His words hung in the air for a few moments like a dark cloud. He could see Callie biting her lip.
Callie held out her small hand and grabbed his. He got up to a standing position. Pain nearly doubled him over.
“I believe you, Mac. We need to get help.” Callie’s soft, sweet voice washed over him like the feel of warm rain falling down from the sky in summer.
Even though his back felt like someone was stabbing him, he managed to stand up straight. Putting one foot slowly in front of the other, he followed Callie back up the stairs.
When they reached the upstairs landing Mac was blinded by the light. He slammed his eyes closed. After twenty-four hours in darkness the light felt like a punishment.
The feel of Callie’s warm little hand grasping his own made him feel calm.
“I’m bringing you to a chair.” She tugged gently and led him down the hall.
“Thanks Callie. I just need a few minutes to adjust to the light.”
“Sit down Mac. I’m calling for help.” She helped him sit down in a hard-backed chair.
“No! We can’t call them. They’ll put us in foster homes.” He didn’t care about leaving this sad excuse for a home, but he couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Callie. She was the one constant in his life. The thing that kept him sane in a world of crazy. His best friend.
“If we pack up some things we can run away where they’ll never find us.”
“Mac. I’m only five. And you’re just nine. We’re just kids. It would never work.”
Callie was way wiser than he was. There had always been something about her that radiated wisdom. She was right. There was no way in the world they would be able to make it on their own with no food, no money or no roof over their heads.
Mac leaned forward in the chair as a stabbing pain wracked his right side.
Callie let out a shocked gasp.
“What? What is it?” he asked, afraid that his mother and Frank had returned.
“The back of your shirt has blood on it. From your back sores.”
He slowly opened his eyes as the sound of her muffled cries reached his ears. She had the house phone up to her ear and she was crying.
“Hello. My name is Callie Monahan. I live at 99 Sycamore Street. And my brother is hurt really really bad.”
He bowed his head as he listened to Callie. It was too late to turn back now. They needed someone to throw them a lifeline. Time had run out. There were only so many prayers he could say. And he was all out of bravery.
“Okay.” She looked at Mac. “They said to stay on the line. They’re sending someone to help us.”
Help. He hoped help meant that they would find a good home for them. Together. Away from all the bad stuff. A place where he could lay his head at night on his pillow and know that he wouldn’t be woken up in the middle of the night for beatings or to be placed in the basement. A place where someone other than Callie might love him or tell him that he was a good person. A home where he could sit down at the table and eat a real dinner with family. A safe place where he could rest easy instead of always being afraid.
“What if we can’t stay together?” Callie cried. “What if girls and boys aren’t put together?”
“That won’t happen,” Mac insisted. “Who would separate a sister and a brother?”
More tears gathered in Callie’s eyes. Her lips trembled. “Mac, I’m scared.”
She placed the phone down on the table and ran toward him. She pressed her face against his chest and held on to his arm. The smell of Callie’s lavender shampoo was one of the last things he remembered before the doorbell rang.
He grabbed Callie’s hand and together they walked toward the door. Right before he opened the front door he turned toward his sister, taking a moment to memorize her features. Just as he saw the policeman’s face he had the sinking feeling that nothing in his or Callie’s life would ever be the same again.
Six months later
The click of heels drew Mac’s attention to the woman who had just walked through the door. She was older, with gray hair and glasses. She was dressed all in brown.
The shoes that had made all the noise were beige. A kind smile lit up her face. He didn’t feel like smiling back. She wasn’t fooling him one bit. Everyone pretended to be nice at first, then they hit you over the head with their meanness. He’d seen it time after time.
“Hello, Mac. My name is Mrs. Worther. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I know what you’re going to say,” he jeered.
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh really. Would you like to share it with me?”
“You’re going to tell me that I’m going to a new foster family. And how lucky I am that there are people out there who want to give me another chance.” He stuck his lip out. “Right?”