Page 75 of We Are Yours
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Meaning every last word.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
Isla
An hour later, we were walking into Central Park. I loved it there. It was one of my favorite spots to just chill and hang out with him. Sometimes I’d take the subway and do schoolwork all day. I’d buy a hot dog and a coffee, and I was set for hours. Julius wasn’t a fan of my riding the subway by myself when he wasn’t around, so Kraven would accompany me when he wasn’t busy.
I’d do school and then tutor him. To keep him focused was a challenge, but he was definitely smart. He knew a lot more than he gave himself credit for. Julius claimed I was being a good example to him and appreciated the help in getting his grades up.
Before we left the house, Julius and I packed some lunch, and while feeding the ducks our leftovers, I celebrated, “Oh my God! Do you see that baby duckling? He’s so cute. You know what? We should get ducks.”
He laughed, sitting on the edge of the pond, and I followed suit.
“And where are we going to put these ducks?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but they would be loved.”
He chuckled.
“Maybe we can start with a cat.”
“A cat, yeah?”
“Yeah, a black one, I can name him Salem.”
“You’re a cat person?”
I motioned to myself. “I think this speaks for itself. Besides, they’re easier to take care of than a dog. More independent too.”
“You ever owned a dog?”
I shook my head. “You?”
“Once.”
“Aw, when?”
“I was seven. It lasted about a month. Dad won him in a poker game, and then Mom traded him for drugs.”
I grimaced, hating that sad story. “I’m so sorry I asked.”
“It’s alright.”
“Is it? You never talk about them unless it’s little remarks like that.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have much to say about them.”
“How old were you whe?—”
“Twelve.”
I exhaled. “When I was twelve, I was living in a group home with the most disgusting food out of all of the ones I stayed in. It was so bad that I slept on an empty stomach most nights. They actually had to move me to another facility because I got really thin.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “They definitely don’t spend money on the food. Fosters don’t care for the older kids too much.”
