“They were good people,” he said. “Stable. Nice house.”
He stared at the table.
“But they didn’t want me too.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“They wanted a little girl.”
He gave a shrug that didn’t fool me.
“Not a teenage boy.”
Everyone started asking Luke what he thought would be best for Emma.
Caseworkers.
The prospective parents.
Other adults.
“They kept saying she deserved stability,” Luke whispered. “That she deserved a permanent family.”
He gave a bitter little laugh.
“And then they’d look at me.”
“Like they wanted you to agree?”
He nodded.
“What kind of brother says no when someone offers his little sister a family?”
He was fourteen.
Fourteen.
And adults had somehow convinced him that giving up his sister was a decision he was responsible for making.
“So I said yes,” he whispered.
Then Emma left.
Luke stayed behind.
—
“After she was adopted,” he said, “I started ruining my placements.”
