Nick Webster

Foster Care

             I was at that place for several weeks.  It was a homeless shelter for young people as the police officer originally said.  I picked up a lot of the language talking to some of the other children.  They also let me read from a dictionary, so I could pick up more of the language.  It was a confusing language to learn how to speak.  So many of the kids used words that weren’t in the dictionary.  I didn’t know what to think of it.

            After two weeks or so, I picked up quite a bit of the language.  There were only boys at this shelter, but a lot of them were really mean.  I didn’t care.  I knew I wasn’t going to stay at this shelter for too long.  

            After a few weeks at the shelter, I learned a few things about the shelter.  Most of these boys were abused by relatives, neglected, running away from their homes, or already criminals.  There wasn’t anyone extremely violent or anything, but many of them had shoplifted or stolen from the other kids.  I can’t say that I am any better than them at this point.  I completely understand why they were doing what they were doing.  But I didn’t want to stay with these kids forever.  I knew they were very bad influences for me, so I knew I had to be picky about what I learned from these kids.

            Additionally, I wasn’t the youngest kid at the shelter, but I also wasn’t the oldest.  The oldest kids were the ones in charge of the rest of us.  Whatever they said when the adults weren’t around is what would happen.  I wasn’t the one of the biggest or oldest kids, so I often had to “step into line” as they would say.

            Another thing that I learned was that this country wasn’t exactly what Nikki thought it would be.  I think there was rumors that the United States gave great care to foster children, but it didn’t seem like it based on my experiences.  I could be wrong.  Perhaps it was just this place?  It’s a big country, and I’m sure there are great places just like poor ones.

            Because of their experiences, there wasn’t a lot of hope among these kids.  Most of the older kids believed they would not be adopted by a family.  A lot of them had been in and out of the foster care system or homeless shelters for years, and they only grew colder as a result.  I felt sad for them.  I knew I couldn’t stick around this area for long.  I didn’t want to have the same fate as many of these kids.  I wanted to help them, but I needed to help myself first.  There wasn’t much I could do now with no money, no resources, and no connections to anyone else.  I made a promise to myself that one day I would help kids like them.  I knew exactly what it felt like to be cold and hungry.  To be on the brink of death.  To feel helpless and not see a future.

            The last major thing I learned was that I couldn’t give up.  I had come so far, and I should be more optimistic.  I’m sure Nikki was alive.  If I was alive at this point, she had to be alive too.  She’s far more resourceful and skilled than I am.  I needed to reconnect with her.

            That’s why I requested to be relocated to a different agency.  I overheard some of the staff talking.  They were saying that they were understaffed, overworked, and lacked resources to adequately serve all the students.  Why not remove one child from the picture then?  I had no clue if I could or not, but why not find out?

            One of the workers told me that it would be difficult because they would need to apply for a transfer on my behalf.  They typically didn’t approve transfers without a sufficient reason for it.  The shelter received funds for each child they have, so losing a kid means losing funding.  She said she would find out if she could help me out.  So, there was some hope, but I was probably going to be out of luck.  I weighed my options.  I could wait for an answer.  But what if my transfer request was declined?  I could hit the road again.  But how would I travel?  Do I steal a car?  Do I try to hitch a ride with someone?  I didn’t have any money to help me out.  I guess I’d just take it one day at a time for now.

            It took the worker a couple of days for that worker to get back to me.  While I really wanted to be transferred, I didn’t get an optimistic response from her the first time around.  This time around I was pleasantly surprised.  There were some things that would be in my favor, but there were some things that would not.  At this point, I was in this country illegally since I didn’t have a passport or any other official credential that justified why I was in this country.  I also didn’t have any other identifying credentials, such as a birth certificate or a social security number.  There was a strong chance that I would be deported if someone reported me to the government.  That obviously wasn’t good for me.

            There were somethings that were in my favor, however.  The agency had been housing me for weeks without reporting me.  The lady thought they were getting funding for me to stay here, but I guess they weren’t.  Actually, they could potentially be fined since they were housing an illegal immigrant.  That was the term they used to describe someone who was in the country without permission.  They were already short on resources, so they didn’t want to give up any more financial resources because of a fine.  So, she had suggested that I sneak onto and hitch a ride on one of their material trucks.  That way, I could be on my way to a new location, and they didn’t have to deal with the punishment they would get for housing me.

            They had food trucks deliver food once per week, and one came the next.  However, they would be difficult for me to travel in without the driver knowing.  They’re storage units are very cold for cold, and it would be dangerous for me to stay in one of those for several hours or even an entire day.  I wouldn’t go hungry, but I would likely die of the cold temperatures.  They had material trucks come about once per month.  These trucks dumped off various materials, such as toilet paper, paper towels, wipes, clothes, and other cleaning and bathroom supplies.  They bought things in bulk, so they had trucks deliver to them.

            The worker was super nice about the whole situation.  She was more concerned that I would be okay than she was about her place of work receiving a fine.  I think she could potentially lose her job if they lose too much money.  I assured her that I would be okay.  Honestly, I didn’t know if I would be okay or not, though.  I had survived on my own thus far, but how much longer would that luck last?

            About a week later, there was a food truck that was heading west after dropping food off at this agency.  I asked what was out westward for me.  “This is the Midwest.  There’s not much out there except cornfields and cows.”  She told me a little bit about the places I could go.  Directly west of us would be suburbs with a lot of rich people.  It would be hard for me to fit in there.  West of the suburbs would be a lot of cornfields with some cities spread out here and there.  If I wanted to keep traveling west, I would eventually hit a big river called the Mississippi River and then the next state called Iowa.  She told me there wasn’t much in Iowa, but the people were friendly.

            I thought about that.  “Iowa sounds nice,” I told her.  She told me that I would need to work on my English, particularly my accent, if I wanted to stay in the country and don’t mention that I was from France.  I could be deported if I wasn’t careful.  I appreciated her help.  I had a game plan for now.

            The lady actually helped me sneak onto the truck too.  She started talking to the worker a little longer than usual.  She left the backdoor unlocked for me to sneak out.  I waited for the coast to be cleared.  When I thought no one was looking, I casually walked to the back of the truck and jumped into the back while the door was still open.  I could still see the lady worker talking to the driver right before I hopped into the truck.  I gave her a smile, and I could tell she could see me right before I hid in the truck.

            If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know what would become of me.  Like the grandma in Russia, I would be forever grateful that she helped me along the way.  I would be in a debt I would never repay.

            I found a good hiding spot behind some boxes.  It would be a long drive, but I had to make sure that I was careful when they started loading or unloading the boxes.  I didn’t want to be discovered or crushed either.

            I patiently waited.  A few minutes went by, and the truck started moving.  I was going to start the next chapter of my life.  The last two chapters seemed to go by quickly.  France was so much fun but went by so quickly.  Chicago was a learning experience.  Although the start of it was a drag, everything picked up after a while.  Who knows where this chapter would end up for me?  Here we go.  Let’s find out.