Chapter Text
It was after morning practice, in the sweaty locker room, when Nicky’s phone started ringing.
He was still pulling on his shirt when it began to buzz on the bench where he had set it, just beside Andrew, and when Nicky popped his head through the collar of his tee, he peered down at the phone. It was a number he didn't recognize, apparently, so he declined the call, likely brushing it off as a spam caller.
But the same number called again. A spam caller wouldn't call again, Andrew thought, peering down at the phone. His stomach twisted. A repeat call from an unknown number wasn't a sign that something was wrong, usually, but for whatever reason, Andrew felt anxiety crawling around under his skin, buzz, buzz, buzzing like bees. With the tips of his fingers, he knocked the phone closer to Nicky.
“Answer it.”
“Yeah, yeah. One second,” Nicky said, pushing his hair, all mussed from putting on his shirt, out of his eyes. Finally, he answered the call and put the phone to his ear. He wasn't close enough for Andrew to hear the voice on the other line, so he would just have to piece things together from Nicky’s side of things. “Hello?” Nicky started with, because that was how normal people answered the phone. “Yes, this is…. Yeah, I am. Why?”
There was an uncomfortably long silence, then. Nicky’s phone call seemed to draw everyone else’s attention, too, because the quiet chatter that the locker room had previously been filled with was now gone, replaced by a concerned silence. Andrew watched the expressions on Nicky’s face. His cheery demeanor was mostly gone. His eyes darted between Andrew and Aaron. His eyebrows pinched together ever so slightly, creating a small line between his eyebrows. His lips curled into a slight frown. Andrew couldn't properly identify the exact emotion Nicky’s face was portraying—he'd never been good at that sort of thing—but he could easily tell that whatever the person on the phone was saying, it wasn't anything good.
Nicky's eyes hit Andrew’s again, then darted to the ceiling—avoidant. “Sorry, I’m just wondering… is there not anyone else?” Nicky asked the cell phone. More silence, then, “No, no. That's not what I’m saying. Of course I’d take her—I mean, I think. But I wanted to make sure there's not anywhere else that might be better? I mean, I’m not exactly experienced in taking care of—oh? That’s the only other option?”
Andrew didn't like waiting. Didn't like the way Nicky wouldn't look at him anymore. Didn't like how Nicky’s face had just dropped further.
“Nicky,” he said, voice flat but demanding.
Unwisely, Nicky held up a finger, as if that would silence Andrew.
“Nicky. Who is on the phone?” Andrew asked.
Nicky pulled the phone away from his ear, put his hand over the microphone, and whispered, “I'll tell you in a second. Hold on.” He brought the phone back to his ear.
Andrew could feel everyone else coming near, gathering around, waiting to hear what this tense phone call was all about. He didn't like being surrounded like this, but Neil’s shoe pressed slightly against the side of his kept him from snapping.
“Well, if that's the case, then yes, we’d love to meet her.”
Her.
Who the hell was her? And why were Nicky’s words implying that he, Aaron, and Andrew would love to meet her?
“Nicky.”
“Oh, I know, but they're still allowed to be around her, right? Yeah. Okay…. Yeah, I’ll talk to them and call you right back. Okay. Thank you. Yeah. Bye.”
When Nicky hung up the phone and shoved it into his pocket, he still wouldn't look away from the ceiling, running a hand through his hair and letting out a tense huff.
“Who was that?” Kevin asked. It was rare for Kevin to involve himself in any conversations that didn't revolve around exy. Nicky’s body language must have sent a message that was strong enough to make it through even Kevin’s thick skull.
Still, Nicky didn't answer. Andrew could see in his neck when he swallowed thickly.
“Nicky.” Andrew stood as if he needed to stand up straight to intimidate Nicky. Really, Nicky would still be intimidated by Andrew if he were dead asleep, dressed in a princess dress, clutching a teddy bear. Andrew could be dead, and Nicky would still be intimidated by him. “Who?” Andrew asked for the last time.
Finally, Nicky dragged his eyes down from the ceiling. He looked at Aaron, who was now standing just behind Andrew, then at Andrew himself. “I need to talk to you. Alone,” he said.
Neil stood without hesitation and turned away. “Come on,” he said to the others—only Matt and Kevin were still in the locker room—and ushered them out of the locker room. Matt went without fuss, but Kevin, being Kevin, narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms, huffed and puffed as he begrudgingly made his way out of the locker room.
