* * *
My mother was in her nightgown and robe in the kitchen when we got home. My brother, Chance, and the two foster kids who were living with us at the time (Cameron and Nick) were in the family room playing Diablo. My dad wasn’t home. He played poker with his friends on Friday nights. My mom and the guys all dropped whatever they were doing when I brought Jason into the house.
My mom went into mothering mode. She stuck Jason in the bathroom with fresh towels and a change of clothes. While Jason was showering, she heated up some frozen pizza. She shooed the guys and me into Chance’s bedroom to put new sheets on the extra bed. Chance was always complaining because I was the only one in the house who got her own bedroom. He always had to share. Our house had four bedrooms. At times, we had as many as three guys in one bedroom, and at Christmas, the house became a crowded madhouse. My older brothers came home. Many of my parents’ previous foster children came home. There were guys sleeping everywhere. On the couches. On air mattresses. On the floors in bedrooms. And the bathrooms were a mess. They were covered with shaving cream and hair gel and bottles of cologne. Guys had just as many grooming products as girls these days.
I was used to the frenetic atmosphere of my house. After we made up a bed for Jason, and the other guys donated various articles of clothing to him, which we piled next to his bed, we all went back to the living room. Toby had stuck around for a little bit, helping my mother in the kitchen to make hot chocolate and set the dining room table. He joined us too.
The guys couldn’t shut up. Chance made Toby and I retell the story of how we picked up Jason at least four times. Nick was convinced that Jason had escaped from prison. Cameron thought he was a drug dealer and had sold someone bad stuff.
“He says he’s not on the run from the police,” said Cameron.
“He’s lying,” said Chance. “Nobody runs like that unless they’re on the run from the police.”
“Oh, like you’d know,” said Nick, shoving Chance playfully. My parents adopted Chance when he was five. He’d lived a pretty normal life, unlike Nick, who had rattled around in the foster system for years. Nick was fifteen, like Chance.
“Whatever,” said Chance. “Like you’ve ever run from the police.”
“I have,” volunteered Cameron.
“Yeah, but you did it in a car,” I pointed out.
“I think he’s running from the authorities,” said Toby. “I think that Jason guy is bad news.”
I glared at him. “Yeah, you wanted to leave him on the side of the road.”
“He wanted to be left on the side of the road,” said Toby.
“Because the police are after him,” said Nick. “That’s the only reason he wouldn’t want to come back here. If he was running from some guy who bought drugs from him, he wouldn’t want us to turn him in.”
“I don’t think he’s a drug dealer,” I said.
“Why not?” asked Nick.
“If he dealt drugs around here, why wouldn’t we know him? Why wouldn’t he go to our school?” I said.
“He doesn’t need to go to school, because he makes bank selling drugs,” said Cameron.
“No way,” I said. “Something bad was after him. He was terrified.”
“It was the police,” said Toby. “I should call my dad and ask if there’s an APB out on this guy.” Toby’s dad was the local sheriff.
“Don’t you dare,” I said to Toby. “I promised him he’d be safe here.”
“And for all you know, you’re protecting a criminal,” said Toby.
“Oh,” said Chance pointedly, “hi , Jason.”
Jason was standing in the doorway to the living room, wearing a pair of Chance’s pants—they were too short—and a t-shirt. His hair was still wet from the shower. He’d shaved. He looked better now that he wasn’t dirty, but he still looked flighty, as if he might run at any second. His eyes darted around the room, as if he was checking for the exit if he needed it.
Toby looked embarrassed. “Hey,” he said. “I didn’t mean ...”
I bounded up from the couch. “My mom’s making pizza,” I said. “You hungry?” I took Jason’s arm and led him into the dining room.
I gestured to a seat at the table. It had been set with paper plates and napkins. There was a steaming pot of hot chocolate in the center of the table and a cluster of mugs.
Jason stared at the table. “Look, I should go,” he said. “I really shouldn’t—”
“Sit down,” I interrupted him.
He hesitated for another second, but then he sat down.
I smiled at him. “Everything’s gonna be fine. You’ll see. You want some hot chocolate?”
“Okay,” said Jason.
I poured two mugs full of hot chocolate and handed one to Jason. I took the other one and sat down across the table from him.
“So, um, Toby is your boyfriend?” asked Jason.
“Yeah,” I said.
“And he thinks I’m a criminal?”
I rolled my eyes. “He’ll come around. Don’t worry about it.”
“I-I’m not,” said Jason. “You know. A criminal.” His eyes nervously searched the room again. Did he think something was going to jump out and get him at any second?
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s safe here.”
Jason put down his hot chocolate. “No,” he said. “It’s not.”
At that moment, my mother swept into the room, carrying a pizza. Using her amazing mothering skills, she slid the pot holder off her hand and set the pizza on top of it in one fluid movement, all without burning herself. “Jason,” she said. “You’re out of the shower.”
He nodded.
My mother surveyed him. “Chance’s clothes are a little too small for you, but he’s the biggest of the boys we’ve got in the house. We’ll have to see if Noah left anything in the closet. I think Noah’s about your size.” Noah was one of my adopted brothers.
“This is really fine,” said Jason. “Thank you.”
“Oh, please,” said my mother. “Anyone who found you would have done the same thing.” She turned to me. “Zaza, there’s another pizza on the counter. Can you bring it into the dining room for me?”
I nodded and ducked into the kitchen, listening as my mother called, “Boys! Pizza!”
By the time I got back into the dining room with the second pizza, the first one had already been divvied up between the boys at the table. I set the second pizza down amid scrabbling amongst the guys for hot chocolate. Mom and I each took a piece of pizza from the second pie in a civilized fashion.
I sat down and looked across the table at Jason. There were two pieces of pizza on his plate, but he was just staring at them.
“Don’t you like pizza?” I asked him.
He gazed around the table, watching the other guys shove pizza into their mouths and tease each other. “I’ve just never...” he trailed off. “I love pizza.” And he smiled. Like the time he laughed, it looked kind of like he wasn’t used to smiling. It was a tentative smile. It flashed across his face for a second, lighting him up. Then it was gone. And he dug into the pizza.
My dad came home around then, and my mom took him into the living room to explain the situation. Toby decided to leave. He had his own curfew to make, and he said eating the pizza had made him tired. So finally, all the pizza was gone, and we sat around the table: my parents, Chance, the guys, Jason, and me.
“So, Jason,” said my dad, “are you in some kind of trouble?”
Everyone at the table gazed at Jason expectantly.
Jason looked at my dad. “I tried to tell Azazel that I don’t think it’s safe for your family if I’m here. She insisted I come back here anyway.”
“Why don’t you think it’s safe?” asked my dad.
“The people who are after me are... They can be dangerous. I don’t want to lead them here.”
“Who’s after you?” asked my dad.
“It’s someone you sold bad drugs to, isn’t
it?” asked Cameron.
“Cameron,” warned my dad.
“Sorry,” said Cameron. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, “Do you sell drugs, though? I mean, Nick and I have a bet.”
“That isn’t very polite, Cameron,” said my mother. “What kind of consequences do you think a comment like that is going to have?”
“Probably unproductive,” Cameron sighed.
“Probably,” said my mother.
“It’s okay,” said Jason. “I don’t sell drugs.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to give you too many details. That could put you in further danger. But the people who are chasing me, they’re fanatics. They believe what they believe entirely. They’re ready to die for it. They’re ready to kill for it. And they think I’m in the way.”