so close to hope

III

In your new town, where Roseanne and Lisa live, school is actually... okay.

Which is a glowing recommendation, coming from you. You've been to a number of schools in your time -- almost too many to remember -- and since you went into the system' you never really stayed in any town long enough to fit in.

It doesn't help that other kids are loud and expressive and don't know what to make of your quiet watchfulness. Sure, you've made friends here and there -- Annie in Glendale and Margot in Wakefield -- but when you started bouncing from foster home to foster home so rapidly you just kind of... gave up on the whole thing.

(Besides, you know you'll always come back to Leo, and he's the only one who really gets you, anyway.)

But, for whatever reason, this town is different. You wonder if it's because you're different. Because Roseanne and Lisa are different, so, so different from any foster parents you've had before (in that they actually care).

Here, your classmates smile at you and trade snacks with you at lunch and they've seem to come under the belief that your really short haircut is a fashion statement and, as a result, they think you're kinda cool and rebellious.

So, yeah, school is pretty okay.

That's why it feels like a major betrayal when, sometime in the beginning of your second month at Cairns Middle School, Lily Myers tells your teacher that she saw you puking in the bushes during recess.

That mouth-breather.

***

You'd been feeling pretty horrible since last night, when your throat became scratchy and you got really, really hot. It was hard to sleep because your head was pounding, and you were shivering even under three blankets.

When morning came there was nothing you wanted to do more than stay in bed and sleep the day away, but you've learned from experience that foster parents don't like that. School is like free daycare, to them, and they get bent out of shape when a kid that's not even theirs comes down with a bug and disrupts their free time. So you got dressed, splashed water on your face, and went downstairs for breakfast.

Roseanne definitely knew something was up. She felt your forehead and pressed the backs of her fingers to your cheeks, and you couldn't help but lean into her touch, a little, because her fingers were really cool and Roseanne's touches make your heart swell up a bit.

You know her mom's a doctor so you were pretty sure she'd see past your bluff when you swore up and down that you were fine, but she just cocked her head to the side before smiling and running her fingers through your hair. (It's finally getting longer, thanks to your new shampoo, and she likes the way the bristly strands feel against her fingers.)

Lisa, however, seemed unconvinced. She usually heads off to work right around the time you leave for school, and this morning was no different. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and halfheartedly scrolling through her phone, while you knew her attention was really on you and Roseanne.

(You could tell because she gets this tiny half-smile when she's thinking about Roseanne, which is practically all of the time. It's adorable and also gross.)

"Are you sure?" Lisa asked.

She glanced between you and Roseanne and you weren't sure who she was addressing, so you stayed quiet.

Roseanne shrugged and made an unsure face. "She says she's fine."

Actually, no, her voice lifted up at the end, so it was more like, "She says she's fine?" That's when you realized Roseanne knew you were sick -- that Lisa probably knew, too -- but they're trusting and good and they take you at your word.