Fallout (Crank 3)

and gray. I haven’t yet shaken the chill.

Ms. Shreeveport gave me a three-day

reprieve, time for an early Christmas

celebration. So much to celebrate

and all. I didn’t tell Kyle when I called

him. Wanted to do that face-to-face.

We were actually belly-to-belly on

the seat of his truck when I started

to cry. “Hold me. I don’t want to go.”

I can’t hold you much tighter.

And you’re not going anywhere.

“Yes. I am. They’re taking me

to Fresno. To a new foster home.”

He looked down into my eyes.

When? How long have you known?

“Day after tomorrow. I just found

out yesterday. It’s because of Dad.”

He brushed the hair away from

my face. Dried my cheeks with

the back of his hand. Shook his

head. I can’t let you go. Not now.

You make life worth living.

If you leave, I have nothing.

I lifted my face. Kissed him.

“I don’t have a choice. It’s all set

up. I start school at Roosevelt

after vacation.” He slumped down

on me. Heavy. Weighted. Then

he started to cry. This is fucked up.

Which made me cry more too.