In the doorway, Neil stopped and turned back to look at Andrew. He raised his eyebrows a little, silently asking, do you want me to stay?
Andrew shook his head and looked away. Whatever this was, he would tell Neil later. Nicky seemed set on it being just family, and Andrew was feeling too impatient to make a problem out of things, considering Aaron still wasn't too keen on considering Neil family.
Nicky cleared his throat and went back to his eye contact avoidance. Andrew didn't mind it now that he knew Nicky was going to tell them about the phone call. Andrew didn't like eye contact, really—he usually kept his eyes on the space between eyebrows—but he didn't like lying and omission even more, and oftentimes, the sudden lack of eye contact implied just that.
“That was a, um…” Nicky started, scratching at the back of his head. “It was a social worker.”
Despite zero points of contact, Andrew could practically feel Aaron tense beside him. Andrew could only assume this was Aaron worrying about another Pig Higgins and Drake situation. Part of Andrew worried, too, but he knew that if the supposed social worker really wanted to talk to him, they would have called him first. Andrew’s phone didn't have any missed calls or messages. So this had to be something else.
“She wanted to know if I would be willing to take in another kid,” Nicky explained. Andrew didn't like the vagueness of the explanation, but Nicky was smart enough not to let the sentence hang for too long. He continued only a second or two later, after another deep breath. “Your sister. On your dad’s side.”
Andrew’s heart dropped into his stomach.
He was feeling a thousand things but couldn't identify a single one of them. A goddamn sister. He didn't have a goddamn sister. Aaron didn't have a goddamn sister. There wasn't a goddamn sister that needed a home from them. It didn't make any fucking sense.
“That—” Aaron’s voice broke the silence, crackly and dry. His mouth hung slightly open, eyes wide with disbelief, while Andrew’s expression remained blank, impossible to read despite the screaming that was happening inside. “That doesn't…” Make sense, were likely his next words, just like Andrew’s train of thought, but the further that train chugged, the more Andrew and Aaron both realized that it did make sense, and it was possible.
Andrew, of course, didn't know either of his parents as a kid, and Aaron had only known their mother. It was entirely possible that there was another Minyard sibling out there—maybe even more than one.
“Tell me everything the social worker said,” Andrew spoke, his voice portraying the same amount of emotion his face did, which was to say none. They wouldn't see through him. They never could. They never understood anything about Andrew.
“She said, um… well, the kid’s name is Olwen. She's nine. Her—or your, I guess—dad overdosed when she was seven, and her mom’s in prison. Apparently, they've been looking for relatives for a while, but the mom wouldn't tell them anything. She only told them a few days ago about your dad having you guys. They looked into you, but…”
“But we're not exactly their first choice for guardians. Yeah,” Aaron inserted, acting as if it was nothing even though Andrew knew that, deep inside, it bothered him. Having murder on his record.
“Yeah.” Nicky nodded, though he didn't look too happy about it. “But they did see that I took you in, and that I’ve already gone through the whole, you know, process. So they called me. They want me to take her in.”
Aaron worked his jaw, eyes wide and filled with some kind of emotion Andrew couldn’t figure out until Aaron said, “You told them no, right?”
Nicky’s expression crumpled into disbelief. “What? Of course not.”
“Why not?” Aaron asked.
“It’s us or foster care, Aaron,” Nicky said.
“So?”
It was genuine, too. So? The amount of ignorance in just one word was almost too much to believe. Andrew could kill him. He really could.
The strained silence in the room seemed to push Aaron more in the direction of acknowledgement. He knew why it mattered, and he knew why Nicky wasn’t letting the kid go back into foster care. He just didn’t want to admit it. Aaron sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, just because it happened to Andrew doesn’t mean it happens to everyone,” he reasoned.
“Sure, but are you really willing to risk that?”
Andrew hated it when Aaron and Nicky spoke about him like he wasn’t there, or like he was some enigma they couldn’t address directly. With just a single glance in his direction, maybe they would remember he was in the room, but they wouldn’t look at him, and they wouldn’t look at him on purpose. They didn’t want his opinion or his thoughts or his feelings, because to Nicky and Aaron, those things didn’t really exist—or if they did, they meant nothing. Andrew was just a land mine they were tiptoeing around.
If Andrew expected them to address him, he had to speak first. So, before another word could be said from either of them, he interjected with a sharp, “When are we getting her?”
