Run to Me Read online

  ‘Hell, no. Usually it’s worse.’

  She pursed her lips at him.

  ‘Go ahead and sit down if you want,’ Zack said, warming to the game of baiting them.

  ‘We’ll stand, thank you.’

  ‘You sure? They could be a while. It’s pay week and they usually stay till closing. Unless Frank gets in a fight, of course, and gets kicked out before that.’

  The man had moved to one of the doors that opened off the living room. Zack watched him survey the rickety bunk bed and single mattress on the floor of his bedroom. With his fancy clothes and slicked back hair he looked like some kind of trendy businessman. Up this close he even smelled clean. What would he think of the dirty clothes that littered the floor, the bedding that hadn’t been changed in months?

  The woman stood eyeing him. ‘How did you get that bruise on your cheek?’

  ‘Baseball. A pitch came back at me.’

  ‘So you’re a pitcher, eh?’ Westgate swung away from the door. ‘Bit late in the season for baseball, isn’t it? Would’ve thought you’d be playing football in September.’

  ‘Like I’m really big enough to play football.’

  The man stepped closer and lowered his voice. ‘That’s not how you got the bruise, is it, son?’

  Zack said nothing. It wasn’t that he wanted to cover for Frank, it was that he didn’t know whether he could trust these strangers any better.

  The man waited a moment longer then, realising he wasn’t going to get an answer, moved to the next door. ‘Hello, boys, I’m Mr Westgate. It’s okay, you go right on eating; we’re just having a look around.’

  Zack hurried over to stand beside him. He was starting to regret having let the pair in. Social workers or not, dump or not, he felt suddenly resentful of these smartly dressed strangers poking through the house.

  Westgate scanned the kitchen from the safety of the doorway – the dish-choked sink, the grimy stove, the cascading rubbish bin – ending with the plate of crackers on the table.

  ‘Ritz and Cheese Wiz,’ he said to the boys. ‘That your dinner?’

  Reece and Corey, frozen with crackers poised at their lips, looked to Zack.

  ‘Yeah, that’s dinner,’ he answered for them. ‘We’re fresh out of lobster.’ He took the man’s arm and pulled him back into the living room. ‘I think you better go and come back tomorrow.’

  ‘We’d like to ask you a few more questions, if that’s okay,’ the woman said.

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you anymore.’

  ‘Come on, Zack, help us out here.’ Westgate flashed him a kid’s-best-friend smile. ‘If you do the right thing we might be able to get you and the others out of here.’

  Zack felt his cheeks get hot. Where were these people when there wasn’t even crackers and Cheese Wiz to eat? When Julie spent days drunk on the couch? When Frank went apeshit and knocked them around?

  ‘What if we don’t want to leave?’

  The man gaped at him. ‘You can’t . . . I mean . . .’ His smile returned. ‘You don’t understand. I’m saying we can get you out of here for good.’

  ‘And take us where? Some other dump? Some other family that doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us?’

  Zack turned away. Bad Boy Ballinger strikes again. If he could only learn to control that side of him – the part that was like a whole other person inside his head, the agro punk who never took shit, no matter who from – maybe he wouldn’t keep getting sent to places like this.

  Westgate leaned down, his expression softened to one of sympathy. ‘I know the system’s failed you in the past, son, but I give you my word –’

  The promise was cut off by shouts from the kitchen. ‘Little shits! What are you doing with those?’

  Zack heard Corey yell his name then Reece give a shriek. The next instant both boys burst into the living room, ran towards him and hid behind his back.

  Franklin J. Leary waddled out after them, stumbled to a halt and stared dumbly at the strangers in front of him. Before he could speak, Julie swayed through the door behind him. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Frank and Julie Leary?’

  ‘Who the hell are you?’

  The pair introduced themselves and showed their IDs.

  A series of expressions crossed Frank’s face – confusion, surprise, fear, hostility – then he turned and shot Zack a look so savage it made him step back.

  Corey reached up and tugged at his arm. ‘Zack, what’s happening?’

  ‘Dunno, just listen.’

