Page 14 of Corrupt Game

I wasn’t as familiar with San Francisco as I’d been with L.A.

Oh, Andy… Memories assaulted me as I held in the tears. They came unbidden and at the worst times. The darkness made them more vivid now, little slices of my life, with a side of regret.

He’d been the one to leave L.A.

I’d only been to his place twice over the years. Most of the time he’d visit me wherever I was living at the time.

Now that I thought about it, he’d always been the one who reached out. He’d made sure that he was in my life. My heart clenched, and I locked my jaw to prevent my mouth from quivering. I couldn’t sob now.

Protector, older brother, friend, and more, he’d filled so many roles. It hadn’t even occurred to me how much stuff he did for me.

He never let me down.

When I’d had a huge test for a professor that I'd hated and it was a pass or fail for the class, the doorbell would ring.

There Andy would stand with my favorite food—fried dumplings.

“Hey there, Lettie. Got something to help you cram.” He’d hold out the bag to me, shaking it back and forth with his big brother smile. The smile he only shared with me.

The food had helped me to cram for the test, but I’d felt so much better that he’d shown up. I always felt better when Andy was around.

“Give me those flashcards. Let’s make sure that you pass this test.” He’d worked with me most of the night until we’d both crashed, high on knowledge and sugar.

The test hadn’t been nearly as hard as I’d thought, or maybe it was just all the good study help I’d had.

I smiled fondly at the memory.

Andy had always had a way about him that made learning easy. He should have been a teacher. It would have suited him perfectly.

It had never crossed my mind how much he’d given up to be there for me. Not until he was gone.

He'd always known when I'd needed him the most. It was as if he had a radar that alerted him whenever things got sticky. I'd never had to ask or question him. He dropped what he was doing, and he was there.

Before meeting him, there'd been so many homes over the years, they all started to run together.

Every move started with a pattern that I knew in my sleep. Collect all of the things I claimed as mine; clothes, shoes, sometimes a stuffed animal I managed to keep hidden, everything went into the black trash bag.

Foster children didn’t rate suitcases. We had to go with whatever was the most convenient. Sometimes, the only thing we left a home with were the clothes on our back. Nothing was fair in life but I’d gotten used to how the system worked.

The social worker would pull up, I’d get in the car and be taken to a new place. Some were nice. Others weren’t quite as nice, and not just in the type of home or neighborhood.

A shiver went down my back at an unwelcome memory of a few of the homes I’d stayed in.

But the best memory I could ever have was the first time I’d met Andy. Bitterness might have taken over my life if it hadn’t been for him.

It had been my first night in the new home. I'd been so nervous. The situation that I’d been pulled out of wasn’t great. It had made me more cautious.

The first hours after arrival in a new home were always the most vulnerable. Any other children would try to test the new kid to see how much they could get away with. This time had been no different.

Forced into flight or fight situations more times than I could count, I assessed the situation—ready to flee if necessary.

“Guys, knock it off. She shouldn’t have to put up with your pranks until she can get you back with her own.” Andy stepped between me and the other two boys. They were both a lot younger than me, but together, they would have made my life miserable.

I kept my eyes on the ground. It was better to not make eye contact with bullies. They took that as a challenge. I wasn’t in a position to make waves. It was better to just stay in the shadows and not draw attention to myself. I hoped this house would be better than the last, but it was smart to be ready for it to be worse.

Andy noticed my anxiety.“This family is pretty good. It’s not a bad place once you get used to it,” he'd assured me. “They won’t let anything happen to you here.”

Somehow, he’d known that there had been other places where bad things had happened. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He was in the system with me. There wasn't a foster kid that didn’t have a bad placement story to tell.

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