Finally, Aaron and Nicky both turned to him. Nicky looked calm, like this was something he was expecting, but Aaron, on the other hand, looked furious, if the sour look on his face was any indication.
“You’re kidding,” he spat, scoffing, scrunching his face up, doing all of the things that meant this is bullshit. “You seriously think this is a good place for a nine-year-old little girl? Do you seriously think she’d be just fine hanging out with Kevin walking-panic-attack Day and your antichrist boyfriend?”
Without a beat of hesitation, Andrew said blankly, “I would trust either of them with her more than I would you.”
That seemed to send a jolt of something through Aaron’s system. He flinched at the words, physically, even. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, they’re not in here trying to convince me to let a kid—my sister—stay trapped in foster care, are they?” Before Aaron could give any sort of response to that, Andrew moved on from it, because he wasn’t there to dwell on the morals of his twin brother. “Nicky. When?”
Nicky cleared his throat, awkwardly glancing between the two of them as if he was trying to judge whose word he was more willing to go against. Unsurprisingly, the answer was Aaron’s. Ignoring Andrew’s thoughts, especially when it came to something only Andrew had really experienced, was a dangerous game that Nicky was unwilling to play. “They want us to fly out there to meet her over the weekend, and then we’ll have a week to prepare before they bring her… but it’s not like she can stay at the dorms. We’ll have to figure something else out pretty quick.”
Andrew had heard all he needed to hear. He turned on his heel and headed out of the locker room, ignoring the questions Nicky and Aaron were throwing at him as he went. Unfortunately, they decided to follow, so their obnoxious voices didn’t fade away. Outside of the locker room, the other foxes, plus Wymack, were all waiting. Andrew didn’t pay them any mind. He found Neil, grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him away. Neil went willingly.
Kevin, however, was not happy with being left behind. “Hey! Where the hell are you going?” he whined. “Andrew!”
“Apartment shopping,” Andrew answered, straight to the point. “Catch a ride with Boyd.”
“You don’t need an apartment, Minyard. Foxes live in the dorms,” Wymack reminded him.
“Nicky,” is all Andrew had to say.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll explain it,” Nicky said, waving a hand. “Don’t decide on anything without talking to me first! And make it cheap! We can’t afford—”
“I can afford it,” Neil said with a shrug. And then he and Andrew were out the door, in the parking lot, then in the car. Neil didn’t ask until they were on the road, and Andrew was driving faster than he usually did, and his free hand was resting on Neil’s knee. Andrew was never overly touchy, so when he was, Neil was always quick to ask, “Andrew, what’s up?” This time, he added, “Why are we looking for an apartment?”
“Need one,” Andrew said.
Neil wouldn't understand why they needed an apartment until Andrew said it, and Andrew knew that, but he needed a moment longer to think through his words. Fortunately, Neil knew Andrew well enough to understand that Andrew would speak when he was ready to. Neil waited quietly, fingers brushing over the back of Andrew’s hand, for ten minutes as Andrew drove around campus. Only when he parked his car outside the library did he finally talk.
“I have a sister,” he started with.
He watched Neil’s eyebrows furrow with confusion. “Um… since when?”
“Since nine years ago, but I only found out about it fifteen minutes ago.”
“Okay… okay. What’s her name?” Neil asked.
“Olwen. She is in foster care.”
“Oh.” Neil nodded. He understood, then, because with only little hints, he could practically read Andrew’s thoughts. “She can't be in foster care. But they called Nicky, so is it him that they want to take her?”
Andrew nodded, staring blankly at the steering wheel. A whirlwind of emotions was flying around inside of him, and he didn’t quite know how to handle them, so he pushed them down inside and breathed, breathed, breathed. He let his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, then let go completely. He couldn’t quite piece together his thoughts properly. They were all screaming at him, overlapping their voices until it was all almost unintelligible. He wondered what she looked like, what she acted like, what her interests were. He wondered if she was okay, or if she was just like he had once been. He didn’t like the idea of her being without him for another second, but he couldn’t have her just yet.
How the fuck did that work? How could Andrew care so much about some girl he apparently shared blood with, when he hadn’t even met her? He didn’t even know what she looked like. All he knew was that her name was Olwen Minyard, she was nine years old, and the cards were stacked against her. Yet there was already a fire burning in Andrew’s chest, burning and burning away at his insides, as his mind screamed for him to protect her.
