Borrowed Boy Page 6

  Our lawyer, Mrs. Elwyn, said it would count for a lot with the judge if I told him my preference in my own words. I explained to her that I couldn’t bring myself to sit in a courtroom and say, right in front of the Copelands, that I didn’t want to be their son. Mrs. Elwyn pulled out her cell phone and got me on video saying what I wanted, and she was going to play it for the judge. Mom and Dad arranged with Cole’s parents for me to spend the day with him, and they dropped me off at Cole’s house on their way downtown to the courthouse.

  “So this is it,” Cole said as he led me into the living room. “The big day is finally here.”

  “I can’t wait for it to be over,” I groaned. “These past two weeks have been the worst ever.”

  “Your parents still mad at each other?”

  “No, they got over that a while ago. They’re talking and all that like always. I guess they sort of united over the court fight. But everything is different. Since this whole thing started, it’s like… my life isn’t really my life anymore. You know?”

  Cole dug his fingers through his dreads and scratched his scalp. He scratched like that whenever he didn’t get something somebody said.

  “Never mind.” I grabbed the front of his T-shirt and tugged him toward the door. “Come on.”

  “Come on where?”

  “I wanna go for a walk.” I wanted to forget. I wanted to feel like my old self again. I even wanted to get back to that stupid vocabulary list and the stack of books I was supposed to read, neither of which Mom had mentioned since Agent Henley showed up.

  Cole planted his feet, stopping us both. He looked at me as if I had said we should take a leap out a ten-story window. “It’s a hundred and fifty degrees out there.”

  “My dad checked the weather on the drive over here. It’s ninety degrees.”

  “Feels like a hundred and fifty. And it’s just nine in the morning, so it’s only gonna get hotter. That’s why most sane people are inside under air-conditioning.”

  “That means we’ll have the outdoors all to ourselves. Come on.” I opened the door.

  He looked shocked for a moment. “Lolo was right.”

  “About what?”

  “She always said that when you were a baby, your parents dropped you on your head a lot.”

  I grinned at him, although it was pretty much just on the surface. Inside me, everything was grim, like a thunderstorm coming over the horizon. “How’d she know?” I grinned even bigger, hoping that maybe I could fake myself into believing I was having big fun now. And then I pulled Cole outside.

  I led the way, marching up the street. There was no particular destination in my mind; I just had the urge to move.

  After a few minutes, it became obvious this was a tour of the neighborhood. We passed the houses of friends, Tim Oakhurst, Michael Freedland, and Ahmad Davidson. At the skate park, a couple of older guys and a girl were surfing hard, doing awesome Ollies and Casper Flips. I was just starting to get the hang of those tricks, and I watched for a little while, trying to pick up pointers. Two blocks from the park was the Apostles of Faith Church, with its white-stone walls and towering steeple. When Cole and I were little, we attended Vacation Bible school at that church every summer. I was baptized there just last year. Not far from the church was the elementary school Cole and I had attended. I chased girls across that playground, the thick, coiling earthworms I’d dug up and dangled between my fingers making them shriek and duck in disgust. These were places I knew, places where I’d had fun, places that had become a part of me. This was my world.

  So how could it feel all alien and unreal as I walked through it now?

  Fear had been hanging over my head for more than two weeks, a cloud that suddenly began to pour rain. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, ducking my head and hunching my shoulders as if to ward off a blow.

  Cole trailed behind me as we went. He was a background sort of guy around his parents and when we hung out with a group of friends, so quiet at times that you’d almost forget he was there. But he wasn’t usually like that when it was just the two of us, and it was odd that he was hanging back now. I looked over my shoulder at him. “Hey. You okay?”

  “Yeah,” he sighed.

  “No, something’s bugging you. I know it.”

  His forehead was glistening with sweat. He swiped a hand over his face. “I always thought of you as lucky.”

  “Cole, I’m feeling anything but lucky now.”

