Page 19 of Personal Foul
Every step we take walking through the hall, then out to the car, my body is on hyperalert.
We drop off our lanyards at the front desk, and I’m quickly checking the notifications on my phone when Colson grabs my forearm, an attempt to get my attention.
My brows furrow, following his line of sight to where Isaac sits cross-legged on the curb.
“I think that’s Isaac.”
What is he doing outside by himself? I no more think the words before Colson is speaking them out loud.
“I thought all of the kids had to stay inside until their parents picked them up.”
Colson jogs over toward him, crouching down near him.
The Miami sun is beaming down on us. The parking lot is quieter than it had been earlier, many of the kids having gone home, leaving only a few cars left in the parking lot.
My eyes scan the parking lot, my heart thumping in my chest. My stomach churns, anxiety settling over me. I breathe out a slow breath, attempting to calm my racing thoughts, fearing what could’ve happened to him out here alone.
“What are you doing out here alone, bud? I thought your ride was picking you up,” Colson asks.
“She’s late, like usual.”
“Who are you waiting for? Do you want to use my phone?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m sure she’ll be here soon. Even if I did call, she probably won’t answer. She never picks up, she always lets it ring and ring off the hook.”
“Who is she?”
“Cheryl, my foster guardian.”
To hear him use those words feels like a flash to the past I hated to experience.
I was used to calling my foster parents as my guardian or by their first name, until I met my parents. I never felt comfortable enough to refer to them as more than someone who is merely looking after me. It was inevitable our time together would end, and they weren’t truly my mom or dad to begin with. To hear him refer to her as his guardian though, it’s like he reached into my chest and gripped my heart in his small fist.
“We’ll sit with you. How does that sound?” I smile, lightly touching his arm. I move to take a seat next to him, remembering how I felt at his age, hating when everyone drew attention to me but also never wanting to be alone.
Even when I’d tell people, “it’s okay” or “don’t worry about me,” I had always wished someone would. I would’ve given anything to have someone reassure me they wanted to stay and promise me I wasn’t inconveniencing them by watching over me.
Eventually, as I grew older, I wanted to take care of myself, alone.
“Are you excited to go back to school?”
He taps his foot on the ground, folding his arms around his bended knees. Colson joins us on the curb, sitting on the other side of him.
Isaac stares at the ground, using the rubber soles of his shoes to move the sand and rocks lining the edge of the road into a small pile.
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t mind coming here during the day, but I like school, too. It’s fun.”
“What’s your favorite class?”
He stares out over the parking lot, his eyes squinting while he considers his answer before turning to me. With a grin, he says, “Umm… probably science. Or gym. Definitely gym.”
I do everything I can to hide how bothered I am by the fact his ride isn’t here. Colson motions to me he’s going to head inside to see if he can get a hold of someone.
I toss him a subtle nod, keeping my attention on Isaac while he tells me about one of his science projects he worked on last year. They had a unit on tornadoes. His eyes light up as he talks about watching the water swirl between two soda bottles, creating a tornado-like motion.
In the back of my mind though, it’s like a clock is ticking away, wondering how much time has passed since he was supposed to be picked up. My heart aches thinking how he must feel being left here. A few minutes later, Colson strides out of the building toward us when a dark blue minivan pulls up.
You can see how Isaac’s mood shifts from being happy and enthusiastic in recounting his science project, to having all those feelings deflate right out of him.
