Broken Lanterns [ZIAM]

[2] - Last Chance

            Sure enough the next morning Zayn finds himself standing in the Johnson’s family room surrounded by the four members of the family and his social worker. His things are in suitcases by his feet. Zayn smiles to himself because he knew that he shouldn’t unpack. He’s so completely used to this. Mrs. Layanette shakes her head and bites her lip, “I’m very sorry Mr. and Mrs. Johnson,”

            “It’s perfectly fine,” They barely smile and grab the shoulders of their beloved children, “We just don’t think our house can be a good place for him in the long run,”

            It’s true of course. Zayn knows it. But they are sugar coating what’s really going on here. The Johnson’s figured out that Zayn wasn’t an easy case. They figured out that he was broken and bent and torn in every way. So they are giving up on him before ever really trying. It happens all the time. He’s used to it of course. He runs his hands through his hair and then slips his finger over his bottom lip. He’s thinking. One more house left. Only on more foster house that is willing to hold him and then he’ll probably be stuck in a orphanage or a children’s care home, or sent to boarding school and that all sounds like hell.

            “It’s okay,” Mrs. Layanette sighs, “C’mon Zayn, we need to head back to the headquarters,”

            Zayn follows like a puppy, not looking at the girl, Emma, or the father or mother, or that boy who looked at him with a judging look. He follows Mrs. Layanette outside and into the car. He knows he is going to get an earful. Mrs. Layanette is going to yell at him for screwing this up and for making her life so much more difficult. She is going to scream “This is your last chance Zayn!” and she is going to shake her head with that disapproving look in her eye. Zayn feels disappointed in himself too, but also kind of bitter about this whole thing. Tears fill his eyes and he looks out the window so Mrs. Layanette can’t see. He didn’t ask for any of this. He didn’t want any of this to happen.

            To Zayn’s immense surprise, Mrs. Layanette says nothing the entire way back to the social services headquarters. She just holds onto the steering wheel and peers straight ahead. Her eyes look tired and she seems kind of sad. Zayn blames himself. When they park in the lot, Mrs. Layanette doesn’t move. She purses her lips and looks down to her hands and then towards Zayn, “I just don’t understand anymore,” She whispers, “Zayn, I’ve tried everything for you, all different places, all different kinds of families. Why can’t you find somewhere that makes you happy? Haven’t you made any friends at all?” Zayn just stays silent and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’ve tried everything for you Zayn. I really have. I just don’t know what to do anymore? What happens if the next family is just like the Johnson family? What if they call the next morning and it ends up just like this? I won’t know what to do anymore. I won’t know whether I should send you to a school somewhere or try to find an orphanage,” Mrs. Layanette has tears in her eyes, “And you won’t even talk to me,”

            To be completely honest, talking about all of this is too emotional. Zayn doesn’t like it. He’s known Mrs. Layanette for a long long time, since he was seven. Back then, people kept him for longer. He was young, adorable, with these big golden eyes and perfect tan skin. Not talking back then wasn’t a problem. Everyone just said, “He’s just young and traumatized,” But now, Zayn not talking shows that he is different. That he’s strange. He knows that not talking hurts everyone around him, including his beloved social worker who has been through everything with him and never given up on him. Mrs. Layanette is the only solid thing in Zayn’s life. He’s thankful for that. Really thankful. Seeing her cry makes him hurt. But there is nothing he can do. He isn’t going to talk. Not now, not ever.

            “Come on inside,” Mrs. Layanette says softly, “I’ll make arrangements for the next family. Why don’t you sit in the kid’s room and draw or study or read?”