"Because it was so last minute, the only place I could get that could take you is the Boys' Home. You shouldn't be here too long. I'll move you to another foster family as soon as possible."
Arlene had pulled up to a building that looked like a mix between a school and a jail. The windows all had bars on them and the whole place was surrounded by a tall fence with barbed wire along the top.
The boys who were outside looked angry and sullen.
Arlene parked the car and then took my stuff out of the trunk while I got out of the car. I took my backpack and duffel from her and followed her into the building.
"Name?" The lady at the desk said.
"Stephen Jacob Freud," Arlene said. The lady looked up with a raised eyebrow and then looked at me. "No relation."
I didn't know what she meant.
"Age?"
"Ten."
"Any dietary restrictions?"
"No."
"Any physical restrictions?"
"Not really. His left shoulder can act up occasionally because of an injury, but otherwise he's fine."
"Any chronic conditions?"
"No."
"Any daily medications?"
"No."
"Alright. Leave the bags here and follow me," she said.
"But, my stuff," I said.
"We'll take care of it. You won't need it here. We have to go through it to make sure you didn't bring any drugs, alcohol or weapons. Anything contraband will be confiscated and disposed of. Personal items will be catalogued and stored."
"But, my books," I said.
"We have an extensive library."
And with that, I was separated from my own belongings.
"Be good, Stephen. You won't be here for too long," Arlene said.
The lady from the desk was holding open a door and waiting for me.
In the next room, a man stood behind a counter and looked at me.
"Size eight," he said, and handed me a pile of clothes, blankets and a pillow.
"What size shoe?" He asked.
I looked down at my Converse.
"Three," I said. He handed me a pair of blue shoes.
The lady led me out of that room and into another one. This time it looked like a doctor's exam room.
"Oh. Hello there," the man in the room said. "I'm Doctor Eaves. Just put your stuff there on the chair and undress to your underwear."
I didn't want to do that. I didn't move.
"I don't have all day, kid. Let's go. Chop chop."
I pulled off my shoes, socks, pants and t-shirt. The lady took it all and put it all in a clear plastic bag.
"We'll launder this and store it with the rest of your stuff," she said.
The doctor looked me over, looked in my eyes and ears, my mouth and my nose, under my arms and made me bend over and then he ran his fingers down my spine. It felt weird. But it didn't hurt.
"You had shoulder surgery?" He asked, looking at my left shoulder. I nodded.
"Why?"
"I broke my shoulder when I was eight," I said.
The doctor just hemmed.
He took a comb and a stick and started looking through my hair.
"Alright. Through that door is a shower room. Take your belongings, leave them in the cubicle and take a shower. There's soap in there."
"But I just showered last night," I frowned.
"Great. Go take another shower. You need to wash your hair with the soap that's in there. In case you have lice or something."
I frowned. I didn't have lice. But I didn't think arguing was going to work. I picked up the pile of clothes and blankets and stuff from the chair and went through the door the lady was holding open.
"Leave your underwear on the floor. You can put on a pair of the ones John gave you."
She closed the door and I looked around. There was a shower stall and across there was a small cubicle with a bench. I put my stuff on it and went over to the shower. The water wasn't very warm so I showered as fast as I could. Once done, I dried off with the towel that had been with my stuff and pulled on the clothes. Blue track pants, a white t-shirt and a grey sweatshirt. Socks and the blue shoes. The clothes were a little small but not uncomfortable. There was a knock on the door.
"You done?" The lady asked.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied. She opened the door.
"Alright. Grab your things. Let's go."
I followed her out of the shower room and out of the doctor's exam room.
"You'll see the dentist on Friday when he's here," the lady said. She opened another door and we went into a room that looked like a waiting room. She pressed a button on the wall and a window slid open.
"Hey Janet," the man on the other side of the window said.
"New intake for you," the lady, who now I knew was called Janet, said.
The man looked behind her at me. He smiled.
"Hey there," he said and pressed a button on the wall on his side. Janet opened a door and indicated I should go through it. The man was standing on the other side waiting for me.
"You must be Stephen Freud?" He said, looking at a file in his hands. I nodded.
"Okay. Follow me, young man," he said. He seemed okay.
"My name is Malcolm. I'm the intake coordinator here. I'm also a certified therapist and I think you've been added to my group."
I didn't know what any of that meant.
"So, wake up is 7am. Breakfast is at 8. Classes are from nine to noon. Then it's lunch and free time until two. Afternoon classes are two to five. Therapy is Tuesday and Thursday from five to six. Tuesdays are group therapy, Thursdays is individual. You'll meet your individual therapist then. Dinner is at six. Free time until ten then lights out at ten. Laundry is done on Fridays and returned Saturday morning. So you should be good for a couple of days. You have a roommate. His name is Ben. He's eleven. I think you two will get along."
He opened the door to a room that had two beds, two desks and chairs, one night stand between the two beds, and two wardrobes. There was a lamp above each bed.
The first bed had stuff on it - bedding and such, a couple of books.
"Since it's after six and the other boys are already at dinner, I'll bring you something to eat while you make your bed. Ben should be back in a little bit. You can spend your free time with him. Get him to give you a tour. He can show you the day room, and stuff.
Now, rules. No swearing, no fighting. No illegal drugs. No alcohol. No drugs at all. If you're sick, tell a staff member and they'll take you down to the doctor. No stealing and no hoarding. No food in the rooms. You will attend all your classes unless you're sick. You'll attend all your therapy sessions unless you're sick. If you break a rule, you'll receive a demerit. Five demerits and you lose privileges."
Malcolm left me in the room. I moved over to the bed and started putting the sheets on. I put the extra shirts, underwear, pants and socks into the wardrobe.
Malcolm came back and knocked on the open door.
"I brought you a cheese sandwich and a carton of milk. I'm sorry it isn't more. Will it hold you over until breakfast?"
"Yeah, thanks," I said.
Malcolm told me this was the one exception to the 'no food in the rooms' rule.
I sat on my newly made bed and ate the sandwich and drank the milk. I threw out the plastic wrapper from the sandwich and the milk carton in the garbage in my room and sat and waited to meet my roommate.