Free Almost a Family by Stephanie Bond Page B

your new school this fall."
    He looked up. "Are you rich?"
    She laughed. "No, but you can participate in any sport you want to, as long as you keep up your grades."
    He waved off her concern with a cool flip of his hand. "School's a breeze. You just got to listen and ask lots of questions so the teacher will think you're interested."
    "Ms. Andrews told us you're a good student."
    Another shrug. "Whatever."
    "Well," Bailey said with a wink, "looks like you inherited something from Ginny after all—plenty of smarts."
    Chad scanned Virginia head to toe, doubt evident on his face.
    She cast for a new topic and settled on the trip home. "Have you ever been on a plane before?"
    "No," he said defensively. "But me and my mom went to see the space shuttle launch two years ago. It was real cool."
    "I'll bet it was," she agreed, the repeated references to his "mother" not lost on her.
    "Are you all packed?" Bailey asked.
    Chad looked around the room. "Yeah."
    Bailey reached for the duffel bag. "Is there anyone you want to say good-bye to before we go to the airport?"
    After pondering the question, Chad angled his head at them, a challenge in his eyes. "Yeah—I want to stop by my mom's grave."
    Virginia inhaled sharply but kept her face immobile. She traded glances with Bailey, who raised one eyebrow slightly in question. She nodded, then looked back to her son. "I think that would be a very nice thing to do."
    Chad stared at her for a few seconds, chewing on the inside of his cheek, then grabbed his Nintendo and walked out the door.
    Once again they were offered the taxi services of the shelter's van. They used the back entrance of the building to avoid lingering reporters, but if anything, the throng had grown in size. They were mostly interested in Chad, angling and shoving one another for the best shot. To shake the reporters tailing them, Mr. Maybry took a zigzag route across town to the cemetery where Lois Green had been buried less than eight weeks before.
    Her heart pounding, Virginia accompanied Bailey and Chad to the unmarked grave on a steep incline, mounded with crumbly dirt. A single rusty white metal basket and bits of dead, dried flower stems were the only signs that anyone had acknowledged the woman's passing.
    Virginia had prepared herself to be overcome with feelings of hatred and resentment for the woman who had cheated her out of her family, but as she stood in the scorching sun watching Chad stare forlornly at the baked earth, pity for the dead woman was the only emotion that seemed appropriate at the moment. Chad knelt down on one knee, pulled a weed from the loose dirt, and tossed it aside. He held his precious game player tightly in one hand.
    "Hey, Mom." His voice sounded steady and grownup, and Virginia felt precariously close to tears. "These people have come to take me to Ohio to live with them. I don't know when I'll be back to see you, but I'll think about you all the time. Just remember I love you, and that no one can take your place." His voice cracked on the last words, and his head dropped for a few seconds.
    Virginia bit down hard on her tongue. In Chad's eyes, no one would ever be able to replace Lois Green. His resentment toward Ginny was palpable. Did she have a prayer of ever growing close to her son?
    Bailey shifted, coughing lightly. Chad stood up quickly, dragging his hand across his face, then walked back to the van.
    The ride to the hotel to pick up her folks and Detective Lance was a quiet one. Only Ms. Andrews and Mr. Maybry broke the silence with light conversation. Virginia sat immersed in guilt, confusion, and the ever-present fear. And the emotions Bailey had stirred up the night before only cluttered the situation further. At least their exchanges had been cordial, if strained, with no mention of their mutual lapse.
    Prearranged airport security met them curbside to keep the persistent cameras at a safe distance until they were processed through the general security lines. At the gate,