Page 11 of We Redeemed the Rain

I followed the thin black lines between the white tiles with my gaze, suddenly uncomfortable.

“I know I’m making a big assumption here, but I’m going to say it anyway…Our school counselor, Miss Simone, is fabulous. If you’ve ever been alone like you described…well, you should consider talking to her.”

For a moment, I just blinked at her, surprised she got a little view of my life through a one page description of loneliness. Maybe I should’ve picked something safer to describe, like eating broccoli.

“Yes, ma’am.” I stood from my chair.

My backpack had spilled some of its contents under my chair. When I crouched to scoop it all up, Miss Greta gasped. As exhausted as I was, I didn’t realize the back of my chair had a loose screw that hooked the hem of my shirt. So when I crouched, my shirt lifted.

There happened to be a bit of evidence on my sun-starved skin that Mama and Sloan were back together. He didn’t always leave marks, but that time, he did. I craved my teacher’s respect and there I was, unintentionally proving how worthless I was.

Very few things embarrassed me. Most of life’s little oops moments were no sweat off my brow. But that—Miss Greta getting a full view of my side—humiliated me. It felt like a flashing neon sign.

I am nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing.

She cleared her throat as I jerked the fabric down.

“Sam, what happened?”

Because I didn’t think anyone would see it, I hadn’t made up a lie. The first thing that popped into my mind was, “football.”

One look at her face, and I knew she didn’t buy my answer. She checked the door to make sure no one was listening. When she spoke, her voice was strained and quiet. “Is that the honest to God truth?”

Her blue gaze held mine, frantically searching, welling tears betraying her silent suspicions.

She saw me.

Her regard crumbled my walls in one fell swoop. I didn’t realize how hungry I was for a moment like that until it happened to me. I wanted someone—anyone—to see what I was incapable of showing and hear what I was incapable of saying.

The weight of what I carried finally crushed me. I couldn’t hold up my façade. I couldn’t keep my face straight. I couldn’t stay strong. Hell, I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

I fell apart.

Right there on the black and white tile in the Language Arts room. She crouched down beside me as the second period bell rang.

I ended that school day curled up under a fleece blanket on a bean bag chair in Miss Simone’s office as Child Protective Services was called.

It was the dawn of our salvation.

Miss Greta and Miss Simone were good women—passionate for justice, full of love for the students, and mandated reporters.

And they reported those bruises like any decent human beings would do.

The following weeks were the most turbulent of my life. They passed in a blur. I lost track of the number of meetings I was in with adults who asked so many questions. My insides were numb to it all, empty. When they asked me point blank about my abuse, I couldn’t remember what had happened to me. Pretty sure the only thing I ever really disclosed was that Cooper and I were hungry. And that Sloan liked locking me in the coat closet.

Despite my lack of details, it didn’t take long for CPS to discover Mama’s severe drug and alcohol abuse problem and the resulting neglect of her children. When they knocked on our front door, Mama opened it—high as a kite. Next thing I knew, Mama and Sloan were escorted into the back of a police car, my possessions were gathered up into a big black trash bag, and the two of us were placed in emergency foster care.

Thankfully, we stayed with a kind elderly couple. A little eccentric, but good people. The go-to options—Cooper’s dad, Greg, or Randi’s family—wouldn’t take us.

I was relieved to leave home, but Cooper was devastated. I didn’t understand it.

For the first time in eighteen months, I felt like I could breathe. But Cooper was having daily meltdowns and tantrums and overall just being a big baby about the whole ordeal. I felt angry at him. Now, I realize Cooper was just doing his best to cope. He didn’t know what to do with his feelings so they spilled out and burned everyone in the vicinity. I should’ve been more patient with him.

We were different. I sealed feelings in, he forced them out. I built walls, he obliterated boundaries. I didn’t trust anyone, but he clung toevery heartbeat that walked by. Those days strained our relationship as brothers.

Eventually, a permanent decision was made: we would finish out the school year then be relocated to the only place that ever felt like home.

Meadowbrook Ranch.

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