  “I get that, but still, I’m kinda jealous of you—”

  I spun on him. “Jealous? That’s dumb, Cole. Stupid. You saying you want your life to be as big a mess as mine? Nobody wants what I got. Nobody wants to feel the way I do. I hate when you say crazy stuff.” Two seconds after I finished talking, I felt like kicking myself. Cole just stood there, blinking patiently at me. “Sorry,” I added. “I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay. You blow up when you’re mad and you’re scared. I can take it. Let’s keep walking. We’ll dry up like raisins if we stand still in this sun.” He started walking again, and I fell in step beside him. “What I meant, Zay, is that I’m jealous of what you have with your parents. Even finding out about the whole adoption thing didn’t change that. Being adopted means your mom and dad really wanted you. And now you’ve got two sets of parents fighting over who wants you most. That’s better than just being an accident, like me.”

  “An accident?”

  “A few months ago, I found a baby scrapbook my mom and dad made for Lolo. It has everything in it, from the first little announcement they sent out after Mom’s doctor told her she was pregnant to a chunk of the blanket Lolo was wrapped in when they brought her home from the hospital. Just looking at that scrapbook, you can tell how excited they were to have her. And that got me wondering, where was my baby scrapbook. My mom and dad never gave me a straight answer, so I asked Lolo.”

  “And what did she tell you?”

  “That Mom and Dad weren’t planning to have any more children after they had her. One kid was all they ever wanted. I was a surprise four years after Lolo. An accident that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “Cole, you know how Lolo is. She probably made that up to prank you.”

  “She didn’t make it up. She read it in a bunch of old emails she found on the computer, sent between Mom and our grandma. She showed them to me, and I read them myself. And it makes sense, because being an accident is exactly the way my mom and dad treat me most of the time. Lolo gets all of their attention, and I’m just an afterthought. Lolo got a baby scrapbook. I got squat. Lolo got a paintball party when she turned twelve. You know what I got when I turned twelve? Squat. Lolo got a car for Christmas last year. And I got… say it with me now… squat!”

  “You got that new PlayStation last Christmas.”

  “Uh-huh. Like a PlayStation is on the same level as a car.”

  “You can’t even drive. And none of this means your parents don’t care. They wouldn’t feed you and keep you in the house if they didn’t want you. Remember when we both decided we wanted dreads? Your mom let you grow them. I begged like crazy, but my mom wouldn’t even think about it.”

  “Because she believes dreads will make you look wild. Your mom doesn’t want you looking wild. My mom doesn’t give a fig what I look like.”

  “Come on, Cole. You know your parents love you.”

  “But I was just something that happened to them. I wasn’t a choice, like you were to your parents. I’m just saying… you don’t have to be so mad. You’ve got a lot of good things in your life, including a wicked smart and very good-looking best friend who doesn’t want you moving off to Chicago.”

  The smile that ticked up one corner of my mouth felt like the real thing. Sometimes the way Cole’s mind worked amazed me. He was a great friend. “Yeah, okay. I just don’t know about the good-looking part.”

  We kept walking under the sunny sky.

  “Zay?”

  “What’s up?”

&n
bsp; “I’m melting here. If I don’t get out of this heat soon, I’m gonna turn into a puddle of goo right here on this sidewalk.”

  I wanted to keep going because moving kept my head clear of certain things. But Cole wasn’t just an afterthought to me. “Okay. I guess that’s enough fresh air and exercise for one day. Let’s go back to your house and play Zombie Mania.”

  THE MARATHON session of video games came to an end midafternoon. That’s when Lolo appeared in the door of Cole’s room and said to me, “Hey, Half-Brain, your parents are here.”

  Cole and I looked at each other and froze. I think we were both surprised that my mom and dad were back so soon.

  Lolo cocked an eyebrow at me, smiling. “Do you need me to repeat that slowly?”

  “No, Lo, I got it.” I put down the controller and stood up from the floor.

  Cole switched off the game system and television. Then he got to his feet beside me. For some reason, a twinge of apprehension tingled in my head, and I felt the urge to shake Cole’s hand or hug him or something. Awkwardly, I just smiled and said, “Thanks for hanging out with me. See you later.”