  Westgate cleared his throat. ‘Mr and Mrs Leary, I’ll come straight to the point. Our department has received a number of calls from concerned individuals regarding the treatment and condition of the boys in your care.’

  Frank and Julie spluttered in outrage. ‘What goddamn individuals?’ Frank demanded.

  ‘That’s confidential. All you need to know is that, upon our initial inspection of these premises, we’ve found those reports largely substantiated.’

  ‘Aw, now come on.’ The ingratiating smile looked like a grimace on Frank’s round face. ‘You don’t want to go believing everything these fellas tell you. They’re just kids.’

  ‘The boys told us very little, Mr Leary. They didn’t have to.’ The woman glanced around in disgust.

  ‘Well, sure, the place is a mess at the moment.’ Frank waved a hand. ‘My wife’s been sick. It isn’t like this all the time.’

  ‘It’s more than just the state of the house,’ Westgate said.

  ‘The food, is that it? You’re wondering why there’s nothing to eat? Well, hell, I only got the cheque today. We just haven’t done the shopping yet, that’s all.’ Frank took in the man’s doubting expression. ‘All right, I’ll admit we may have let a few things slide. But we’ll take care of everything the minute you leave. I give you my word.’

  When Westgate said nothing, Frank exhaled. ‘There, see? All sorted out. So what happens now? Some kind of slap on the wrist, I suppose.’

  Westgate glowered. ‘It’s going to be more than that, I’m afraid. For starters your support payments are hereby terminated.’

  ‘What? You can’t do that!’

  ‘In fact we can. What’s more, once our report has been processed these boys will be removed from your care and you’ll be banned from ever fostering children again.’

  Zack heard Corey gasp behind him. ‘What did he say?’

  Reece grabbed his other arm. ‘Are we getting out of here?’

  ‘Shut up, I’m tryin’ to listen.’ The excitement in their voices made Zack think twice. He hadn’t believed Westgate the first time he’d said it, but maybe there was a chance he was telling the truth.

  Frank sneered. ‘Aw, you mean I don’t get to wipe no more snotty noses and listen to all their pissing and moaning?’

  ‘I said those measures were for starters, Mr Leary. Once we conduct a full investigation there’s a good chance criminal charges will be laid.’

  So much colour drained from Frank’s face, Zack thought he was having a stroke. Though the house was cold, sweat broke out on his fleshy features. He swept a plump hand over his cue-ball head.

  Stepping towards Westgate, he lowered his voice. ‘All right, look, you know that cheque we got today? We ain’t spent more than a hundred of it. The rest is yours.’ He whispered an amount. ‘If you just . . . well . . . tweak that report a bit.’

  Zack slumped. No way Westgate would turn that down.

  Silence engulfed them. Westgate looked at Zack and the boys. Some kind of change came over his face. Here it was then. In a minute he’d walk out, leaving the three of them to face Frank’s fury.

  Westgate drew a steadying breath. ‘Mr Leary, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you do a spell in prison. However, if we proceed through the proper channels, these boys might have to remain in your care for as much as another week. I don’t know if I could live with myself if I let that happen.’

  Frank frowned. ‘What are you saying?’
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br />   The man pulled some papers out of his briefcase. ‘If you and Mrs Leary would sign this form, agreeing to let us take the boys now, tonight . . .’ he hesitated, as though his next words were distasteful to him, ‘I won’t report either your attempted bribe or the more serious offences I’ve witnessed here.’

  Frank’s eyes widened. ‘Shit, yeah, I’ll sign that right now!’

  ‘You understand the other conditions still apply.’ The woman produced a pen from her bag. ‘Your payments are terminated and you’ll never foster children again.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I get it, we’re off your Christmas list.’ Frank passed the form and pen to his wife. With a final burst of swearing he turned and stormed back into the kitchen. A moment later Julie followed him.

  ‘He signed it,’ Reece whispered. ‘What does that mean?’

  Westgate slipped the form back into his case. ‘It means you don’t have to stay with these people any more. It means you can leave here with us right now and we’ll find you another place to live.’

