawing Scott into the room and inviting him to join their games. He relented, deciding he might as well try to make the best of things. He played a round of Monopoly with one group, and then moved on to a computer game with a couple of other boys. When he was bored of that, he got up and scanned the room until his gaze fell upon a boy he figured to be about his age sitting alone in a grouping of chairs, his back to the rest of the room.
"Hey," Scott said cautiously as he approached from the side.
"Hi," the other boy replied, and continued to stare straight ahead, not even casting a glance in his direction. "You're Scott, right?"
Scott nodded.
"I'm Tim," he continued. Scott came closer and suddenly realized why Tim hadn't turned to look at him: he had a book open on his lap and he was reading – with the tips of his fingers.
"You're blind?" Scott blurted out in surprise before he could stop himself.
Tim didn't seem offended though, and simply smiled. "Yup."
"Oh," Scott said, wondering what else he could say. "Sorry."
Tim laughed. "I'm not, not really. It doesn't bug me most of the time, and it gets me out of having to do a lot of chores." Scott grinned at that and dropped himself into a chair opposite Tim.
"What're you reading?" Scott asked.
"Treasure Island. You ever read it?"
"Yeah, my Dad –" Scott caught himself and stopped dead. The pain in his chest swelled and choked off his voice.
"Your Dad what?"
Scott took a deep breath. "My Dad read it to me and my brother when we were little," he explained, trying to keep the sorrow out of his voice.
"Is your brother here, too?" At Scott's silence, Tim smiled sadly. "Sorry. What happened?"
"Plane crash," Scott replied simply, trying to keep the memories at bay. Tim seemed to understand.
"My parents were druggies, which is why I can't see – my mom kept on using when she was pregnant. I've been here for a year. Families don't want 'special needs' kids like me," he explained without even a hint of self-pity.
"I guess I'm 'special needs', too. I'm brain damaged from the crash," Scott smirked and Tim laughed.
"Cool! What's wrong – do you drool or walk funny or something?"
Now it was Scott's turn to laugh. "Nope, I just get really bad headaches."
Tim snorted. "That's nothing. I think we should form own club, though: Rejects R Us."
"Ok," Scott agreed with a grin. He decided that as long as Tim was there, Essex House might not be such a bad place.
~~
Coming soon, Chapter 5
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