Page 125 of Yes No Maybe

“Definitely Mario Kart,” Reggie says with authority.

The doorbell chimes. We all go still.

Jack and I lock eyes across the room, and I’m unsure who smiles first.

He claps with celebrity-level excitement. “Let’s meet Adam.”

We hold hands as we open the door—a subconscious comfort that’s become another one of ourthings.

Mira greets us with an uneasy smile. She has first-day jitters, too. I understand why—Adam’s blue eyes are angry slits, and his lips form a pinched line as he stares straight ahead.

“Adam, say hello to Rowan and Jack,” she says with her soft Mom voice.

“We’re glad you’re here, Adam,” I say.

Jack extends his hand to encourage a low-five or a handshake. “Put her there, Adam.”

He hugs his chest, looking toward Mira unsurely.

“Let’s go inside, huh?” she suggests.

We move aside, letting them go first. We give Adam space as he looks around. Mom and Reggie wave from the kitchen like giddy schoolchildren spotting their friends on the playground.

Adam doesn’t respond to that either. He’s eight but doesn’t look like it. His body is lanky and thin, and a head shorter than children his age. His blond hair is flat from improper washing. His arms are littered with unruly scars—wounds that have gone untreated. Long, lumpy slashes stand out on his cheeks as if someone Zorro-ed him, and my heart swells with empathy. I suddenly understand why Mira fought so hard to place him with us.

“Well, I’m Christine, and this is Reggie,” Mom says, unable to tolerate the silence. “We’re your foster grandparents. Are you hungry?”

They rummage over her Target raid, opening cookies and snacks.

Adam ignores them. His eyes fix on me, and his anger switches to curiosity. He follows my scars with a tilt of his head. Instinctively, I want to hide, but I hold my hand out instead, like a discovery for him to examine. Then, I tuck my hair behind my ear so he can see the unusual terrain of my neck.

We have scars in common, after all.

His anger returns, glaring at Jack beside me. “Did he do that to you?”

The tension in the room upticks with the outrageous suggestion, but I focus on Adam and offer a warm smile. Sadly, it’s a reasonable question from his perspective.

“No.” I ease into the chair beside him, bringing us eye level. “When I was fifteen, a disturbed person took his anger out on me. For a long time, it made me angry, too. We can’t help how people hurt us. We can only hope to be better people and for something good to come out of it. Like you… being here. It might be hard to believe, but most people aren’t violent. No one here will ever hurt you. I promise.”

His arms fall away from his chest, and with an uneasy breath, he latches onto me. His sudden embrace nearly pulls me from the chair’s edge, but I firm my position. He feels so small against me, but his relief is enormous, filling me up and spreading through the room.

Slowly, he pulls away and seems embarrassed, as if needing love is a weakness. I meet his sheepish look with an assuring smile. “Adam, you’re safe and exactly where you belong. Now, please, tell me you’re hungry.”

He allows a weak nod, and the room breaks into action.

“I’ll heat the pizza oven,” Jack says before hesitating. “You like pizza, right?”

Adam nods, staying close and observing the activity like a lost tourist in the wrong country by mistake.

“We have cookies and Cheetos!” Mom pulls bowls from the cabinets.

“Chex Mix, too. That’s my favorite,” Reggie says.

“Don’t worry,” I say, leaning near his ear. “They’ll calm down.”

A tiny smile perks his thin lips. I know then—I love him. He seems to know that, too. He grabs my hand as I stand like he doesn’t want me to get lost in the shuffle.

But as the evening continues, he drifts from my side in small doses. To Mom and Mira first. But eventually, to Jack and Reggie when they play Mario Kart. Adam has never played, but it doesn’t take long for him to adore that, too.

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