The Lost Boy

was far more important.
    Gordon stopped off at his home. Soon the phone became glued to his ear as he pleaded, then begged, foster parents on the other end of the line to take me in, if only for a few days. After several hours, he slammed down the phone in frustration. “Damn it!” he said. “There are never enough homes! And all the homes we have are full!” I watched him as he again attacked the phone. Seconds later his tone changed. Even though he turned his back to me, I could still hear him quietly ask, “What’s the count on A-Wing? Yeah? Okay, put a bed on hold for Pelzer. No, no, he’s clean; no charges. I’m just trying to
place
him, and I’m running out of homes. Okay, thanks. I’ll give you a call before we come in.”
    As Gordon spun around to look at me, he realized I knew what was about to happen. “Sorry, David, I just don’t know what else to do.”
    I was so mentally exhausted, I no longer cared. In a strange way I actually looked forward to the routine at The Hill and seeing counselors like Carl Miguel again. Before I could tell Gordon to drive me to The Hill, he snapped his fingers and grabbed his jacket, streaking out the front door and ordering me to follow him to the car. Inside the Chevy Nova he gave me a sly smile. “I should have thought of this earlier. It’s impossible for some of these parents to say no, once they’ve had a good look at you kids. I know it’s a raw deal, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”
    I squinted my eyes as I tried to understand what Gordon’s words meant. Before I could ask, my chest jerked forward as he jammed the gear shift into park. “Well, ” he proudly announced, “this is it. Put on your best face.” Gordon surged with pride as he rapped his knuckles on the screen door, a split second before he marched in.
    I felt like a burglar as I tiptoed into someone else’s home without permission. A pair of heads popped out from a nearby kitchen. “Just be cool and have a seat.” Gordon gestured to a couch before giving me a wink. He spun on his heels and opened his arms. “Harold! Alice! Good to see ya! How have you been?” He strolled into the kitchen.
    I shook my head and chuckled to myself at Gordon’s chameleon-like personality. I knew if he wanted to, he could charm anyone into anything. He reminded me of those crazy guys on TV who desperately tried to con people into buying cars.
    Before Gordon pulled up a chair at the kitchen table, I knew we were in trouble. The man, Harold, who was wearing a straw hat, shook his head. “Nope, can’t take any more. Got no room, ” he grumbled as he took a drag from a thin cigarette.
    I clutched my already crumpled bag and was about to stand up to leave when the lady, Alice, said, “Now, Leo, settle down. He looks like a good kid.” Alice leaned over and gave me a smile. I raised my eyebrows and smiled back.
    “We’re not licensed for boys. You know that, ” Harold stated.
    Gordon butted in. “It’d only be for a few days, just until I can find him another home. I should have a place for him by, let’s say, Monday … Wednesday by the latest. You’d really be doing me, and David, a big favor.”
    “And the papers?” Alice asked.
    Gordon raised a finger. “Uhm … I don’t have them with me, but … I’ll bring them by next week and … we’ll just … we’ll just backlog the dates … Hey, look at the time! I gotta run! Thanks again. I’ll see you next week, ” he said, and fled from the house before Harold and Alice could change their minds.
    I sat glued to the couch, hugging my bag to my chest. I kept my head bent down while Alice and Harold eyed me with caution and crept into the living room. “Well, where’s he going to sleep?” Harold asked in a stern tone. After a small squabble, Alice decided I would share a room with Michelle, a 17-year-old foster child who worked at night. Harold continued to protest, claiming that sharing a room with a young lady was not proper. Trying to make a good first impression, I marched up to him, looked him straight in the eye and shrieked, “Oh, it’s okay! I don’t mind!”
    As the words spilled out, I knew I was in trouble. For the next four nights, I curled up beneath a set of old wool blankets on the living-room couch. I didn’t know why I had made Harold so upset, but at least I had a place to stay. For that, I was thankful.
    The next week, after taking a quick survey of my contents in my grocery bag and waving goodbye