Something Like Spring Read Free Page A

cold. He knew the address of the children’s home by heart, as well as the number of the front desk. Then he noticed handwriting on the back and quickly pocketed the card.
    “Okay,” she said, cheeks slightly flushed. Michelle returned her attention to Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard, a pleasant smile on her face. They walked her to the door, leaving Jason standing there. He decided to make eye contact with each of his “siblings” to show he wasn’t afraid. Or intimidated. Each met his gaze. Of course. They came from the same world as he did.
    “Can you really play that?” the little girl asked, pointing at his guitar.
    “Yeah,” Jason answered.
    “Do you know any hymns?”
    Before he could answer, the Hubbards returned to the room.
    “So,” Mrs. Hubbard said, clapping her hands together. “I’ve always found a nice board game is the best way to get acquainted. How about a round of Scrabble?”
    Jason thought of all the naughty words he could spell. Then he remembered the promise he’d made to Michelle. He’d be good. Forcing a smile, he nodded eagerly. “Sounds fun!”
    * * * * *
    Two hours of mind-numbing games. Not just Scrabble, but also Trouble followed by Chutes and Ladders. That last one had been for Amy’s benefit—the youngest girl. At least the board game marathon had taught Jason everyone’s name, except for his would-be parents. Mercifully, they then showed him to his room. After a brief tour, they suggested he get unpacked and enjoy some privacy, although they left his bedroom door open on the way out. He figured it was meant to stay that way.
    Jason hadn’t felt this antsy since his first few foster families. Back then he had still wanted to please, working hard to live up to expectations both real and imagined. Now, after all these years, he was supposed to try again. If it wasn’t for Michelle…
    Remembering the business card, he pulled it out of his jeans pocket, flipped it over, and read the handwritten note. If you need anything, you can call me. Even at home. Below this a number was scribbled. Jason smiled at the way the word “anything” had been underlined. Another guy might make this into something it wasn’t, show it off at school and brag about the hot older woman who had slipped him her digits. But of course Jason wasn’t like other guys, and Michelle wasn’t that sort of person. Instinct told him to hide the card somewhere safe, so he examined his new room.
    Bedrooms in foster homes came in two flavors. The good ones were neutral, the foster parents trusting their wards to fill the space with their own personalities. The other kind, like the one Jason stood in now, reeked of expectation. A baseball mitt, a bat, and a catcher’s mask nestled casually together in one corner. On the wall hung framed posters of sports cars, the makes and models of which Jason couldn’t even guess at. The queen-sized bed was generously neutral, but the desk next to it was lined with a crisp collection of Hardy Boys books.
    So basically, after having met Jason last month, the Hubbards had decided he was a baseball playing jock who fantasized about zooming around in sports cars while solving petty crimes. He shook his head, gathered up the baseball equipment, and tossed it in the closet. In the liberated corner he placed his guitar. After a moment’s thought, he slid Michelle’s card between the strings, dropping it in the sound hole where he felt it would be safe.
    After swinging his suitcase onto the bed, Jason started moving his clothes into the dresser drawers. That’s when Amy padded into the room. Smiling, she sat on the mattress edge and looked around. Nothing had changed except the guitar, which she stared at. Then she cocked her head, blonde bangs swinging to the side as she considered him seriously.
    “Do you want to pray?” she asked.
    At first Jason wondered if she had a speech impediment. Surely she meant ‘play’ instead of ‘pray,’ but he gave her the benefit of the doubt.