Beckham O’Neil
I dug the cheap worn out spikes into the track. I was balancing on the balls of my feet in an athletic position. My body tensed up, getting ready to take off on my command. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My legs pushed off and in a split second I was gone.
I lived for the rush of running. The adrenaline that coursed through my veins as my feet pounded around the track. The wind pushed my body, trying to slow me down. My breathing became short and fast. I couldn’t help but smile as I completed the lap; I knew it was a personal best. I looked down at the watch around my right wrist. I had run it in 47.32 seconds. A whole two seconds faster than my run last week. I guess my anger helped me run faster.
I downed the water bottle and started heading home. Well, I guess it wasn’t home anymore. After my encounter with Carroll, I had grabbed my spikes and walked to the track. A good run always calmed me down.
“Beckham, sweetie, I’m really sorry about all of this.” Carroll, my fifty-something year old social worker, put a comforting hand on my shoulder, trying to ease the blow. The crazy red haired woman was always nice to me, even if I wasn’t nice back.
I shrugged it off, “I don’t care.”
Her huge brown eyes gave me sympathy, “Mr. and Mrs. Sheppard just can’t handle a seventeen year old boy right now, not with the new baby on the way.” That and the countless things I had gotten in trouble for.
I kept my face straight, my blue eyes cold. I crossed my arms, “Fantastic.”
“But, there is a family that is willing to take you. If you want to go.”
“I guess I don’t really have an option, now do I?” I held back on more sarcastic comments.
She smiled, “Okay. Well, I brought you some bags,” She held up a box of black trash bags. I hated that they made me put my stuff in garbage bags, as if my stuff was garbage, as if I was garbage. “I will be back in a little while to pick you up.” She got up and walked over to the door, but before leaving she turned and looked at me, “I have a feeling this next family is going to be the last.” I didn’t really trust her feelings, considering every time she said that, I ended being shipped off a few months later.
I walked through the door of the small two bedroom house and made a bee line for the second bedroom. I pulled all of my clothes out of the drawers and the closet and stuffed them into the trash bags. I pulled all of the books and CDs off of the shelf and dumped them into a separate bag. The only thing I placed into the bags gently was my spikes. As I was packing, Landon came in. He had been my foster father for a whole three months. He was in his early thirties, with light brown hair and blue eyes.
“Hey, Beck.” He tried greeting me in a friendly way, but I didn’t respond to him. I didn’t even stop packing. “Look, man. I’m sorry about this.” He put his hand on the back of his head. He realized that I wasn’t going to say anything to him. “Okay. Well, if you need me to help you with anything just let me know.” He awkwardly walked out and I moved on to packing my stuff in the bathroom.
An hour later Carroll was back, ready to take me to my next home. Landon and Mary Sheppard walked us out to the car. I threw my garbage bags in to the back of her SUV. I leaned against the car as Mary apologized once again to Carroll.
“It’s okay, Mary, Beckham understands and he will be perfectly fine with his new family.” They were the same words she said to every couple that no longer wanted me. She shook Landon’s hand and gave Mary a small hug.
Mary gave me a sad smile, “Good bye, Beck.”
I didn’t say anything back, I just turned and got into the car while Carroll turned the key and the engine roared to life. Carroll pulled away and I watched the small house get even smaller in the distance.
“Your going to like this new family, Beckham.” She always called me by my legal name, even though I had told her countless times to call me Beck.
“I highly doubt that.”
She smiled, ignoring my comment, “Paul and Jane Westcott are really good people. They live in Kingsland. He’s a football coach, football is really big in Kingsland, and Jane is an English teacher, you like to read. I think they will be a great fit for you.”
I sighed. “It’s like a match made in heaven.”
“They also have a dog. I know you like dogs.”
The last time I even mentioned the word 'dog' to her was when I was 10. Every 10 year old boy likes dogs. “Awesome.”
Again she ignored my comment, “So, I want you to be good, okay? Be nice to them. I want the best for you, and I think you could live here for a long time, but you have to be on your best behavior. It’s only a year before you turn eighteen. I want your last year in the system to be your best, but that’s only going to happen if you stay out of trouble.” I knew she was right.
I didn’t say anything for the rest of the trip. About an hour later, Carroll shouted with excitement, “Welcome to Kingsland!” I looked out the window. It was a small town with only one stop light. We passed a diner, a small grocery store, and about eighteen different collectable plate stores. I mentally groaned. We turned down a street called Peach. We stopped in front of a small one story house.
“Peach?”
Carroll smiled, “Yeah, isn’t it cheery?”
“Oh, yeah.” I muttered sarcastically. This is hell.
We got out of the car and headed up the concrete walkway. Carroll rang the door bell while I stood behind her. A few minutes later a man answered the door. Carroll gave him a big smile, “Hey, Mr. Westcott.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Sanders.” He stuck out his hand which she gladly took. “Well, come on in. Jane went to the store to pick up some things we forgot to get.”
Carroll strode forward into the house and I trailed behind her. We stopped in the small living room, just big enough to fit an arm chair, a couch, and an outdated entertainment center. Paul turned and smiled at me, “You must be Beckham.”
“He likes to be called Beck.” Carroll politely corrected him.
He smiled in response. “Well, Beck, Janie and I have been looking forward to your arrival. We got your bedroom all set up and everything.”
Paul Westcott was probably 45 years old. His light brown, almost blonde, hair was starting to grey slightly, and wrinkles started to appear around his hazel eyes. He was of medium build, not one of those fat old farts you’d typically expect from a football coach. I could tell the smile he wore was genuine. He was wearing a maroon collard shirt with the words Heritage Football stitched on the upper left in gold and dark wash jeans. “Do you like dogs, Beck?”
I shrugged.
Carroll rolled her eyes and responded for me, “He likes dogs.”
I couldn’t stand the awkward small talk any longer. “I’m going to get my stuff.” I turned and headed outside back towards the car. I grabbed the black bags filled with my garbage and headed back inside. Once I reached the house, Paul directed me to the spare bedroom. I threw my stuff down on the floor at the foot of the bed.
The room looked like it belonged to the baby of the NFL and NASCAR. There were posters of every car known to man and its driver sprawled across the walls. The bed spread had the different logos of the NFL teams. On the dresser there was a football helmet signed by players from the Dallas Cowboys. There were different books on the shelves, held up by racecar book ends. It hurt my eyes to look at it all.
“Well, Beckham. I have to go.” Carroll gave me a good-bye hug, one that I didn’t give back and whispered in my ear, “remember what I said in the car.” She then smiled and left the house, leaving me alone with Paul Westcott.
A few minutes after we stood there awkwardly in silence, Paul broke the ice. “You don’t talk much do you?”
I shrugged, “got nothing to say.”
Paul nodded in understanding. “Do you like football?”
I shrugged. I never really watched it. Sports weren't really my thing.
“What do you like?” I didn’t respond. “Do you like to read? Jane likes to read, we have some great books if you want to read.”
I nodded, acknowledging what he said.
“Are you hungry?”
I shook my head and sat down on the bed.
“Is the bed comfortable enough? Do-.”
“Eight.”
He gave me a puzzling look. “What are you talking about?”
“Nine. Just counting how many questions until you hit twenty.”
He got the hint that I wanted to be alone and left the room. I go up and started unloading my things into the drawers of the dresser. I placed my books and CDs on empty spaces on the self. It was the same routine as every other time I had to switch families. It didn’t take me long to organize my stuff, seeing as I didn’t have very much of it. After I was finished I put a paperback into my jacket pocket and headed out.
“Where are you going?” Paul called from his arm chair in the living room.
“Out.” I said as I closed the front door.