The Lost Boy

with David’s foster guardians.”
    “Gluttons for punishment, are they?” the judge chuckled before continuing. “Prior convictions?” he asked, as he turned to my lawyer.
    “None, Your Honor, ” the lawyer stated, as he leaned forward.
    The judge leaned back into his chair. As his eyes looked down on me, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise. I moved my left hand to scratch my right arm. I held my breath, waiting for the judge’s answer. The judge fingered his mustache. With a sudden nod of his head he turned to the court reporter. “Pending no further verification on the charge of arson … the court recommends sentencing of … 100 days in juvenile detention, honoring time already served.
    “And off the record, ” the judge stated, “young man, the charge of arson is a most serious one. The only reason I am not sentencing you for that is I have no direct proof. While it appears you
may not
have committed this crime, you have in fact been skating on thin ice for quite some time. You appear to have some good qualities and ample guidance, ” the judge said, nodding to Mrs Catanze, “but … be wise enough to employ them both.”
    Immediately after the judge struck his gavel, Gordon whispered, “You’ll be out in 30, 34 days.”
    “But I didn’t do it!” I whined.
    “Doesn’t matter, ” Gordon stated matter-of-factly. “That’s rarely the issue. Believe me, kid, ” he said, pointing to the judge, “that guy’s a Santa Claus. If the prosecution had any hard evidence, I’d be fitting you for a straitjacket for the funny farm right about now. Besides, the ol’ man has a soft spot for scrawny little wimps like you. Come on, back to your cell, you animal, ” Gordon joked, as we stood up.
    Without warning, Mother stepped in front of Gordon and me. “You’re wrong! You’re all wrong! You’ll see! I warned that social worker broad, and now I’m warning you!” Mother screeched, as she thrust her finger at Mr Hutchenson. “He’s bad! He’s evil! You’ll see. And next time he’ll hurt somebody! The sooner
that boy
is dealt with, the sooner you’ll see that I was right and I didn’t do a damn thing wrong! You’re fooling yourself if you think this is the end of it! You watch! There’s only one place for
that boy.
You’ll see!” Then she stormed out of the room, yanking Kevin behind her.
    I inched my way to Gordon, whose face was chalk white. “Where does your mother live?”
    “At home, ” I replied.
    “Oh?” Gordon asked, as he raised his eyebrows. “The home you
burned?
I mean, if you burned the basement … you must have gutted the house, too.”
    “Yeah!” I laughed, after I realized he was only joking.
    Thirty-four days later, I cried as I stuffed my collection of arts-and-crafts projects and the folders of schoolwork I had acquired into a small cardboard box. In an awkward sense, I didn’t want to leave. In “the outs” – the outside world – it was too easy for me to get into trouble. While at Hillcrest, I had grown used to my surroundings. I knew exactly what was expected of me. I felt safe and secure. As Carl Miguel escorted me to the front desk, he explained that the outside world would indeed be the real test of my survival. “Pelz, ” Carl said, as he took my hand, “hope I never see you again.”
    I returned Carl’s handshake before I gleamed at Mrs Catanze, who seemed shocked at the sight of my pants, which I had grown out of. “Well?” she asked.
    “How’s my turtle?” I inquired.
    “Right about now, I’d say he’s soup.”
    “Mom!” I whined, knowing Lilian was only teasing me. “Come on, ” I said, as I spread my fingers, “Let’s go home!”
    Lilian’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when she realized that this was the first time I had called her house my home. She took my open hand. “Home it is!”

8 – Estranged
    Things were never the same after I was released from juvenile hall and returned to the Catanzes. The other foster kids seemed to eye me with suspicion. Whenever I walked into a room, they would suddenly quit talking and flash me fake smiles. Whenever I’d try to join in on a conversation, I’d find myself standing in front of everyone with my hands buried in my pant pockets. Then after an eternity of silence I’d leave the living room, feeling stares on the back of my neck. Even Big Larry, whom I once considered my “big brother, ” brushed me off before he moved out. After a few days of