  Corey and Reece slowly emerged from behind Zack’s back. Their grips on his arms had grown positively painful.

  Reece looked around him. ‘Will it be better than this?’

  ‘Absolutely. There’ll be nice beds, decent clothes and plenty to eat.’

  ‘Will we get to stay together?’ Corey murmured.

  The man considered this. ‘You boys have been through a lot together, huh?’

  The younger two nodded.

  ‘Well then, we can’t let anyone separate you, can we? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you stay together.’

  At their glowing smiles, Westgate straightened. ‘Now go and get your things so we can get out of here.’

  ‘Don’t worry about clothes,’ the woman added. ‘Just grab anything special that’s yours.’

  Corey and Reece raced into the bedroom. Zack stood his ground, gazing at Westgate.

  ‘Nothing you want to take with you, son?’

  He shook his head.

  At his unflinching scrutiny, Westgate winked. ‘Didn’t I tell you I’d get you out of here?’

  Zack stared back. Why didn’t he feel the excitement the others did? Was it something he could see in these people they couldn’t? Or was it all the broken promises that had gone before?

  The younger boys charged back into the room, Reece in his treasured Red Sox sweatshirt, its pockets bulging with baseball cards – the only things his mom hadn’t hocked before she’d OD’ed. Corey clutched Ali, the Kermit-green alligator his dad had given him before he’d walked out that final time.

  Taking Zack’s hands, they followed their rescuers out into the night.

  Chapter 3

  They drove for an hour, ending up in a quiet neighbourhood where street lights illuminated tidy yards and people walked poodles and golden retrievers.

  ‘It’s too late to drive to the shelter tonight,’ Westgate said as he and Ms Knowles led them up the path to a two-storey house. ‘We’ll sleep here and head off first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Don’t worry, there are plenty of beds upstairs so you can all share a room,’ the woman added.

  Through the front door was an open area – dining table on the left, darkened living room off to the right, between them stairs to the second floor.

  ‘Here you are, boys. Make yourselves comfortable,’ the woman said. When the younger two simply clung to Zack’s arms, the woman bent down and fluffed Corey’s hair. ‘Aren’t you just the cutest thing? Look at these curls!’

  He squirmed with delight. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘You mean my first name? It’s Vanessa. You can call me that instead if you like.’

  ‘Me too?’ Reece added.

  ‘Well sure.’ She pointed at Westgate. ‘And his name is Phil.’

  ‘What about him?’ Zack nodded to a figure he could just make out in the shadows of the living room. He sensed more than saw that the man was watching them.

  ‘That’s Mr Tragg,’ Westgate answered. ‘He isn’t part of our child-caring team so best not to bother him.’

  ‘If he’s not one of you then why’s he here?’

  ‘He helps out in other ways.’

  Vanessa clapped her palms together. ‘So who wants a sandwich? We have peanut butter, bologna, cheese, ham . . .’

  Her voice sounded phoney-cheerful to Zack but it worked well enough on Reece and Corey. They let go of his hands for the first time since leaving the Learys’ and stood staring up at her all goo-goo eyed. As they told her what they wanted, Zack looked around.

  Another strange house. How he hated this feeling. He’d been in so many these last three years. Smells were the worst. Even when they weren’t bad they were creepy and somehow they always brought on his dreams.

  The nightmare was always the same – a remnant from the one time he’d visited a pound. Only in his dream it wasn’t dogs in the cages, it was boys. And when the attendant came and hauled him out, dragged him outside to the idling truck – the one with the hose that ran from the tail pipe up into the little box at the back – that’s when he woke, gasping and choking and drenched in sweat.

  He’d had his own home once upon a time. And if not a full family at least a mom. But unlike Reece and Corey – and most other foster kids he had met – his mother hadn’t been forced to give him up. His mother hadn’t been an addict or a drunk. She simply hadn’t wanted him any more.

  Oh, she’d said she did, but that was a lie. If it was true, she’d never have agreed to marry Paul. She’d have told him to go fuck himself when he said he didn’t want her bastard, that he wanted to start a family of his own. But no, she caved in, put her own son in foster care – swearing up and down she’d come back and get him some day – then went off and got herself killed in a car crash. The only good thing about it all was that Paul died, too.

