Free Forgotten by Sarah J. Pepper

chilling
in the fridge. There were enough potato chips in their pantry to
feed a small country.
    I finished showering ten minutes
before kickoff. Max barked eagerly as I changed into a pair of
sweat pants and oversized football shirt John gave me from “the
good old days” as the high school receiver. He told me it was royal
blue and lined with gold edging.
    “ That jersey is falling
apart!” Martha exclaimed as I made my way down the
stairs.
    “ It’s just getting broken
in,” I said, walking over to the couch.
    John chuckled and handed me a plate of
hot wings. I imagined him beaming with pride to see me wearing his
old clothes. I made my way to the couch and waited to eat until he
brought over the chips and pops. Max groaned when he realized, not
only would I not be petting him, but I would not be playing with
him anytime soon. Bringing over a squeak toy, he rested on my feet
and proceeded to pout in a way only dogs can.
    “ I thought I threw that
tattered old shirt away,” Martha said after she joined us in the
living room.
    “ You did, three times,”
John said and scooted over next to me on the couch. “I’ve had to
rescue it from the trash.”
    Two minutes before halftime, the door
bell rang. Martha got up, allowing her husband to swear under his
breath after North Carolina tackled Duke’s third-year quarterback
for the umpteenth time. An authoritative woman at the door
questioned Martha, but I couldn’t make out any of the questions.
Slamming his plate down on the end table, John stated that the
defensive line wouldn’t break five-hundred unless they started
playing with their heads. Pop threatened to go up my nose when John
growled about a bad call. Soon he grumbled about his honey-do list
and stomped off to the garage.
    “ She’s here!” Martha said,
walking quickly into the living room. She started to ask where John
was, when a power tool sounded from the garage. “Get your
father.”
    My father? My mouth dropped.
“John?”
    “ That’s what I said,”
Martha replied like I’d said something odd before she raced back to the
front door.
    Absorbing what just happened, I sat
there, stunned. I caught myself smiling, realizing that my place in
the house had somehow changed when I wasn’t paying attention. I was
happy about the impromptu welcome into the family, but I was
guarded. John wasn’t my father. As much as I loved him, he couldn’t
fill those shoes. I shook my head, trying to clear it forcefully. I
was probably reading too much into Martha’s comment.
    I pushed off the leather couch and let
Max lead me to the garage door. Instead of opening it, I knocked
twice and let John know he was needed inside. After he assured me
he’d be out after fixing something, I left for the front door and
found myself looking down at a trembling, petite, dark shadow – a
young girl, perhaps?
    I walked slow, closer to them while
Martha exchanged good-nights with the case manager. Ida Jenkins was
a burly old woman, and, from what she’d told me, had worked in the
foster system all of her working life. Years were sneaking up on
her. She only had a few good ones left in her before she’d be
forced into a retirement.
    “ You still like it here,
Gwyneth?” she asked before leaving. She didn’t check up on me often
anymore, but it was still her duty to keep tabs on me even if I
wasn’t misbehaving anymore. I smiled; it was all the response Ida
needed. She wasn’t going to make a fuss about nothing and was
probably hoping she wouldn’t have to relocate me.
    “ John makes the best wings
in town,” I said and offered her one for the road.
    “ Heartburn isn’t worth it,”
Ida said, and then left.
    Max wagged his tail forcefully enough
that his body swayed, I knew he would topple the new girl the
moment I let my guard down. After telling him to sit, I kneeled
down in front of the foster child. I remember being in her place
eight years ago: scared, cold, and utterly alone.
    “ Hello,” I said,