Ship of Souls

it looked like Mom was just too tired and weak to wake up.
    Marva was my mother’s best friend—her only friend, really. We mostly kept to ourselves, but Marva lived on our floor, and she was there with us at the end. When Mom passed and the hospice lady went away, Marva let me come stay with her. But ACS sent a social worker to check on me, and she said I had to go with her. Marva worked nights as a security guard, and that meant I was sleeping alone in the apartment. Marva said, “Don’t worry, baby, I got it all under control.” But Marva never came for me.
    Now I’m in the system, and I don’t really know what’s going to happen next. Jimmy, this kid in the bunk above mine, acts like he’s an expert on foster care. Mom used to tell me to make small talk when I wanted to get to know someone new. I get kind of nervous around people I don’t know. Not Jimmy—he just dives right in.
    “You a new kid, or did you get sent back?”
    “Sent back?”
    “Sure—happens all the time,” he says. “Foster parents change their mind, or you screw up and lose your shine, and next thing you know you’re right back where you started.”
    “This isn’t where I started,” I say with just a hint of attitude.
    “So you’re a new kid.”
    “Yeah, I guess.”
    “Welcome to purgatory, otherwise known as ‘limbo-land.’ This is where we wait to get pulled up to heaven or dragged down into hell.”
    I don’t know what this crazy kid is talking about, so I just take a book out of my bag and pretend to be absorbed. Jimmy hangs over the edge of the bed watching me until I think blood’s going to start pouring out of his ears. Finally he jumps down and sits on the edge of my bed. “What you reading?”
    Before I can answer, Jimmy rips the book out of my hands and looks at the picture on the cover. “Looks lame.”
    “Hand it over, then.”
    He flings the book at me and uses his heel to kick my suitcase, which is shoved under the bed. “You got a lock on this?”
    I hesitate and wonder if I should lie. Telling the truth might just encourage him to snoop around. But something tells me this kid’s a pro when it comes to lying, so I settle for telling the truth. “No. Why?”
    “Stuff gets snatched all the time around here. Caseworkers think they got us locked down with all their rules and regulations, but they don’t know half the stuff that goes down around here—especially after dark. Soon as they call lights out, all the heavyweights go to work—stealing, dealing. How old are you?”
    “Eleven.”
    Jimmy nods like that’s a good thing. “You got a year before they put you in the juvie joint.”
    “Juvie joint? What’s that?”
    “That’s where they put the kids who got records. You know—junior criminals.”
    My heart’s starting to speed up, but I keep my nose buried in my book so Jimmy won’t see the fear in my eyes. I’m hoping that if I show no interest, Jimmy will take a hint and climb up into his own bunk. But Jimmy’s not even looking at me. His eyes are fixed on the window even though there’s nothing to see through the frosted glass.
    “Yeah—group home’s no joke. I had a cousin who wound up in a group home. They messed him up pretty bad. Between the gangs and the pervs, Alfie didn’t stand a chance. The way he tells it, group home’s just like training camp for prison—a whole bunch of bad asses trying to prove who’s on top.” Jimmy smirks at me. “All I’m saying is, don’t drop the soap!” He laughs at the terror in my eyes before pulling himself back up to the top bunk.
    I lie in my own bed and will myself not to cry. Cheese and rice . Mom told me never to take the Lord’s name in vain, so even though I really need God’s help right now, I can’t bring myself to say his son’s name. So instead I say, Cheese and rice! Please don’t let me get put in a group home. Please .
    The next morning after breakfast, I get called into the caseworker’s office. There’s an old white lady sitting in the chair beside her desk, so I stand by the door. I look like a soldier standing at ease, but really I’ve got my fingers crossed behind my back. Come on, lady , I plead silently, take me home. I promise to be the perfect son you’ve always wanted .
    The caseworker stands and comes around her desk to put a hand on my shoulder. “D, this is Mrs. Martin. I’ve just been telling her a bit about you.”
    I extend my hand and say, “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Martin.”
    The old