sighs. She doesn’t even glance at her notebook and whatever checklist is in there. “I see you haven’t got a lot of furniture yet.” She looks around, noting the battered wooden table and chairs she’s sitting at, then takes in the rest of the room.
The place is open plan, which Jareth expected. His mother always loved open living spaces. Less corners to collect dust, she’d say. It means the dining area flows to the lounge room, a vast expanse of timber floor because his father had an allergy to dust mites and hated carpet.
Shandra’s eyes keep scanning because there’s nothing to catch her gaze. Nothing to stop and study. The walls are blank.
The room is empty.
“It’s really…bare, Jareth. Have you thought of furniture? Maybe a TV?”
“I don’t really watch TV.”
He doesn’t need a TV. His mind plays its own movies. Over and over and over.
“And the walls…” She looks away as if she doesn’t like what’s there. “They’re quite bleak. Maybe some bookshelves?” Her face lights up. “Maybe some photos. They could really warm the place up.”
Jareth glances at the wall that he just hurled his grief over. It’s returned to being nothing more than a cream canvas.
He should’ve known his paintings would be a harbinger of what was to come.
The ability to paint with nothing but his hands had felt like a gift. But like anything that mattered in his life, his paintings disappear with time. They don’t last.
Sometimes, it’s like they never existed.
As if she’s read his mind, Shandra leans forward, pressing a hand onto the table. “You used to like to paint, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“It might be helpful to give it a try again.”
What for? Those useless skills weren’t able to save his parents.
Jareth shrugs, his hands still in his pockets. “Maybe.”
Shandra sighs, leaning back and withdrawing her hand. Her face hardens in a way Jareth hasn’t seen before. “The school rang me. They said you’ve yet to attend.”
“I’m up to date with all my assessments. I got an A on my last assignment. I suspect that’s better than quite a few others who are enrolled there.”
“Attendance is a requirement of passing, Jareth.”
And there’s no one to home school him.
Jareth’s life has come full circle. He’s an orphan again.
He finally pulls his hands out of his pockets, only to cross his arms. “I can learn perfectly fine from home.”
Shandra’s face molds into another expression Jareth hasn’t seen before. It fills with sympathy.
Jareth’s spine stiffens. There are several reasons he’s realized that keeping to himself is best. Avoiding pity is high up on the list.
“You know, you’re not the only minor who lives independently. I have another case just like you.”
Jareth doesn’t say anything. Although it’s sad that someone else has lost their parents and lives on their own, he doubts he has anything in common with this kid.
“It’s quite unusual, actually, to have two cases so similar in the same area. He lives on his own, too, the sole beneficiary of a large estate.” She leans forward. “But he goes to school. He hasn’t isolated himself.”
Jareth’s muscles tighten. Yep, he has nothing in common with this boy.
Obviously, that boy didn’t lose the people who were his world.
Obviously, that boy hasn’t realized it’s easier to stay separate. Less…painful. Safer.
Obviously, that boy wasn’t the one who failed to save the two people who meant everything to him.
Shandra’s eyes narrow. “I’m reducing my visits with him because my manager isn’t breathing down my neck about it, saying words like post-traumatic stress disorder and support services.” Jareth goes to say something but Shandra shoots her hand up in the air. “And foster care.”
That silences him. No one will ever replace my parents, he thinks fiercely. Ever.
Shandra waits, her notebook sitting open beside her, the rest of her becoming as unmoving as her hair. She knows she’s laid down the gauntlet.
She knows that page is waiting for her to record his decision.
When Jareth moved here two months ago, explaining that even staying in the same city he grew up in was too painful, child protective services had been willing to go along with it. Especially when his parents’ portfolio had included a place in Mirror Point, the place where he was first adopted.
A new house.
A new start.
There’s no way Shandra can know that Jareth was running away from more than just memories.
That maybe by staying away from others, Jareth’s keeping them just as safe as himself.
And foster care isn’t staying away from others.
Jareth’s hands fall to his sides, cold, hard defeat settling