Free We Are Unprepared by Meg Little Reilly Page B

don’t abuse him, but they aren’t present either. Neglect is easy to overlook, but it can be life-threatening, particularly because August just keeps wandering off. And who can blame him? It’s awful in that house with those two zombies.”
    I tried to imagine August moving away, into a different family, a different house. It didn’t seem right. He would hate to be away from these woods and me and his stupid parents. He loved his parents. But I wasn’t sure how to talk about this. I didn’t have the language to navigate this world of social workers and foster care.
    â€œWhat if...” I started. “Can you just wait? Do we have to do this now? What if I kept an eye on him? I could check on him every day, do activities with him. I could even make sure he eats a healthy meal each day.”
    Bev shook her head. “Ash, you can’t look after him all day . August is desperate for attention and boundaries right now and he’s going to keep pushing limits and taking risks until someone provides him with that. Right now, he needs constant attention. Now, if you wanted to be a formal caregiver, that would be another question...”
    Pia’s eyes opened wide. “You mean, be his foster family?”
    Bev shrugged, leaving the possibility out there on the table.
    I raised my eyebrows at Pia. It sounded crazy, but maybe it wasn’t crazy. Maybe this could save August; wonderful, weird August. She stared back at me in shock. I knew that look. We needed to talk. Of course I wouldn’t commit us to something so big without a lot of discussion between us.
    Bev understood. “It’s not as simple as this. Any potential foster family needs to be thoroughly vetted. And you would need to be 100 percent on board with this idea. There can be no uncertainty.”
    â€œI think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Pia said politely.
    â€œYes, we need to talk about this,” I added. “But what will happen to August for now?”
    Bev took a deep breath. She was unsure herself and it struck me just how haphazardly a child’s future could be decided. This woman had too much discretion, nice as she was. And none of the answers seemed obvious to a table of adults. I wasn’t even sure I understood what the question was.
    â€œI’ll let him stay over there for now,” Bev said, “on the condition that you promise me to check in with him every morning and evening. I’m going to be calling you for updates.”
    I nodded.
    â€œBut we can’t do this for long,” she went on. “You’ve got three months to decide what you want. After that, I’m putting him in a foster family. I don’t want him in that house when these storms come. That’s not happening.”
    Pia and I both nodded. We knew that she was serious. And she was right: August’s fate needed to be determined before The Storms came.
    We sat silently at the kitchen table for a moment, listening to Bev’s car drive away. When there was no chance of her return, I put my head into my hands and yelled, then rubbed my face over and over. Pia walked over and wrapped my head in her arms as she stood above.
    â€œI thought he was dead,” I said into her body.
    â€œI know.”
    â€œI kept seeing these images of him in the woods... It was so bad.”
    Pia released me and sat in the closest chair. She nodded in sympathy, which was all I needed her to do. There was nothing else to be said about that horrible day. August was okay.
    â€œHow could his parents just lose him like that?” I asked. “The social worker’s right. He can’t stay in that house.”
    Pia drew a reluctant breath. “You want to take him, don’t you?”
    â€œYes. Don’t you?”
    She breathed again, then shook her head. “I see what you’re doing here and you have to stop.”
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    Her tone was kind, but firmer now.