Page 1 of Last Resort

Prologue

The moment his alarm rang, despite the fact that the sun wasn’t quite cresting the horizon, Chance was up. He didn’t have time to waste on snoozing.

He needed to help everyone with breakfast, washing and hair and teeth brushing. Everyone had to be outside for the bus by eight. While the others were eating, he’d check homework and make sure their backpacks were ready to go. Snacks for the younger kids. Change of clothes for the preschool—

“Chance, breakfast is ready!”

Chance froze midway through pulling on his pants and blinked at the darkened room around him.

Hisroom. His alone.

He wasn’t in the group home anymore like he’d been for the past four years. There was no small army of other kids around him. No one he needed to help get out the door every morning.

He was at the Pattersons’ house. He’d been here for five months now.

He finished getting dressed and walked down the stairs. He didn’t need to make breakfast for a bunch of hungry little kids. Sheila had made breakfast forhim.

She smiled at him as he walked in the kitchen. “Pancakes. Strawberries on the side for you. The other boys should be up in a minute. Sit and eat.”

“Um, thanks.” He sat down, still trying to adjust to someone feeding him rather than him being responsible for feeding others. “Do you need help packing lunches or anything?”

Sheila smiled. “Already taken care of. Thank you for asking though.”

Right. Already taken care of.

When Sheila shooed him onward, Chance nodded and sat at the six-seater table in the breakfast nook. The room was silent for less than a minute before the others started trickling in.

“Morning, Mom.” Brax, Sheila and Clinton’s biracial adopted son, kissed Sheila’s cheek as he grabbed his plate and sat down next to Chance. “Thanks for breakfast. I’m starving.”

“Yes, pancakes!” Luke, their adopted White son came in next, taking his plate and shoving a whole pancake in his mouth before he sat down. Chance winced at the painfully large gulp he took to swallow it, but the others just laughed.

“And that’s why I always make yours smaller.” Sheila grinned.

The last ones down were Clinton and Weston, who talked quietly on their way into the kitchen. Weston had arrived a few weeks ago, after Chance. The Black boy hardly ever said anything, and worked out in the garden all the time, but Chance liked him.

He liked Clinton too. Sheila’s husband was big and Black and funny. He was always respectful to Sheila and didn’t yell. He worked as an accountant for some business here in San Antonio.

Sheila joined the rest of the family at the table once they’d all sat down. “Anyone have after-school plans?”

She took a bite of her own pancakes and looked pointedly at Chance’s untouched plate. He’d waited for the rest of them too. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. With a small grin, he took a bite, knowing it was what she wanted.

What would it be like to have Sheila Patterson as a mom? She was Hispanic like him, so they already looked similar.

Sheila and Clinton had started some of the preliminary paperwork for adopting Chance, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

Minds changed. Circumstances changed. Systems changed.

It was why Chance liked to take care of others rather than someone take care of him. That way, ifthings changed, he’d still be okay.

He could take care of himself. He could take care of everyone.

Silence crossed over the table and he looked up, startling when he caught everyone’s eyes on him. He’d missed something.

What were they talking about?Plans.

“I don’t have any plans,” he said when the others kept looking at him. He hadn’t realized they’d been asking him.

“Do you want to come hang out with us? We’re going to a movie,” Luke said, stuffing another pancake in his mouth, only to swallow quickly and painfully again.

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