Since the damned thing was hitting my face because he couldn't really see where he was pushing it, I took it from his hands. “Thanks. What’s your name?”
He blinked and then smiled, showing he was missing two front teeth. “Benjamin.”
“Cool.”
Marcus took my bag then gave an envelope to Anne. She opened it and looked inside. Then she squealed for the first time in her life, I believe, and looked at the man with awe.
“It’s too much, Mr. Armstrong. You know it’s too much.” She tried to give it back to him; although I have to admit, her attempts weren't determined.
He just shook his head, snapped his eyes at me, and murmured, “It’s not. You have no idea what you did for us.”
Anne turned to me. “I guess this is it, kiddo. No more trying to find you a home, right?” She even sniffed. Seriously, what was up with her?
“Yeah, I’ll be eighteen soon enough anyway.” I hoped those people weren't strict assholes. She hugged me close, and for a second, I allowed myself to enjoy her arms. Although no good ever came from her efforts, she did try, and she was the one permanent fixture in my life. That had to count for something, right?
“I’ll miss you, kid,” she whispered.
Leaning back, I gave her a cocky smirk. “Hard not to miss me.”
She laughed then went back to check in for her return flight, and with a final wave, I said goodbye to my old life. No matter what, the social workers and foster homes were behind me now.
Benjamin took my hand in his, dragged me after his parents, and chatted all the way to the car. He was talking about his house, how big it was, that it was great to have a sister now, and so on. He was already giving me a headache from all his jabbering.
Once Marcus put my backpack in the trunk, he settled Ben in a car seat, and then fastened the belt over me. Satisfied we were all safe, he jogged around and started the car. It was a nice, big, comfortable car, but since I had no clue about the brands, I couldn't guess how much it cost, except that it was probably a lot.
Meanwhile, Ben’s mouth didn't shut up.
“So, do you like comic books?”
“No.”
He blinked, but then nodded. “I have a lot of comics.”
“Um, okay.” I’d never been in New York before, and the beauty of the city was mesmerizing, so I found it hard to focus on what he was saying. The tall buildings, busy streets, fashion. It was like I stepped into another dimension.
“I can give you some of mine. We can read them together.” The kid was seriously into talking.
“Okay.”
“Then there are cartoons,” he said excitedly, but since my face was glued to the window, he needed to grab my hand and tug on it to get me to look at him again.
“Cartoons?” I repeated stupidly, and he eagerly nodded, which made his hair fall over his eyes. When I leaned over to move it, he smiled again and pushed something into my hand.
“What’s this?” He had given me a sort of card or something with superheroes on it.
“It’s the card for my club.”
“Your club?”
“Yeah, my comics club. We have a room in our house just for all my stuff, and no one can enter,” he whispered in my ear loudly. “Now you can come anytime.” The kid probably had no friends around if he was so into his comics and me.
“Sure.”
“And there is—”
“Ben, baby, give Jane a little break, okay?” Carissa said softly. Although Ben frowned, he nodded. I caught her eyes on me; something in them was hard to describe.
Whatever.
“So, Jane,” Marcus started. “Anne told us you play the drums?”
Music was one part of me no one could take away. I discovered my passion at the age of eleven and never let it go. I watched countless rock shows, studied some instruments in magazines, but had no clue how to use them. They cost money, and classes did too. No one ever had enough money around me.
“No, I don’t. There was no money to study, or to even get an instrument.” Marcus’ hands squeezed tightly on the steering wheel, and I could see in the rearview mirror that his face went grim. Carissa put her hand on his knee, and he instantly relaxed and gave her a sad, pained smile, and said, “You’ll have everything now.”
2 months later
Marcus and Carissa hadn’t lied about the fact I would have whatever I wanted. They were loaded, as in have-a-private-jet loaded. They owned a big penthouse on the Upper East Side (I later found out it was one of the most expensive places in New York) and it had two floors, five bedrooms, a living room and a big kitchen, not to mention a private elevator. They gave me my own room and let me decorate it the way I wanted, and it was an incredible feeling to have this space to myself.