  I followed Lolo to the living room with Cole bringing up the rear. Mom was waiting at the front door. She smiled when she saw me, and I thought Good sign!

  “Thanks for keeping an eye on Zavier, Lo,” Mom said, putting her hand on my shoulder as I moved next to her.

  “Any time, Mrs. Beckham,” Lolo replied. “I hope everything goes okay with your case.”

  I waved goodbye and then followed Mom out to the car. She slid into the front passenger seat while I climbed into the back. Dad was sitting at the wheel with the engine running, the hiss of the air-conditioner drowning out the sound of the radio. Dad’s face was blank except for his jaw, which worked in that chewing-nails motion again.

  Not a good sign. “How did the whole trial thing go today?” I asked as Dad pulled away from the curb and drove down the street. “Were Mr. and Mrs. Copeland there?”

  “Yes, they were,” Mom said. “Their lawyer presented their side to the judge. He talked about how you were kidnapped, and how desperately the Copelands searched for you all this time. Then our lawyer gave our side to the judge. She got the psychiatrist to testify that you’re happy and well-adjusted. She played the video you made, explained how your dad and I have taken such good care of you, and how we are just as much victims in all this as the Copelands.”

  “So what happens next?”

  “Well, when both lawyers were done, the judge said he would take some time to think everything over and then make his decision.”

  “How long will that take?”

  Mom pressed her lips together in a thin, straight line. “It took about an hour.”

  I looked at Dad. He turned his head away, glancing out the side window. I turned back to Mom. “So… that means the judge made a decision?”

  “Yes.” Mom gave me a smile so pretty and full of comfort it made me ache with love for her. “He decided that you’re going to live with the Copelands.”

  Chapter Ten

  THREE DAYS later, on July 9, Cole came over to my house early. He was going to have breakfast with us.

  It was my last day—my last morning, actually—with Mom and Dad. In his ruling, the judge ordered that I had to be turned over to the Copelands by 10:00 a.m. on the ninth. Mom and Dad decided not to appeal the decision. I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of it. I mean, I didn’t want to leave my parents, but I also didn’t want to hurt the Copelands any more than they already had been.

  When I opened the front door, Cole stood on the porch with his head down and his hands in his pockets. His dangling dreadlocks kept me from seeing his eyes, but he had his lips pulled in tight. I could tell he was trying not to cry.

  “Come on, Cole. Don’t do that.” If he cried, I’d cry, and I’d already cried a lot yesterday with Dad. Dad had taken time off from work to be with Mom and me. Ever since they got the judge’s ruling, he’d been in this strange daze. He talked, played board games, went to the movies, all the usual stuff, but somehow part of him just wasn’t there. We were sitting on the sofa last night watching television while Mom finished making dinner. Out of the blue, I turned off the TV, looked up at him, and said, “Dad, tell me a story.” He sort of shivered for a moment before he grabbed me and burst into tears. It was the first time I’d ever seen him cry. That got my own waterworks going. Seeing someone else cry has always made me want to cry too. Even watching a movie character weep would get me misty-eyed. I have very sympathetic tear ducts.

  I was already feeling pretty emotional, and the sight of Cole’s trembling face was making my eyes sting something fierce. To put a stop to the forging of new waterways, I reached out and squeezed his shoulder hard. He sucked in his breath with a thick, quivering, wet sound.

  “I’m cool, I’m cool,” he said, but I wasn’t so sure about that. We’d been together a lot the past three days, making the most of them, and thankfully this was the only time he’d come close to tears.

  I pulled Cole gently inside and closed the door. “Smell that?” I said, hoping to keep him distracted. “Mom’s making french toast. Your favorite.”

  “Your favorite too,” he said with a sigh.

  “Come on.” I led him to my room, which didn’t look like my room anymore. Three days isn’t a lot of time to pack up your whole life, but Mom, Dad, and I had done it. The walls were bare, stripped of all my superhero movie posters. The closet and every drawer had been emptied, my clothes, shoes, Xbox, video game cartridges, books, football, basketball, skates, and skateboard packed and sealed in big cardboard boxes.

