Page 82 of Unloved

“It’s going to be a good day,” I murmur to myself. “It’s going to be a good day.”

“Lennox, are you ready?”

My social worker, Grace, stands in front of me, smiling and holding out her hand. Usually, her presence alone calms me down, but today it doesn’t work.

“It’s going to be a good day,” I repeat under my breath. “It’s going to be a good day.”

“What’s that?” she asks, assuming I’m talking to her.

“Nothing,” I mumble.

“Are you excited?”

Excited.

I know the word. I know what it means. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt true excitement in my life. In fact, I’m certain I don’t know what excitement feels like.

Sadness.

Pain.

Fear.

I know how those things feel, and I feel them often. But excitement? That isn’t a real thing. Just like happiness and smiling. Those are things I heard other kids talk about. Saw other kids do.

Not me.

Not Lennox York.

“Your brother is excited to see you,” she adds.Is excited the only word she knows?“I think you’re going to love living with him.”

I want to laugh, even though I didn’t find anything Grace said funny. Yes, she’s kind and patient and always had tissues and candy on hand when she came for visits, but she’s also a liar.

All adults are.

This isn’t a reunion, this is a convenience. Right place, right time kind of thing, or whatever grown-ups say. There is nowhere else for me to go, and apparently Frankie, my older brother, has been looking for me.

Two birds, one stone and all that.

Nobody really wants me.

My knees continue to bounce, but this time when Grace looks at me, she’s looking at me like she’s sad for me, and that makes me want to cry.

“He’s not going to like me, is he?” I blurt out.

Her eyes go incredibly wide. “Who said that? Of course he’s going to like you. You’re his brother.”

“Yeah but, my mom and dad are my mom and dad and I don’t think they liked me, because they didn’t keep me,” I rush out in a nervous breath. “Maybe it’ll be like that with Frankie.”

She frowns and those sad eyes come back.

“I don’t think it’ll be like that this time.” Grace crouches down in front of me, her green eyes staring right at me. “Sometimes meeting new people is hard. But do you know what I do when I’m in a tough situation?”

I shrug. “What?”

She leans forward, as if it’s the world’s biggest secret. “Sometimes,” she starts. “When I’m super scared or super nervous, I close my eyes.” She taps her index finger on each of my eyes, forcing me to close them. “I close my eyes and then I count.

“One Mississippi,” she whispers. “Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Now you do it, and take a deep breath in between each one, okay?”

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