Several hours later, I woke to the door slowly opening. Blinking in the dim light, I saw Mr. Graves smiling down kindly at me. “How’s the head?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the table.
“Better,” I said truthfully, able to sit up. “What time is it?”
“Lunchtime,” he said, handing me my lunch bag.
“Wow, seriously? I so didn’t mean to sleep half the school day away.”
“It’s no problem, you look much better at least.”
“Ha, thanks.”
“I’ve wanted to talk to you anyway about this,” he said, indicating an overflowing folder on the table next to him.
“What’s that?” I asked, nibbling the corner of my sandwich.
“It’s your school transcripts with feedback from all your teachers over the years.”
“Really?” I asked as my curiosity piqued. I yearned to look inside it. After years of leaving my belongings behind each time we moved, the idea of having something so concrete from my past that proved I actually existed made me want to scoop the folder up and never return it. To actually have a tangible item that could be held was surreal. “What did they all have to say?” I asked, fighting the urge to see for myself.
“Well, they all agree you’re a bright girl, that you’re good-natured and a welcome addition to any classroom. Reading over many of the different comments, though, I see where they show extensive concern over your home life,” he said gently.
I nodded my head, suddenly sick of all the pretenses. He had the proof in his hands anyway. I could only imagine the things some of my more observant teachers might have added over the years.
“It’s bad?” he probed.
I nodded again.
“Do you trust me enough to tell me about it?”
I studied him for a moment, contemplating keeping my mouth closed like I always had, but before I was even aware of doing it, I allowed everything to pour out of me. I told him about the abuse, being homeless, never having enough to eat and even confided my biggest fear that Kevin would someday get caught in the line of fire. All my worries flooded out as if someone had opened up a dam. Mr. Graves sat patiently, without interrupting and when I was finally spent, he commented.
“Katelyn, you are a truly phenomenal person,” he said quietly.
“No I’m not,” I said, ducking my head down in embarrassment.
“Yes, you are. The things you’ve been through and have seen should have beaten you down, but instead you persevered, which is an admirable characteristic.”
“I’ve only persevered for Kevin’s sake,” I said.
“Exactly, you put the needs and wants of your brother ahead of your own. If it wasn’t for your fear of being separated, you would have reported your mom a long time ago, right?”
I nodded.
“See, there you have it. Now we just need to fix your current circumstances. I’m going to put feelers out to see if there are any local foster families that would be willing to take in siblings.”
I started to protest, but he held up his hand.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do it discreetly,” he said. “We only need to get you to eighteen, and then you can petition the courts for custody of Kevin yourself.”
“We only have eighty-nine days until we’re kicked out,” I reminded him. “I’m not sure if Lucinda will wait to for Jim to get released when we get evicted or just move on. Truthfully, I’m surprised she’s still sticking around and hasn’t moved us yet.”
“Will she let you know ahead of time?” he asked, sharing my concern.
“She never has before. Normally, it’s a one-day notice, sometimes less. When we lived in Texas, she woke Kevin and me up after we had only been sleeping for an hour and told us to pack a bag because we were leaving. Most times it was to skip out on rent or bounced checks or something, but it could have been because of that too,” I said, indicating the folder. “Only she knows the real reasons for the hasty moves we’ve made, all I can do is guess.”
He looked disgusted at my words. “So she skips out instead of facing the music,” he said.
“Yep, that sounds about right.”