Maybe, because of his own experiences in foster care, there was something inside Andrew that would make him want to get any kid at all out of there. It had never been an option before. He could wish that he could take the foster care system apart piece by piece and rebuild it into something better, safer, healthier, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even give a kid a safe home because he was reckless, he was uncontrollable, a criminal, and a problem. Neil couldn’t, either, because, well. So Andrew didn’t get this opportunity.
Maybe this instinct to protect was there so quickly because this was Andrew’s one and only opportunity to save a kid in the way he once wished he could be saved. Or maybe it was the fact of DNA. Maybe it was wired into him with A’s, T’s, G’s, and C’s.
At the end of the day, though, Andrew couldn’t do anything at all until he got his head on straight. He needed to get these thoughts out, and he didn’t have his journal with him, so Neil was the only option. Even if talking felt too overwhelming, the chaos of Andrew’s brain was even worse.
“They want Nicky to take her,” Andrew confirmed once more, “but I won’t let—it cannot just be him.” Andrew inhaled, exhaled, breathed in Neil’s presence like it was better than oxygen. Probably it was. “Nicky was a good guardian. He tried very hard to be good to us and gave up his life in Germany for Aaron and me—I understand that. But he was not perfect, and even if he was, I would not let him take on that weight alone for another nine years. It cannot just be Nicky.”
When Andrew finally looked away from the steering wheel and spared a glance in Neil’s direction, he only saw understanding. Neil nodded. “Okay. A big enough place for me, you, and I assume Kevin, plus Nicky and Olwen, then? Or Aaron, too?”
Where the fuck were they going to find a good enough place on such short notice? “It needs two bedrooms at the very least. She needs to have one of her own. If you, Kevin, Nicky, and I need to share a room, so be it. It’s no different from the dorms. But she needs her own room.” Andrew hated this. Hated that he couldn’t just have a house built to his liking before the end of the week.
“Okay,” Neil said, still nodding along, still just as calm as Andrew needed him to be in that moment. “But, ideally, we’re looking for four bedrooms?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go inside and look.”
-
Andrew and Neil missed all of their morning classes to spend their time in the library, house hunting on every trustworthy website they could find. They decided early on that they would avoid buying a house—they would buy one if it was their only good option, but they highly doubted they wouldn’t be able to find one for rent that worked just fine. They wouldn’t be staying in Palmetto for the rest of their lives, and they already had the house in Columbia. They didn’t need a permanent home yet. They just needed it until graduation—fuck, Andrew would graduate next year, if he wanted to graduate on time, but athletes were expected to stay for a fifth year, and Andrew didn’t mind that so much now that it meant postponing figuring out what would happen to his sister when Nicky went back to Germany.
Was there any possible way Andrew could get custody of her after graduation? Was there no way he could prove himself worthy? What about Neil? Could Neil do it? Could they get help from Browning? Could they somehow get the Moriyamas to help them? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Andrew was one thought away from working himself into a panic attack.
Okay. Well, Andrew knew a little bit about the system. He was a Criminal Justice major. How fucking ironic. Okay. Okay. Having a past assault charge might disqualify most people for fostering, but was it different if that child was a relative? Could Andrew be granted leeway, considering how young he was when he was last charged with assault? It was in defense of Nicky, anyway—he saved Nicky’s life. Still, the court considered it a gross overreaction. Andrew only got out of jail time by agreeing to therapy and those god-awful drugs they put him on. If Andrew kept his record clean for the foreseeable future, could he, potentially, earn the right to be his sister’s guardian?
Fuck. He didn’t know. He needed to talk to Bee. Maybe Bee could help him.
No, that wasn’t urgent. They still had two years to sort that out. What was urgent was finding a house so that they could bring Olwen home.
So after picking out houses online, Andrew and Neil figured out how to contact a realtor, and they scheduled as many showings as they could for the rest of the day as well as Friday. Nicky missed his Thursday afternoon classes to join Andrew and Neil to see the houses, and they all missed their Friday classes to go see more. They had two places that were looking as close to perfect as they could get. Both, miraculously, had four bedrooms. Both, unfortunately, were very expensive to rent. But Neil was glad to pay for it, of course, because he was Neil. On Monday, if all went according to plan, Nicky and Neil would sign the lease (because, again, Neil was glad to pay, but Nicky’s name on the lease would look better to any social workers).
