That's Life for You

Chapter 10

By the time I get home most of the anger has left my body. Sitting down on the front porch I smoke one cigarette after another. I really must be the world's biggest idiot to think that anything would ever be different. I didn't steal shit but that didn't matter. Mowing the lawn, fixing up the shitty porch, none of that mattered. I'd always be just your average no good j.d in everyone's eyes.

I can't even be mad at Cassie. She was a bitch about it but she was right for the most part. Why wouldn't she automatically blame me when something goes missing? Hell, I'd probably blame me too.

A chevy pulls up in front of the house and I curse realizing it must be the social worker that I clear forgot was coming today. I stub out my cigarette and get to my feet. I really hope someone had the good sense to clean up around the house.

"Charles Shepard?" The man asks with a friendly smile.

"Curly," I correct reflexively.

He puts out his hand. "I'm Tom Booker," he introduces himself. I study him and can see that he's young. Mid-twenties maybe.

"You ain't my usual social worker," I say, ignoring his hand until it falls to his side.

"You're perceptive." he grins and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I hate when men in authority try to be buddy buddy. Gives me the creeps.

"Is your mom home?" he asks.

I toss a glance over my shoulder at the closed door and shrug. "Dunno, just got home myself." I light up another cigarette, daring him to say something about it.

He surprises me by taking the cigarette from my fingers and taking a drag. "Kools, huh?" he takes a few more puffs before holding it back towards me.

"You ain't gonna tell me I shouldn't be smoking?" I ask, accepting it back.

"Your mom let you smoke?" he asks.

"She don't care," I tell him honestly.

"Then I guess it's okay, isn't it? I'm not here to be your parent, Curly. Do I think you are a little too young to be smoking? Sure, but it's not my place to tell you what you can and can't do. I'm just here to make sure you're doing okay and keeping yourself out of trouble."

I'm not entirely sure of what I should make of this guy. My old social worker was the complete opposite. In fact, any social worker I've ever run into was completely different than him.

"Well..." I say, carefully putting out my cigarette since it's only half smoked and stick it behind my ear for later. "Might as well go inside."

I turn and walk up the steps and I can hear him following. I push the door open and let out a breath of relief when I see the place relatively clean and silently thank God for Angela.

I lead him further inside. I'm a little nervous on how Ma is going to act. She called the old social worker a communist bitch and I wonder if that's why I suddenly have a new one.

I'm stunned when I see Ma though. She's not wearing her usual ratty house robe but a dress, her hair is up and there's makeup on her face.

"Mr. Booker." She smiles widely at him and I cringe realizing that she knew it was going to be a new social worker and that it was going to be a man. Suddenly I pity this man because Ma is going to try to make herself Mrs. Booker.

"Mrs. Shepard," he greets her formally. "Very nice to meet you."

"Oh, you just call me Lorraine." Ma giggles like a school girl.

Mr. Booker looks rightfully uncomfortable when Ma sits too close to him on the couch. Now don't get me wrong, she's a pretty woman, especially considering she has three kids, but I don't think he's looking to have three step children. We're not exactly the pick of the litter.