The boy immediately put his book down.
He didn’t wait for an adult.
He simply stood, crouched beside her, and began gathering the crayons.
One blue crayon rolled beneath a table.
He actually lowered himself to the floor to reach it.
Then he handed the full box back to the girl.
She smiled.
He nodded once.
Then returned to his chair and reopened his book.
“Who is that?” I asked.
Denise had walked up beside me.
Her expression changed when she saw who I meant.
“Luke.”
“How old?”
“Sixteen.”
“Can I meet him?”
She hesitated.
“You should know something first.”
“What?”
“He’s had a lot of placements.”
“How many?”
“Ten.”
Ten.
Ten houses.
Ten families.
Ten times unpacking.
Ten times packing again.
“Was he violent?” I asked.
I hated asking, but I asked.
“No.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Did he hurt younger children?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Then what happened?”