On Saturday, Nicky, Aaron, and Andrew all woke up early and headed to the airport for a 9 AM flight to Chicago, where Olwen was currently living with a foster family who was apparently eager to get rid of her.
Andrew wanted more than anything for Neil to come along, but it made more sense for him to stay back. Andrew didn’t want to overwhelm the girl with a bunch of people, and if Andrew brought Neil, he would also have to bring Kevin, because Kevin, as Aaron put it, was a walking panic attack and wasn’t keen on being left without Andrew.
Besides, Neil had been tasked with buying a variety of things for the house. Most of it was just general things, like soap and dishes and chairs and all those house things that no one thinks about until they’ve bought or rented the house and realize they have nothing to put in it. But Neil had also been given a list of a few things to buy for Olwen, like a bedframe and a mattress (thank God for Matt and his truck, honestly), as well as some clothing options. Andrew didn’t want to buy much without Olwen’s approval, especially because he didn’t even know what clothes would fit her yet, but it was good, he thought, to have at least a little something prepared.
The flight was Hell-on-Earth (Hell-in-Earth’s-atmosphere?), and Andrew desperately wished Neil was there beside him, but he made it through. The thought that, at the end of the day, he would only have to fly back to South Carolina was less than comforting, but the flight was only two hours. He would survive. Probably.
Andrew wished that they could take Olwen home that day, but that wasn’t how this worked. They were only meeting Olwen. Then, once they got their house situation established, a social worker would have to check in and deem everything acceptable, and then, finally, Olwen could come home.
It was stupid—infuriating, really—that they wouldn't just let Olwen come home right away. She would be better off living in the dorms for three days than living with a foster family that didn't even want her around. But Andrew would just have to deal. To just live with it. It wouldn't be much longer.
Chicago was chillier than Palmetto, but that wasn’t at all surprising. It was mid-October. The leaves were turning, and the temperature was dropping just enough to require a hoodie, but not enough to warrant a real jacket. Andrew wondered if this was where Olwen had lived her entire life, or if she moved here later on. He wondered if she had any friends to miss, or if she would miss the snow, or if she would miss the rest of the city. He wondered a thousand things. His mind wouldn’t rest.
“So, Andrew, you realize this social worker we’re meeting probably won’t appreciate you death glaring at her, right?” Aaron snarked as they walked down busy sidewalks, heading for the nearest subway station.
They would be meeting Olwen and a social worker at an iHop. They were only about ten minutes away, now. Andrew was buzzing. He wondered if Aaron’s supposed carelessness was genuine or a defense mechanism—a wall put up to protect himself from the fact that another one of his siblings could very well be just like Andrew.
“Bold of you to assume I won’t be glaring at you,” Andrew murmured as he resisted an eyeroll.
“Guys, can we just, like, act like a nice family just this once? For Olwen?” Nicky begged with a desperate-sounding sigh. He was nervous, too. Andrew could see it even if Nicky thought he was hiding it with endless chatter and a glued-on smile. “They’re not gonna let us have her if they don’t think she’ll be safe. You have to make them think, ‘wow, these guys are totally safe.’ And right now, you’re both acting like those dogs people chain up in their yards that bark at every person who walks past. Not safe.”
This time, Andrew couldn’t resist the eyeroll—both at the stupid simile and the notion that Olwen would somehow be unsafe with Andrew. With Andrew, Olwen would be safer than she’d ever been in her life. Safer than she’d ever be again, anywhere else, with anyone else, because Andrew would not let the things that happened to him happen to her.
“Aaron, you should talk about Katelyn and about being a doctor. They’ll love that shit,” Nicky said, bumping an elbow against Aaron’s.
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever,” Aaron grumbled. This definitely, definitely had to be a front. Andrew may not have been particularly close with his twin brother, but he knew when Aaron was hiding, and Aaron was absolutely fucking hiding. Aaron, probably, was terrified.
Ten minutes later, they were standing in front of the door to a McDonald’s, and Nicky was going on and on about how he was sure this was going to go great, and Aaron was staring blankly at the door, and Andrew’s heart was beating too hard beneath his sternum. He really, really wished Neil were there.
Neither Nicky nor Aaron seemed to be able to pull open that door and walk inside in that moment, so Andrew, growing increasingly impatient, led the charge. He yanked open the door and stepped inside. Aaron and Nicky were quick to follow, eager to get ahead of him, unwilling to let Andrew be the first person to make an impression on the social worker.
