Page 121 of The Compass Series

DAMIAN - SEVEN YEARS OLD

M y bedroom door had a sign that said, “Do not enter” with a skull head sketched across it.

Mrs. Gable helped me draw it, because she thought I was talented.

She didn’t know what kind of art I’d do some day, but she believed I’d be good at whatever it was.

That was why she got me art supplies and a disposable camera to try different kinds of art.

Mr. Gable hung my sign on the bedroom door, and he said I deserved to have my own private space where I could escape.

I never had my own room before, so it kind of made me happy.

They’d turned my bedroom into the galaxy because I was obsessed with space. My bed was a rocket ship, and Mrs. Gable got a rotating light gadget that would project the stars across my room at night. I was afraid of the dark, so that kept me feeling safe.

They even got star-shaped night-lights because the Gables cared a lot about making me feel comfortable.

I’d been with the Gables for months now, the longest I’d ever been with any family.

We even celebrated holidays together, and they were planning a big birthday party for me coming up.

It was nice being with them after bouncing around a few times from home to home.

Temporary homes.

This one felt a little different, though. Maybe the Gables would want me to kind of stay forever. Maybe I could be a Gable, too.

I’d even get a brother. Jordan was a year older than me, but we were best of friends.

We talked about all kinds of things together like video games and anime.

He was my best friend in the whole world, which was cool because I’d never had a best friend before.

I never stayed in one place long enough for someone to want to be my best friend.

Next week was my birthday, and I’d be turning eight. I was excited because the Gables promised me a big party with all things space, from the decorations to the cake, to the bounce house in the backyard.

Everything was going good until Mr. Gable cheated on Mrs. Gable.

My perfect family was beginning to fall apart right before my eyes. Mr. Gable moved out, and Mrs. Gable cried every single day after that. She even missed my birthday even though I was sitting inside the same house as her.

Four weeks passed. Mrs. Gable hardly got out of bed anymore. Jordan didn’t know what to do, either, so we stayed out of her way and let her be sad. Sometimes, I’d go out to the backyard and pick her flowers to try to make her feel better. It didn’t work. Maybe I was picking the wrong flowers.

Three more weeks passed. Mrs. Gable wasn’t getting better.

She called for me to come to the living room one afternoon after Jordan finished helping me with my homework. I walked downstairs and felt as if someone punched me in the gut.

My social worker, Ms. Kelp, sat there on the couch next to Mrs. Gable.

They both looked as if they were going to cry, which meant that I was about to cry, too. I always ended up crying when Ms. Kelp showed up unexpectedly because that meant she was going to take me away.

“No,” I whispered, my voice shaky. My hands were shaking, too, and I felt as if I were going to throw up.

Ms. Kelp stood from the couch slowly as if any sudden movement would turn my world upside down. Yet there I was, already twisting and turning and losing my footing.

“Please don’t let her take me,” I cried, rushing over to Mrs. Gable. “Please. I know I’ve messed up and didn’t help you when you were sad, but I swear I’ll help more, please. I’ll do better. And I can?—”

“Damian, please, stop,” Mrs. Gable begged, wiping tears from her face. “It’s just with the separation and pending divorce with Jerry, I cannot truly hold the space needed to care for you in the way you deserve.”

“But what about Jordan? You’re keeping him! You can keep me the same way. I’ll stay out of the way. I’ll be good, I promise. Why does Jordan get to stay, and I have to go?”

“Well, Damian, sweetheart…Jordan is my son…”

I swallowed hard but still couldn’t breathe. “So am I.”

She blinked her eyes closed, and I wrapped my arms around her. “Please, please. Don’t make me go.”

I couldn’t leave. I had a sign on my bedroom door. It was my door. This was my family. I couldn’t lose them. Maybe I could go stay with Mr. Gable for some days, and then Ms. Gable wouldn’t be overwhelmed anymore. Maybe if I ate less, she wouldn’t feel like I was too much. Maybe if I stayed quiet?—

“Please, Mom,” I choked out with tears falling down my face.

She removed my arms from her.

She removed me from her life.

Ms. Kelp began walking toward me, and I shouted. “No! No! I’m not going back to a group home!”

Before she could reply, I darted toward the front door and ran outside into the night. I heard them screaming my name, calling for me to come back, but I kept going because I didn’t want to start over. I didn’t want to go to another family who wouldn’t want me.

It didn’t take long for Ms. Kelp to find me. She took me back to a group home, a different one this time, but still, they all felt the same—lonely.

I wanted a forever home, but maybe some kids didn’t get that kind of thing.

Maybe some kids just got temporary homes.

Even though I thought this one felt like forever.