Free The Lost Boy by Dave Pelzer

trying to think of something to say. I failed to think of anything smooth. A surge of anger began to race through me.
    “So tell me, man, what’s it like? I mean, I’m curious. Seriously, what’s it like to have the crap kicked out of you? Why didn’t you fight back? What are you, some sort of wimp?”
    I turned away from him and ran to my room. I could hear him laughing behind me as I slammed the door shut. I burrowed into my bed and cried without knowing why. I stayed in the room all day.
    “Mrs Catanze, am I a wimp?” I asked her the next day as she drove me to the shopping mall.
    “A wimp? David, where did you hear that?”
    I did not want to rat on Larry Jr. But he was a turd, and I didn’t like him anyway. I still felt upset about how he and the other big kids thought of me. I swallowed hard before I answered Lilian.
    “Pay Larry no mind, ” Mrs Catanze said afterward. “He’s a very upset young man. David, we have quite an array of …”
    I gave her a puzzled look.
    “... quite a mixture of young folks who have different … special needs. Larry is just at that age when he’s rebellious. He wants to fight everything and everyone. Give him a wide berth – lots of room. He’s just feeling you out. Give it some time. Okay?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I understand, but am I a wimp ‘cause I didn’t fight back? I mean, is it right to fight your own mother?”
    Mrs Catanze shoved the gear shift into park as she stopped in front of Tanforan Park. She turned to the right as she took off her glasses. “No, David, ” she stated matter-of-factly. “You are not a wimp for not fighting back. I don’t know all that happened, but I do know you’re not a wimp. Now come on. I’ve got a check here for $127 from the county to buy you some clothes. And, ” Lilian smiled, “I’m not afraid to spend it. Lesson number one: Let’s go shopping!”
    As Lilian took my hand, I screeched, “Wow, $127! That’s a lot of money!”
    “Not for a growing boy. And you do plan on growing, don’t you? That’s all the money they gave us for this year. Wait until you have kids of your own, ” Lilian stated, as she opened the door into Sears.
    A couple of hours and three shopping bags later, Lilian and I returned to her home. I smiled from ear to ear as I closed the door to my room, then laid out all, of my clothes as neatly as I could. Next, I arranged the shirts by their colors and folded my underwear briefs and socks just right before putting them away. I sat by the foot of the bed for a few seconds before I ripped open the drawers and rearranged my clothes again. After the fourth time, I slowly opened the drawers. As gently as I could, I removed a dark blue shirt. My hands trembled. I breathed in the smell of cotton.
Yes!
I told myself.
These are
my
clothes!
Clothes that no one had ever touched or worn before. Not rags that Mother had made me wear or clothes she had given me out of pity, that she had stored since last Christmas, or clothes from Aunt Mary that other foster children had worn before.
    “Yes!” I squealed out loud. Then without thinking, I flung open the drawers and threw everything back on the bed. It took me forever to repack my clothes. But I didn’t care – I was having fun.
    A few days later, before lunch, Lilian hung up the phone in the kitchen before calling me away from the television. “So, ” she asked, “how are you feeling today?”
    I shrugged my shoulders. “Fine, I guess.” My eyes grew wide. “Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?”
    “No, no, ” she said in a calm voice. “Now stop that. Why do you always say that whenever someone asks you a simple question?”
    I shook my head. I understood what she said, but I did not know why I always felt on edge whenever someone asked me a question. “I dunno.”
    Lilian nodded. “Hey, let’s say we have some lunch. I’ll kick Larry Junior out, and it will just be the two of us, all right?”
    My face lit up. “Sure!” I liked it