Nicky was the first to spot the social worker. She was sitting at a booth in the corner, smiling and waving at them, and Nicky was smiling and waving back. Andrew couldn’t see Olwen just yet. The social worker was blocking his view. It didn’t take long, though, for Nicky to rush over to the table with Aaron and Andrew following behind.
And then there she was.
Olwen.
Olwen was—tiny. Jesus fucking christ. She could pass as a kindergartener, if it weren’t for the look on her face that made her seem so, so much older. Was her size due to a lack of nutrition, a lack of food? Or was it in her DNA, like it was in Andrew’s and Aaron’s?
Andrew, already, could see a lot of his younger self in Olwen. She had hair so blond it was almost white, and an almost entirely blank look on her face. Her eyes were brown, too, though a much, much darker brown than Andrew and Aaron’s. Maybe Olwen got them from her mother. Andrew’s eyes, in the sunlight, sometimes looked more gold than brown, according to Neil’s disgustingly flattering words. Olwen’s were duller and darker, like maybe, at one point, they could have been the same as Andrew’s, but had been stained by the rottenness of humankind. They were wide, too—wide enough that Andrew wondered if Olwen was fawning, as Bee would put it.
Everyone always talked about fight or flight, which covered both Andrew and Neil’s bases, but less talked about were freezing and fawning. This look on Olwen’s face looked a lot like fawning. A little girl, terrified out of her mind, making herself look as small and pliant as possible, because maybe if she was cooperative enough, she wouldn't get hurt.
Andrew felt sick to his stomach.
Nicky introduced himself, grinning and as friendly as ever, before introducing Andrew and Aaron, too. Aaron was putting on his best attempt at a resting-normal-person-face rather than his usual resting-total-fucking-asshole-face. Andrew wasn't sure what his face was doing, but he hoped it was blank. It was probably blank. It almost always was.
“Olwen, why don’t you say hello?” the social worker said, tilting her head to look down at Olwen, who didn't look away from the three men standing around the head of the table. “Olwen, honey, it's polite to say hello.”
Olwen pressed her hands tight over her mouth.
The social worker laughed awkwardly, then stood, putting her hands on Olwen’s shoulders to pull her along, too. The social worker stuck out a hand to shake for each of the three men. Nicky shook, of course, and Aaron shook, but Andrew did not. Again, the social worker laughed awkwardly. “Well. I’m Julie Zuba. I’ve talked to you on the phone, Mr. Hemmick, but it's very nice to meet you all.” She pushed Olwen gently closer to Nicky, who was still grinning in a way that Andrew was sure Olwen was put off by. “You don't have to talk, Olwen, but why don't you give your family a hug?” Julie suggested.
Andrew watched all the muscles in Olwen’s body tense. He thought, for a moment, that Olwen might lash out, scream, or maybe run and hide at the concept of hugging three strange men she'd never met before. But when Julie urged her forward, Olwen complied, albeit with her hands latched together in front of her and her eyes on the ground. She was the embodiment of ‘maybe if I surrender to the rain, the storm will pass me by’, and it was tearing Andrew’s insides to shreds, clawing its way up his throat.
Nicky raised his arms as if to hug Olwen, but before he could get close, Andrew grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him backward.
With a short gasp, Nicky shot Andrew an annoyed look. “What?” he asked, confused, innocent.
Andrew looked away from Nicky, though, and settled his gaze on Olwen, who stared up at him, frozen. “Olwen,” Andrew said, and it felt strange to match the name to the face, “do you want to hug Nicky? Or any of us?”
Olwen’s silent staring went on for another ten to twenty seconds, and then, finally, slowly, hesitantly, her head shook from side to side. A very clear no.
Andrew nodded. “Then don't.”
Olwen stared a little longer.
“Let’s sit,” Julie said.
As the rest of them gathered into the round booth, Andrew waited off to the side so he could get a seat at the end rather than squished between two people. As he waited, he pulled out his phone and opened his text stream with Neil. He quickly typed out a message. Size small in girls and extra small in boys. Pjs and one outfit from each. She can choose more when she comes home.
When Andrew tucked his phone back into his pocket and looked up, his eyes found Olwen again. She was on the inside of the round booth, curled into herself with her arms wrapped around her knees, between Julie and Nicky.
