The Lost Boy

to?”
    “Move it!” Lilian barked.
    Once Larry left the kitchen, Lilian wiped her eyes. “Come here and sit down. Now listen very carefully. Your mother …” She stopped to clear her throat. “David, I’ve been taking care of kids since I don’t know when. I have never, ever met anyone as cold as your mother.”
    “You’re telling me!” I interrupted.
    “David, this is not the time to act funny. You have to understand something: You’re a foster child.
A foster child.
And because of that, you’ve got two strikes against you. You have to be careful of everything you say and everything you do. If you get into trouble, we … we could lose you.”
    I knew by the seriousness of her tone that what she was telling me was important. But I simply could not understand the message.
    Lilian nodded, indicating she was again talking over my head. “David, if you get into trouble, you could end up in the hall – juvenile hall. That’s where they send foster children who end up in trouble. It’s a place you never want to end up. I don’t know what your mother’s up to, but
you,
young man, better learn how to
manage
yourself a little better. Otherwise you’ll be grounded – for a year.” Lilian patted my knees and then walked out of the kitchen.
    I knew that she was using Mother to scare me. I also knew that Mother could never get to me, now that I was in foster care … _could she _?
    “Hey, Mrs C, ” I shouted, “what’s
grounded?
”
    “Oh, don’t you worry. You’ll soon find out, ” Lilian laughed, as she strolled down the hall and into her bedroom.
“You’ll manage!”
    That evening I thought long and hard about what Lilian had told me. After Rudy and Lilian left for dinner, I had an overwhelming urge to call Mother. Strangely, I just wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice. I picked up the phone several times, but I couldn’t bring myself to dial her number.
    I wiped away my tears as Connie bounced into the kitchen. “Hey, what’s up?”
    I broke down and told her what I was trying to do. Without a word, Connie took the phone and dialed my mother’s number. Moments later I nearly choked as I heard the recording that Mother’s number was “... no longer in service.” Connie persisted and called the operator, who confirmed the number was now unlisted.
    I stood in front of Connie not knowing what to say or do. I didn’t know how I should feel. I knew that Mother had changed her telephone number as a form of another “game” -I was not
allowed
the privilege of
her
number.
    After Connie’s date came to pick her up, I sat down and stared at the television. I had never been alone in the house before. I counted the hours until Father would pick me up the next morning. I drifted off to sleep as I watched the black-and-white snowflakes dance across the TV screen.
    The next morning I stumbled out of bed as I rubbed my eyes, then made my way over to the bedroom window. I turned and looked behind me. I didn’t remember how I got to bed. After I put on my best clothes and washed my face, twice, I ran to the living room window. I stood tall as I waited for Father.
    After a few minutes my shoulders became sore, but I remained rigid as the clock in the living room struck 7:00. At 7:35 I heard the distinctive sounds of Father’s borrowed VW. I allowed myself a smile after making sure my hair was just right. I could see an off-brown VW struggle as it made its way up the street. But the car continued to drive by.
Well, maybe he doesn’t have the right address,
I told myself.
He’ll be back in a few seconds.
    At 7:55 I heard the sound of another VW Bug go past Lilian’s house.
    I then convinced myself that I had heard the wrong time – that Father would pick me up at 8:00, not 7:00; that I had made another mistake.
Whoops, stupid me!
I said to myself.
    Eight o’clock came and went, as did more than a dozen cars that cruised by. As every car drove up the street, I knew in my heart that the next car had to be the one with Father in it.
    Around nine o’clock Lilian yawned as she stumbled into the kitchen. “David, are you still here?” I merely nodded. “Well, let me check the calendar. I know your father said 7:00 a.m. sharp. For goodness sake, I wrote it down.”
    “I know, Mrs C, ” I said, trying not to show my feelings. “He’ll be here any …” My head spun to the window when I heard the rumblings of another VW lurch its way up the steep street. “See? Here he is!” I cried out,