The Boy was tired. Well, 2 hours of physical labour in midday sun did that you. But he didn't have anyone to blame but himself. He had a debt to pay and he had to work for it. Now one would ask how does a 14 year old guy like him get in debt?

If the Boy was asked, he would only pout and mumble excuses. Quite normal for these creatures

of hormonal change and awkward phase.

But that was pure bullshit. The sulking and cocky teenager had gotten himself into this situation through his own folly. Tricked! He was tricked into it! By a little girl, who also happened to be his foster, nonetheless. Yes, he was proud to admit that he was in his 6th foster home. Which according to his therapists, was not an accomplishment. He begged to differ. Exposing the leeches that subjected him to less than ideal homes, while taking government grants, was his life's goal (until he turned 18 anyways).

Nina, an overly aware girl of age 10, hadn't liked the fact that her parents had brought in a new brother, when she had a three, THREE, brothers already. Moreover, her parents had told her to behave and welcome her brother. They said he would be with them for a few days only. Who was he to come and go as he pleases in her home!? 

The Boy sighed. The memory of that day still fresh in his mind…

--Flashback--

Clothes, clothes, clothes and clothes. The Boy kept filling his clothes into black plastic bag. Hand-me-downs, donated and only some of them new. These clothes were all the wealth he had in this world. That's right, what would you expect to see with an orphan anyways? He didn't have something cliche and sappy as a memento of his unknown parents.

He then glumly hefted his bag and backpack. This was the 5th time he had been moving out of a foster home. It was becoming quite the habit. He looked at his bunk bed and around the room where he had stayed for 7 months. Well not anymore.

He turned to leave but stopped when he saw a lanky black boy, about his age standing there in the doorway.

"Eli," he said to the boy. But apparently the boy--Eli wasn't as calm as him. And it showed when he opened his mouth.

"Idiot!" Eli ground out, "I told you! Why don't you think? Is it so hard to talk about it? NO! But the tough guy has to run! Such a bright idea. Why ask help? Didn't think about any of us livin' in here! Didn't--" and the rant continued. It devolved into tears, hurt screaming and pained sobs.

The Boy was at fault. He knew it deep within. Every time he refused to ask for help when the walls closed in on him, every time he took off running where no one would bother him for a while. 

He knew what Eli was talking about. He knew he was the one who caused all of them to be sent away. But he couldn't handle it. He just had to get out. Get the air through his lungs. Just forget himself when it got too frustrating to be living there.

Somedays it was the thought that another one of the inspectors would come, pointing fingers, running their mouths of how the foster home wasn't up to standards. Then there the poor orphans went, scattered across county. Who thought about what they wanted? Apparently everyone else knew better.

He knew he had a problem. He didn't need some guy with a comfy couch to tell him that. In surprising fit of honesty, he would even say he had trust issues. (Romance novels, he observed through rigorous studies, surprisingly, have much to say about emotional vulnerability.)

But orphan or not, such behavior had consequences. For orphans, unsurprisingly.

His running and reappearing act had gotten his siblings in the group home in trouble. The CPWS* had deemed the group home 'unstable and very harmful for mental health of children'. So their group was going to broken up and sent elsewhere.

"Think about Shea! You think she--" Eli was cut off from his rant when the Boy raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I know, I-I messed up bad, Eli. I'm s-sorry. Ill make it up to you, I promise," he said with a slight tremor to his voice and hurriedly pushed past Eli and ran for the CPWS car. He couldn't face him now. He had messed up. Again.

***

The ride to the new foster 'home' was uneventful. Well, if you considered the case worker from CPWS, warning him again and again to not to run.

"Marcus, this is the 3rd time you've ran. Its not healthy. Your therapist suggested that you talk to an adult when--" the case worker was explaining.

"Aw come on, Mr. Abber. It wasn't that bad! I came home pretty early this time!" Marcus retorted from his seat. He needed banter to distract himself. Unsuccessful. The guilty pangs just got louder with his retort.

"Gosh, they had to call police and me, Marcus! You were having breakfast and then you ran like you were being chased!" Abber nearly exploded. He was understandably upset. His charge, his responsibility was in the Boy's wellbeing. And probably tens of other, just like him. He probably was stretched thin as it is.

...And the pangs just got louder. He needed a distraction. Stat.

Going back to school, a public one, mind you, and talking again about his failing grades despite his potential with his teachers, wasn't something he looked forward to. Who gives a sh*t if the bullies give him tough time for giving them wrong answers in exams?

"Pssh, details. And that wasn't breakfast. We were just having last night's pizza. My stomach was gassy and I had to get out. And I came home by myself this time," the Boy said airily. Deflection and flippancy was the way to go.

Their back and forth continued until they reached their destination. They got out of the car with his stuff. The luxurious trash bags, black tint version.

"Okay," Abber sighed. "For next two weeks, you're going to be with the Andrews. They are a nice bunch. Family of six. They agreed to have you here until we find you new place. So, I beg you not to cause trouble okay?" Abber pleaded. Seems he really wanted this work out.

"You think so low of me, Mr. Abber. I wouldn't dream of causing trouble," Marcus said, smiling innocently. Everyone had coping mechanisms, mischief was his. And deflection. Couldn't forget that.