God, Andrew forgot how little people thought about things. How little empathy the majority of the world had. How stupid everyone could be. How easily most people could remain ignorant to the fact that not all kids are comfortable with being touched, with being crowded, with a lack of boundaries.
“Olwen,” Andrew said again, “do you want to sit at the end of the booth?”
Olwen stared for only five seconds this time, then gave a small, nearly unnoticeable nod. So Andrew stared at the social worker, blank-faced and impatient, until she realized what he was getting at and stood from the booth. Olwen scrambled out of the booth and stood at the head of the table, staring at Andrew some more until Julie sat back down. Olwen took her seat at the very edge of the booth, across from Andrew, and stared more.
“She’s not mute, in case you were wondering,” Julie said, breaking the thick, thick silence. She was still smiling, all perfectly polite. “She just—sometimes, she stops talking when she gets overwhelmed or tired or upset. But, once she gets comfortable, she’ll tell you all about her favorite jellyfish.”
Ah, so Olwen’s silence was only temporary. Andrew knew it well, going non-verbal. Sometimes, on his worst days, he couldn’t talk at all, even if he tried. He wondered, then, if it was something genetic that somehow passed Aaron by, or if it could be attributed to experiences in foster care. It was probably the latter, really. A kid could never really expect what they’d get from a new foster parent, and keeping quiet was an easy way to fly under the radar. It didn’t take long for it to weave itself into Andrew’s brain as a defense mechanism.
“Well, I think Olwen might get a bit more comfortable if she gets to know you all better. Do you want to introduce yourselves?” Julie suggested.
“Oh, of course!” Nicky pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m Nicky.” He gestured to Andrew. “This is your brother Andrew.” He put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “And this is your brother Aaron. I’m their cousin. I’m not technically, or genetically, your cousin, since you and your brothers have different moms, and I’m related on their mom’s side. But, if you’d let me, I’d love to be your non-genetically-related cousin. And your guardian, too.”
Olwen was staring at Nicky, now—the only indication that she was listening at all.
Nicky waited a moment, as if he thought Olwen might say something, but then cheerfully went on. “Your brothers and I play a sport called exy at our school. Our team is called the Foxes. Have you heard of them?”
After a solid five seconds, Olwen very slowly shook her head.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to like exy. Anyway, we’re in college, which means we all learn different things, now. I major in marketing, which means I’m learning how to sell people things, which is probably pretty boring to you. Andrew majors in Criminal Justice, which is also probably boring to you. Aaron, though, majors in biochemistry because he wants to be a doctor. Isn’t that cool?”
Olwen shrugged. Andrew was definitely a fan.
Nicky hummed in thought, then tapped his hands against the table as an idea must have popped into his head. “So, you like jellyfish? Are there any other sea animals you like?”
Without hesitation this time, Olwen nodded adamantly.
“Which ones?” Nicky asked.
Again, Olwen pressed her hands over her mouth and sank down into her seat. Silence enveloped them all. Olwen wasn’t ready to talk yet.
Julie opened her mouth, as if to speak, but—surprisingly—Aaron, of all people, interrupted. He grabbed Olwen’s kids' menu paper along with the pack of crayons that had been placed in the middle of the table before they arrived. He started drawing, but Andrew couldn’t quite make out what it was he was doing just yet. “Have you ever played Hangman?” Aaron asked. He looked up from the paper for just a second to see Olwen nodding. Once the setup for the game was finished, he slid the paper and crayon back over to Olwen. “Draw a little line for—yeah, you got it,” Aaron said as Olwen instantly started drawing spaces for letters.
When Olwen spun the paper around to face Aaron, Nicky, and Andrew, it had seven spaces on it for letters.
“B!” Nicky blurted.
Olwen drew the head of the hangman.
“Oh, shoot.”
Aaron huffed a sigh and lightly jabbed his elbow into Nicky’s. “Idiot. You start with the vowels,” he said, making a show of his disappointment. Olwen wasn’t laughing—wasn’t even smiling, really—but she looked more settled than before. She liked the game. “How about A?” Aaron asked.
Olwen drew the torso of the hangman.
“O,” Andrew said.
Olwen drew an O in the first and fourth spaces.
