Sequel: Running With Scissors ›
Those Worse Off Than You
Part 74
That summer was about to become the most exciting season I would ever pursue. While school just wasn’t over yet, and Angel still attended it, Ace and I only saw him after four o’clock during the week. But every Saturday was always reserved for a movie, walk, or trip to the local mall.
Apparently, Ace’s father was in rehab- trying to get clean to that he could gain custody of him. I already knew Ace wasn’t happy about it. He told me about how his father had already been in rehab many times... it never worked. He said that he always ended up on something within a month of being released. I regretted seeing a worried expression loom over Ace’s face after the moment he was told about it.
Ace didn’t want to be at the Care Centre, he didn’t want to be in foster care... and he didn’t want to be at home. There weren’t many more options- he would end up on the street if he didn’t decide soon.
Angel didn’t look like much. He was still scrawny- his clothes still bagged over him, and his cheekbones still stuck out from under his glasses. But he was doing exceptionally well. He almost ate more than Ace and I together and he had been clean for almost six months. His smile always shone, making the light of any moment, and he was on the honor roll at school. He was one of the only kids I knew from the care centre that wanted to be better- that was doing better; he had faith that he could do better. He would be released soon- to go back to his family, who visited him every Wednesday evening.
It’s Friday evening, and I’m sitting at the supper table beside Ace quietly. My mother has invited David’s parents over for supper- but it’s awkward. No one’s been able to say anything except ‘thanks for supper- it’s delicious’. I knew it would all go wrong.
My mother had a weird way of holding onto things that were gone. Take her friendship with the Whites, for example. My friendship with their son was the only thing that had kept them talking. After he died- there really was no reason for them to be friends, and as you would expect it- the Whites had stopped conversing, or having anything to do with my family. I didn’t blame them.
Apparently, Ace’s father was in rehab- trying to get clean to that he could gain custody of him. I already knew Ace wasn’t happy about it. He told me about how his father had already been in rehab many times... it never worked. He said that he always ended up on something within a month of being released. I regretted seeing a worried expression loom over Ace’s face after the moment he was told about it.
Ace didn’t want to be at the Care Centre, he didn’t want to be in foster care... and he didn’t want to be at home. There weren’t many more options- he would end up on the street if he didn’t decide soon.
Angel didn’t look like much. He was still scrawny- his clothes still bagged over him, and his cheekbones still stuck out from under his glasses. But he was doing exceptionally well. He almost ate more than Ace and I together and he had been clean for almost six months. His smile always shone, making the light of any moment, and he was on the honor roll at school. He was one of the only kids I knew from the care centre that wanted to be better- that was doing better; he had faith that he could do better. He would be released soon- to go back to his family, who visited him every Wednesday evening.
It’s Friday evening, and I’m sitting at the supper table beside Ace quietly. My mother has invited David’s parents over for supper- but it’s awkward. No one’s been able to say anything except ‘thanks for supper- it’s delicious’. I knew it would all go wrong.
My mother had a weird way of holding onto things that were gone. Take her friendship with the Whites, for example. My friendship with their son was the only thing that had kept them talking. After he died- there really was no reason for them to be friends, and as you would expect it- the Whites had stopped conversing, or having anything to do with my family. I didn’t blame them.