***

The meeting with Andrews had been quite tame. They looked natural at taking fosters. If that was even a thing. So he couldn't tell if it was their first time or not. Their kids were cool. At least the guys were. The little girl, Nina, though was something else. The girl kept giving him the stink eye.

He had thought she would come around, but apparently she had quite the grudge against him. So, he had taken upon himself to find out what sin did he commit.

In one of his valiant attempts of taming-- err, bribing her through chocolate, she had responded quite well. He had thought he could ask her now why she was so mad at him. After asking the girl again went all 'frowny' on him.

"Stupid," she had said looking at him all disappointed. As if he had said 2+2=5. Or barbie was overrated. Or football is actually rugby and soccer is actually football. Last one was too far, even he had to admit.

The Boy was certainly pissed now. Chocolates, TV time, his little pocket money… he had tried everything, but this girl was like a template tsundere came alive.

"You know, Nina, you just don't like me. But all girls like me. Hey, even my other sisters too liked me when they met me. Maybe you're not a girl," he said, baiting her. He was cringing inside, because the insult was straight from 'playground wars'. And looking at her expression, she caught the bait. Such is the power of playground curses. Smart ten year old or not, none shall be spared!

"Maybe, you are like your brothers. Hah, I wonder how would you react when other 'girls' call you smelly when you grow up like your brothers?" he continued, "Or maybe you would sprout a beard?" he nearly laughed when she nearly turned red like a tomato.

"I'M NOT A BOY! You're a smelly boy! YOU are gonna get a beard! STUPID!" it looked as though Nina was about to cry, but she stopped.

"I bet you can't even ask a girl on a date. I bet girls even don't look at you!" she said spitefully. Let it be known that she broke the Geneva convention first.

This then devolved into a childish quarrel between them. He was proud that at least he had gotten her to talk to him. But never had he expected to make a bet with a 10 year old. And the 'mean' little girl had raised the stakes high.

The bet was like this: He had to ask a girl on a date, successfully. But the girl would be of Nina's choosing. If he won, she would be nice to him and call him 'big brother' for a full day. If he lost though, he would have to get her coupons worth 30$ for the store. She was dead set on those barbies. He shuddered at thought of mistakenly buying a haunted one. It was not the fear of dolls talking, no sire.

They had walked around the neighborhood next day to, as Nina called it, 'Date Hunting'. He had spotted several girls he had come to know for the past week. He knew that, even if he asked them to say yes as a favour, they would. Such were his charms, he liked to think so sometimes. And he had subtly suggested that to Nina...but she rejected them all.

His patience was wearing thin and he was about to call this off when he spotted two girls walking down the other side of street. One girl in particular caught his eye. She was a pretty blonde. Green eyes. Tall for a girl. She was probably a little older. About 15 or 16.

"Her! She is the one!" said Nina pointing at the same girl he was looking at. She turned to him with that angelic smile that would've fooled anyone else.

'What do you mean, she is the one!? Don't point at her as though you found my soulmate or something! And she's older dammit!' he complained to himself. Even his imaginary charms had limits.

"No. She's older than me. She would probably be embarrassed to be seen with someone younger. And besides we don't know her," the Boy said almost righteously. But only he knew that the girl wouldn't give him a glance, much more a date.

"I know her! She was my babysitter when I was 7! She still comes around for babysitting when my brothers need to go to camps. And didn't you say 'AlL gIrLs LiKe Me'?" retorted Nina with poor imitation of his voice. He did not sound like that.

Marcus sighed in defeat and approached the girls with Nina.

"Hello! Excuse me!" he called out to them.

They both turned and saw him, confused, and then Nina. Recognition flared across their faces and they approached him.

"Hey Nina. How are you?" asked the blonde.

"I'm fine May! How are you? Do you really make coffee art with April now?" the little box of trouble asked and looked at both the girls. The blonde, May, and April, the other girl, laughed. Probably an inside joke.

They glanced at him and continued to talk with Nina. It became quite awkward for Marcus to just stand there. Courtesy was dead. And teenagers weren't any kinder.

He coughed lightly and said, "Hey. We weren't introduced," Side eye to the smug little sh*t grinning, and then he turned up the good ol' Joey on them, "How you doin'?"

May and April tittered. April nudged her friend a little, as if saying 'Did this guy really Joey us?' He wasn't that bad was he? 

"I'm sorry. It's just that, we met Nina after so many days. But you're right. I'm May and this is April, my girlfriend."

Cue the betrayal music. He had the overwhelming urge to grab his chest and say, 'Et tu, you little imp?"

"Hey, don't worry about me. I'm doing just fine." April teased. Sure jump in, why not?

"Right, of course." He laughed. What else do you do when this happens?

After some more idle talk, the 2 girls were on their way. And so were Marcus and Nina.

"I'm gonna get back at you for that, you know," he threatened playfully.

His foster sister just giggled. In her own hellion way. Although the 'Date Hunting' was unsuccessful, he was nevertheless smiling when they walked back home, hand-in-hand.

Even with such a massive debt on his head, he was laughing. The guilty pangs were kind of quiet now. And while he didn't know whether he would able to stay with them in the future, he at least knew, someone would miss him. He didn't let that shadow his joy. He was as every child should should be.

So, he smiled.

=====================================

CPWS: Child Protective and Welfare Services.

It's something I made up, so as not defame the real agency.