It always happened like this. Something good would happen, and he'd finally feel like he was getting back on track, and it would be followed by a series of mishaps that would eventually lead to relocation or another hearing…

Taylor looked like she was going to be sick or pass out or something like that, and he couldn't blame her, really. He was feeling pretty crappy, too, when he ran over to the car and knocked on her window.

She didn't look at him for a moment or two, and he had that awful, wrenching feeling like he'd just made a girl cry. Maybe he had. He couldn't tell.

"Melissa?"

Silence, and she undid her seatbelt, turned off the engine, and opened the door.

"Before you say anything, I'm sorry," he said, and he was, really. "I heard a noise and I came down and she was on my porch, blowing bubbles."

"Save it, Jackson," she sighed, getting out of the car. "When you said you had a problem, I thought you had a problem."

"What else would you call her?" he asked, trying to make Melissa laugh. If she laughed, maybe he would feel better.

"Is she drunk?" she asked. She didn't laugh.

"I think so," he replied, wiping his mouth one more time just for good measure. She'd seen the whole thing, but if his lips weren't pink anymore, maybe she'd… forget. "She'll be out soon, but I thought it'd be best if she was home…"

"Couldn't you drive her?"

"Apparently," he chuckled, "she has a thing against my truck."

"Eric drives a Jeep?"

"Yeah, but that," he gestured to the old vehicle by the curb, "is a truck."

Silence, then, "How was your hearing?"

"Alright," he replied, shocked. "How'd you know about that?"

"There was a blurb in the paper last week," she told him, kicking a rock back into the grass. Suddenly, he was embarrassed by his lawn. "Eric wrote it."

"Why am I not surprised?" Jackson laughed, shaking his head.

"Give him some credit, okay?" she told him. "He made it seem like you rescue baby kittens from burning houses during lunch period. At least he didn't call you a criminal."

He didn't know why she was defending Eric, but he didn't mention it. After all, Taylor was on his porch.

"I'm not a hero," he protested. It was like he was disrupting some sort of balance, being the hero of people he'd never even considered talking to before. There was a line he just couldn't cross, and they kept bringing him closer to the limit. She kept bringing him closer.

"I know, Jackson," she said. "Let's just get her into the car so I can go home."

"Alright..."

He jogged back to the porch and she stayed behind and climbed back into the car and started the engine. He half expected her to drive away, but she was still there by the time he'd gotten Taylor to the driveway.

And he noticed that even Taylor was acting strangely. She'd practically thrust herself onto him earlier, but now she was being all modest about having to lean on him with his arm around her waist in case she fell. He didn't understand her. He really didn't.

"You know where she lives?" he asked, but she didn't hear him through the window, so he had to wait, awkwardly scratching the back of his head, until she'd rolled down her window. "You know where she lives?"

"Yeah, Jackson," Melissa said, checking her mirrors like a responsible driver. Most people wouldn't have done the same, and it made him laugh a little.

"What?"

"You check your mirrors."

"Yeah, and I wear my seatbelt," she said, putting the car in reverse, then looking up at him, her foot waiting to release the breaks. "It's better to be dorky than dead, okay?"

"No, no, no," he said, shocked she'd misunderstood him. "I wasn't laughing because it's dorky… I was… I was laughing because I think it's… kinda cute."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, Melissa."

"Don't apologize, Jackson," she told him. "It was my fault for getting all defensive and stuff…"

"No," he laughed, "not about that. About this. I'm sorry."

"Oh."

"So… um…"

"I'm going to go now, Jackson," she said, pointing behind her with her thumb. "I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

"Okay."

He nodded and waited in the driveway, watching as she backed out and maneuvered around his truck and disappeared around the corner. He waited there, thinking, in his boxers until his foster mom opened her window, breaking the early morning silence, and called down to him.

"Jackson, baby," she said, tired, her hair standing in every direction, "what on Earth are you doing down there?"

"Just needed some air," he lied. "Go back to sleep, Nancy, okay? I'll be in in a minute."

When he finally turned around and headed back inside, he didn't feel so bad. Nothing had exploded, no one had died… He tiptoed up the stairs, being specially careful on the one that always creaked, and when he got to his room, he flipped open his cell phone and sighed.

Maybe it wasn't hopeless after all.