  Cole took a slow look around. “This isn’t fair,” he said quietly. “It’s not right that you have to leave.”

  “Mom and Dad say it is fair.” I sat down on the bed. “They say we went to court, made our case, and now we have to accept the judge’s decision.”

  Cole turned to me sharply, an incredulous look on his face. “Do you think this is fair?”

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure how justice could even play into this. Mom and Dad didn’t do anything wrong when they adopted me. I’d been with them my whole life, or at least as far back as I could remember. Was it fair that I get taken away from them? Mr. and Mrs. Copeland didn’t do anything wrong either. Their baby was stolen. Would it be fair to tell them they couldn’t have their kid back? “I don’t know, Cole,” I said. “Everything about my life feels broken now, and there’s no way to put it back together again. I get this panicky feeling sometimes where I just want to start running and never stop.”

  “Why don’t you run away?” Cole said, smiling big-time as if that were some brilliant solution. “You could stay at my house, and that way you could still see your mom and dad.”

  “Cole, the FBI tracked me here all the way from Chicago. You think they won’t be able to find me two streets over at your place?”

  He sat down on the floor in front of me, stretching out his legs and letting his shoulders slump in a perfect pose of dejection. “This really sucks. I hate that this is happening, Zay.”

  “So do I. I’m not even Zavier Beckham anymore. That was part of the judge’s ruling too. He says my adoption is void because it was based on fake documents, and my legal name is Dwayne Obert Copeland.”

  “I’m not calling you Dwayne. I’m just not.”

  “Hey, I’m not feeling the whole Dwayne thing either. Anyway, I guess I can be Zavier until ten o’clock this morning.”

  Mom appeared in the doorway. She put on a smile when she saw us. “I thought I heard voices back here. Good morning, Cole.”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Beckham.”

  “Wash your hands and come to the kitchen, boys. Breakfast is ready.”

  We sat down at the table, Mom, Dad, Cole, and me. We ate french toast with blueberry syrup and fresh sliced apples from the tree in the backyard, and we talked and laughed and Dad finally told that story I wanted to hear. It was about a boy living in ancient times who got caught in
a monstrous snowstorm on some great mountain range and was separated from his family, and how he had to fight his way through wolves and bears and rocky, icy terrain to get back to the people who loved him.

  All in all, that was a perfect last meal for Zavier Beckham.

  MR. AND Mrs. Copeland showed up about fifteen minutes early. They arrived in a minivan they had rented at the airport. BJ wasn’t with them as I’d expected.

  Mom and the Copelands were all smiles, but Dad could only manage a little curl at the corners of his mouth that barely creased his cheeks. They exchanged greetings at the front door, and then the Copelands gave cheery hellos to Cole and me.

  Cole and I didn’t smile at all.

  “Well, come on in,” Mom said, holding the door for Mr. and Mrs. Copeland. “Charlie and I will help you load up.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to help. Neither could Cole. We stood together in a corner of the living room while the adults took the boxes from my bedroom one by one and loaded them in the van. When they were done, they stood facing each other.

  “Oh, Rudi,” said Mrs. Copeland. Yes, they were on a first-name basis with Mom and Dad now, as if they were old friends. “Blake and I are so grateful….” She reached out and took Mom’s hand. Then, as if she just remembered Dad was standing there, she grabbed his hand too. “Thank you both for taking such good care of Dwayne, for keeping him safe and giving him a happy life.”

  Dad nodded. Mom squeezed Mrs. Copeland’s hand in both of hers.

  “And again,” Mr. Copeland added, “you’re welcome to visit him in Chicago. Just give us a call and let us know when you’re coming.” During the trial the lawyers had explained that, regardless of the outcome, both sets of parents were open to visitation. When he made his ruling, the judge left it up to my Memphis and Chicago families to work out visits.