  ‘Now before you eat I want you all to have a nice hot bath and put on the pyjamas I laid out for you.’ Vanessa was herding them towards the staircase. ‘Throw your clothes in the big plastic bag. We’ve got new ones for you and you’ll get them tomorrow. The bathroom’s upstairs on the right. Go on up and I’ll call you when your sandwiches are ready.’

  Reece and Corey took off at once.

  Zack stood his ground. ‘How’d you guys know to have all this stuff here? How’d you know to have pyjamas and clothes and beds all ready for us?’

  The woman’s smile didn’t light up her eyes. ‘This is what’s called a safe house. We use it as a temporary shelter for lots of children so we always have clothes and other things on hand. Now why don’t you go up and look after your brothers?’

  ‘Isn’t that your job?’

  The smile vanished.

  ‘Now, listen here, buddy.’ Westgate stepped forward.

  ‘Yeah, I’m going; don’t blow a gasket.’

  The tub was half-filled when Zack reached the bathroom. Corey and Reece, their clothes strewn from one end of the room to the other, were seated inside it, madly frothing the water with their hands to create more bubbles.

  What were they so damn happy about? Didn’t they realise there was every chance they’d end up in a place just as bad as, if not worse than, the Learys’? No, probably not, since the Learys’ was the only foster home they had known.

  Zack began picking up their clothes and shoving them into the rubbish bag. ‘Knock it off, will ya? You’re getting water all over the place!’ He’d worked his way across the floor before noticing the others now seemed too quiet. He straightened and turned.

  A stranger stood in the doorway. Bigger than Westgate with pock-marked skin and dark flat eyes. This had to be Tragg, the guy from the living room.

  Zack side-stepped in front of the tub.

  The man moved past him without a word, lifted the toilet seat, unzipped his pants and started to pee. Looking over, he smiled at the three of them frozen and staring. Their silence only amused him further and he let out a laugh.

  ‘Zack?’ Corey’s voice quavered a little.
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  ‘Just stay there.’

  Tragg shook himself, zipped up his pants and turned to face them. From the breast pocket of his shirt he pulled out a box of Junior Mints and opened the lid.

  Again amusement tugged at his lips. ‘Want some candy, little boys?’ Then he shook out a mint, tossed it in his mouth and left the room laughing.

  Zack exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

  ‘He’s creepy,’ Corey whispered.

  ‘Yeah, and ugly.’ Reece made a face in imitation and Corey gave a nervous giggle.

  ‘Hey, don’t make fun of Hatchet Face; you might hurt his feelings.’ Zack pulled an even uglier face and the next thing the boys were laughing again.

  Reece and Corey seemed to have forgotten their run-in with Tragg by the time they all sat down to dinner. It helped, Zack was sure, that the man had once again retreated to the living room and was nowhere in sight. But the incident had left him vaguely unsettled, and more than ever he wanted to learn all he could about these people.

  ‘What time are we leaving in the morning?’ he said.

  Vanessa stood, pouring them each some milk. ‘Well, we’re not exactly sure we’ll be leaving tomorrow. It depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On whether the shelter has room for you. At the moment they’re full.’

  ‘There’s more than one place that could take us though, isn’t there? They can’t all be full.’

  Before she could answer, a hand shot over Zack’s shoulder and snatched half the sandwich off his plate. The sharp scent of mint was suddenly in the air.

  He looked up to find Tragg standing over him.

  ‘Kid’s right. There ought to be room at each place for one of them. Easiest thing is to just split ’em up.’

  As protests erupted from Corey and Reece, the man pushed the sandwich wedge in his mouth, chewed and swallowed it, holding Zack’s gaze the entire time.

  Vanessa had finished settling the others by the time Tragg walked back into the living room. ‘Don’t worry, Zack. If we have to stay here an extra day you’ll have plenty to eat and lots to do.’

  Zack nodded, grabbed his milk and took a big gulp.