Page 57

“Take your plate to the sink first, please,” I respond.

You’re failing, Danae. He’s obviously lying. You can’t let him get away with lying. But calling him out on the lie might crush him. He isn’t even calling you “Mom” yet. Will he ever think of you as his mom if he thinks you don’t trust him?

What do I do?

After doing the dishes, I walk upstairs to go think in my room. I’m itching to write out a pro/con list, but that seems a little much for the situation. As I walk past Jason’s room, I decide to take a quick peek around. Maybe if I have concrete proof, he’ll respond more honestly.

I look under his bed and even under the pillow. Nothing seems out of place in the closet, but when I open his dresser drawers, I quickly find a secret stash buried under his socks. Like Susan said, there are little erasers, a couple of coins, a tiny container of dried-up slime. Cheap, silly stuff that I would have bought for him if he’d asked.

Gathering the contraband items, I walk back downstairs, steeling myself for this confrontation.

“Jason? I need to talk to you again,” I say, taking a seat on the couch. He puts down the Lego pieces he was holding and notices what I have in my hands.

“Where did you find that? Did you look through my room?” he asks, voice rising.

“Jason, we need to talk about why you took the other kids’ stuff. You can ask me if you want to have some little things to fidget with. But stealing other people’s things is wrong,” I say, taking care to keep my voice calm.

“You shouldn’t have looked in my drawer!” Jason yells.

My heart pounds, and my hands tremble with adrenaline. “You shouldn’t have lied to me about taking this stuff, Jason. I only looked through your room because I knew you weren’t being honest with me.”

“You’re not allowed to do that! You stay out of my room!” he screams, hands clenched in fists.

“I’m your mom now, Jason, so I do get to look through your stuff if I think you’re doing something that’s not safe or that’s hurting other people,” I say, my own voice trembling with frustration.

“You’re not my mom! I don’t have a mom! You can’t tell me what to do!” Pure rage engulfs Jason’s entire body as he growls with anger. His narrowed eyes might as well be shooting real daggers.

It’s unnerving. Almost scary.

He screams with rage and then runs up the steps, slamming the door to his room behind him.

Trying to calm down my nervous system, I take several deep breaths. My thumb makes quick work of the clear polish on my fingernails as I contemplate what to do. Sometimes, being alone in his room helps him calm down. Maybe he’ll listen to some music and come down from the anger. Maybe I should give him a few minutes of space.

But when I hear the sound of ripping and more angry growls, I realize that giving him space right now isn’t going to be the right choice. I rush upstairs and turn the doorknob, only to be met with resistance trying to open the door. Thankfully, it’s only a pile of blankets and pillows blockaded against the door, so I push it open with little effort. I’m not at all prepared for the sight before me.

Jason is standing on his bed, ripping the signed poster of Griffin into shreds. The other players’ posters are already on the floor, ripped and crumpled in pieces.

As he continues tearing, Jason mutters, “These posters are stupid. I never wanted these. What a dumb way to decorate a room. I hate these posters. I hate everything in this room.”

Tears spring to my eyes as I’m frozen in place.What is happening? What do I do?

My body instinctively takes over before my mind can think coherently, and I move toward Jason and try to take his hands. “Jason, stop.”

He hurls the remaining strips of poster to the floor before yelling, “No!”

Gently taking his hand, I say, “Bud, I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Can we sit down on the bed?” He yanks his hand away, so I lightly place an arm around his shoulders instead, easing him toward me. Heresists at first but suddenly wraps his arms around my neck and bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Miss Danae! I’m sorry I made a mess! I’m such a bad kid!” he gasps between sobs.

I ease us to a sitting position and scratch his back. “You’re not a bad kid. You’re an amazing kid. And I love you so much.”

“You can’t love me. I did bad stuff,” Jason says, still sobbing into my shoulder.

I nudge his chin so that he’ll look at me. “I do love you. Do you remember what I told you about what it means that I love you? That I choose you, that I’m with you one hundred percent, forever. You’re mine no matter what. No matter what you do, I’m not going to stop loving you, okay? I’m not leaving you, ever. You’re not leaving me, ever. You’re still stuck with me.”

Jason sniffles as he watches my face, as though looking for any signs that I’m lying. “Promise?”

I hug him as tight as I can without hurting him. “Promise.”