“Oh, blank, blank, oh,” Nicky read out, eyes narrowed with confusion. “Am I stupid? What sea animal sounds like ‘oh-blah-blah-oh’?” Andrew had already figured out the answer, with the knowledge of the O’s and there being seven letters, but he figured that if Olwen was enjoying herself, he ought to let the game go on a little longer. “How about… L?”
Olwen drew the left arm of the hangman.
“You suck at this, Nicky,” Aaron sighed. “S?”
Olwen put an S in the seventh space.
It should’ve been obvious, then, but Nicky was still staring at the paper, confused. Maybe he was acting. Surely he couldn’t be that stupid. “Oo-oo-s? Ooze? No, that’s not a sea animal.” He tapped his chin. “Andrew? You have a guess?”
“T,” Andrew said.
Olwen put a T in the third space.
“Oh, oh! Octopus!” Nicky exclaimed.
Olwen nodded and filled out the rest of the spaces to finish the word. They played two more rounds, revealing that Olwen liked sharks and whales as well as jellyfish and octopus.
The rest of the time went by quickly. Olwen got fries only and dipped them in an obscene amount of ketchup. Nicky offered her a bite of his burger, but she shook her head, and Julie explained that Olwen was an extremely picky eater and mostly sustained herself with snack foods, because no one could get her to eat much else.
Julie explained a lot of things, actually. She explained that Olwen was a bright kid, but struggled in school because she did not like to participate. She explained that Olwen had frequent nightmares that would sometimes wake her up in the night, screaming. She explained that Olwen loved Legos and little, rubber toys called squinkies. She explained that Olwen liked to watch nature documentaries, but mostly ones about the ocean, of course. And when Olwen left the table to go to the bathroom and clean her hands after a ketchup incident, Julie explained that most foster families didn’t want to keep Olwen around because she was, quote, a lot to manage.
In other words, Olwen wasn’t the perfect little girl people dreamed of adopting. She wasn’t polite. She wouldn’t always talk, she would stare and stare and stare, she wouldn’t eat her food, she wouldn’t wear clothes if they were too tight or too itchy or too uncomfortable, she would wake the whole house up screaming at night—she was not easy. Not all foster parents were prepared for not easy.
Sometimes, apparently, Olwen would even go out of her way to get herself in very, very big trouble, which had resulted in visible bruises and removal from foster homes.
Smart kid, Andrew had thought when Julie revealed that particular detail. It was awful, the fact that Olwen had to resort to purposely receiving visible bruises in order to get herself pulled out of an unsafe home, but it was smart. Make a violent person angry enough, and they’ll forget they’re supposed to keep the injuries out of sight—they’ll do something reckless and stupid, like giving a kid a bruise on the face rather than somewhere hidden beneath clothing.
It was decided, then, that next Saturday—an entire week away—Olwen would get on a plane with unaccompanied minor services, and she would take the two-hour flight to South Carolin, and Nicky (and Andrew and Aaron) would pick her up at the airport. All of this, of course, was dependent on whether or not their new place would pass the home inspection, which was set to take place on Wednesday evening. If all went well, they would have Olwen home by next Saturday.
A whole fucking week.
“Where is she staying now?” Andrew asked.
“She’s with the same family she’s been with for the past few months, while we were trying to get answers out of her mother. They’re very nice people. They just… well, as I said, she can be difficult sometimes, and not everyone is always prepared for that,” Julie explained solemnly.
Andrew was growing very sick of her explanations.
If someone couldn't handle a kid like Olwen, they shouldn't volunteer to take care of kids like Olwen. It was bullshit. Whatever. Fuck them and fuck that. Andrew didn't care how difficult Olwen might be; he would care for her all the same.
He wanted nothing more than to take Olwen home that day. And yet he couldn’t. Because there were rules set in place—rules to guarantee the safety of the child, which was really all bullshit because they couldn’t guarantee anything—and Andrew knew, no matter how much he hated it, that if he put up a fuss about this, if he was mean, hostile, rude, or violent in an attempt to get his way, they could change their minds about letting Olwen go home with Nicky at all, because Andrew was just too violent a person for her to be around, and everything would shatter. Andrew would have to resort to fucking kidnapping to keep Olwen out of the system.
So he would cooperate.
It was just one more week. One more week. One more week.
As they left the McDonald’s, Nicky squealed, “Oh my God, she’s a little baby Andrew!”
Andrew felt nothing but a complicated mixture of something like pride and something like fear, and he didn’t speak for the rest of the day.