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I marvel at her empathy and her selflessness. I marvel at this woman who does so much for so many people without any true realization of the lives she’s changing becausesheexists.

“Have you known Clementine for a long time?” I ask as Rochelle takes me on a tour of the group home.

“I started here the year Clem began volunteering,” she explains. “I think it’s been five years now.”

“Wow,” I breathe out. “Do a lot of kids come and go in that amount of time?”

We walk into the kitchen area, and it’s bigger than one that’s traditionally seen in a standard sized house, with its bare counter space, double sized stove and oven, and huge kitchen sink.

There’s a large adjoining area with a few teenagers sitting around doing what looks to be homework.

A few other children are cleaning up after dinner, each of them clearly having a task they need to complete. From the outside it looks like a well-oiled machine, something I’m not too naive to know isn’t always the case.

Rochelle lowers her voice, bringing her mouth closer to my ear. “For most kids it’s in and out. But there are kids who truly have no one and spend a big part of their childhood in places like this.”

Just as Rochelle’s words land painfully in my chest, Clementine walks in from another entrance, this time four other residents following her, each one a different age.

They join the teenagers around the table, and Clementine glances up, smiling widely when she notices me. She whispers into the little blond girl’s ear, and the girl leaves her and walks straight to Rochelle and me.

She puts her hands on her hips. “Clem said that everyone has to help make my cake and that includes you two.”

“Well, someone has to watch the rest of the house,” Rochelle says. “But you can take Miss Zara.”

I hold my hand out to the little girl. “I’m Zara. What’s your name?”

“I’m Madison.” She places her hand in mine, then drags me to the table toward Clementine, clearly not wanting to waste cake time with talking. “Clem, I brought Miss Zara. Does this mean we have everything we need? Can we start baking now?”

Clementine’s eyes twinkle as she taps two fingers to her lips in concentration. “Well, if Miss Zara’s here, we definitely have everything we need.”

24

CLEM

Zara and I climb back in the car, with two slices of cake wrapped up on my lap, a gift from Madison. Zara surprises me when she turns in her seat instead of starting thecar.

“Thank you so much for bringing me tonight,” she says. “I really can’t explain how grateful I am, and just how great those kids are.”

Zara doesn’t say it with any disbelief, but I know from experience just how misunderstood children of the system truly are, and all it takes is to make the time to spend with them to know they’re all products of their circumstances. But children are like many things in life; if you nurture them positively, they can and will flourish.

“I’m glad you had a good time. I think Madison traded me for you by the end of it.”

“She’s so cute,” Zara coos. “She’s the youngest in the home, right?”

“The age ranges are usually eight to twenty-one, but you will rarely find anybody who turns eighteen and chooses to stay unless it’s a court order,” I explain. “And sometimes, like in Madison’s case, they have to make exceptions because there’s nowhere else for her to go.”

It isn’t my place to delve into or discuss anyone’s history. I listen when Rochelle tells me the things I need to know and I help where I can. In Madison’s case, it’s hard being so young and not truly understanding the details of your own life, so if I have an opportunity to make her smile, I take it.

Zara nervously runs her fingers across her lips. “What was it like when you grew up there?”

I could tell from her expression that the question has sat on the edge of her tongue for a while, and she’s just been waiting for the right time to ask. I mirror her pose and rest my back on the car door. Talking about my upbringing isn’t as painful as people would think; it’s more just a sequence of events that led to a sequence of revelations that led me here—and sometimes thinking about that makes me sad.

“It was fine,” I say truthfully. “I moved around a bit before I got here, but when I found out I was staying, Frankie and Arlo took me under their wing, and eventually Remy came along and then Lennox. And we found our family in each other.”

“I can see how much they love you,” she says. “The way they came out of the house when I picked you up was typical big brother behavior.”

I huff out a laugh. “Sometimes adulthood is harder. We’ve all been through a lot together. Arlo’s recovery, Frankie moving to Seattle, and Lennox’s hearing loss.”

“He lost his hearing?” Her brows knit together. “The brother I didn’t meet, right?”