HIS FAVORITE TOY

Chapter 3

As the Greyhound bus droned on through mile after mile of dusty farmland, I gazed out the window and thought back on how I had got here and especially the flurry of activity in the last few days. Just a short time ago, I thought I was all alone in the world; now I was on my way to stay with an aunt and uncle that up until two days ago, I never knew existed.

My name's Joey, I'm 13and I'm an only child. Actually, I guess I should say that I "was" an only child. My parents had been killed in a car accident when I just a toddler. They'd left me with a babysitter that day while they went to a friend's wedding out of town. The accident happened on the way home; a drunk driver hit them broadside and they never saw it coming. They were both pronounced dead at the scene of the accident.

From what I'd been told, the authorities hunted high and low for any relatives of my parents but couldn't find any. Eventually I was made a ward of the state and ever since then, I'd lived in a number of different institutions and foster homes. Some of the people in the foster homes were pretty nice, and I'm not sure why, but I never seemed to stick anywhere. Maybe it was because I was too shy; I don't know.

I'd always been pretty small and frail for my age. The bigger kids always used to pick on me and so I came to just keep to myself most of the time. I read a lot and I've never been very good at sports. I was always pretty quiet, and as I quickly found out, you got into less trouble if you kept your mouth shut. I never even had a regular best friend. Being in group homes, other kids just seemed to come and go, and in the few foster homes I was in, I was always worried about getting to know anybody when it likely wasn't going to last anyways. So I mostly just learned to rely on myself.

Being shy and keeping to myself most of the time, I guess you could say I was pretty naïve about a lot of stuff. I had never had a girlfriend, and figured I wouldn't even know what to do if a girl came right up and started talking to me. That was okay though, I never really worried about it too much; after all, that was the only life I knew.

So over the years, I'd been shuffled from one group home to another, with a few short stays in foster homes mixed in every once in awhile. Like about six months ago, I'd been sent to live with the Quigleys; a couple who already had a boy and girl of their own close to my age. When they made the decision to take me in, I think they were just trying to be good citizens or something. The kids never liked me or even seemed to make any kind of effort. After a little over five months of me trying to fit in and their kids complaining all the time, the Quigleys had had enough. They probably would have liked to get rid of me sooner but they probably felt guilty and kept me on until the end of the school term. They obviously didn't want me hanging around for summer vacation, and that's how I ended up back at Monroe's about two weeks ago.

"Monroe's Group Home" was a state run institution for boys. They usually housed about ten boys at a time with about four or five councilors overseeing us in various shifts. That's where I'd been living for the last while before I went to the Quigleys. It was a big old farmhouse that the government had bought a long time and set up to house boys like me. And that's where I'd first met Mr. Jarvis.

Mr. Jarvis was the senior councilor at Monroe's and had been there long before I was first sent there. He was probably in his early forties and was married. While some of the younger less experienced councilors sometimes stayed with us overnight in the group home, Mr. Jarvis always arrived early in the morning and left late in the afternoon to go home to his wife. I never saw the woman in all the time I'd been there. Apparently he kept his life away from the group home as private as possible. The only thing we knew was that he never had any kids of his own. I never even knew his first name. While the younger councilors always had us call them by their first names, with Mr. Jarvis, it was always "Mr. Jarvis".

He was kind of a gruff man, not much on small talk and always right to the point. He was stoutly built and getting a little heavy around the midsection, like many men his age. I guess you'd say he was pretty average looking, not ugly, but Hollywood wasn't knocking on his door either. I had always tried to keep out of his way and he seemed to respect the fact that I always tried to look out for myself without asking others for help. A couple of times when bigger boys had been on the verge of picking on me, Mr. Jarvis had stepped in just in time to smooth things over. Although he never made a gesture to indicate he was looking for thanks, for some reason it made me feel a little more safe to think that Mr. Jarvis was kind of looking out for me. Like the day the Quigleys had dropped me back at Monroe's...

I'd gotten back in the late afternoon and just had time to stow my stuff back in my old room and hurry back downstairs if I wanted to get some supper. All of the other boys had already finished but there was still a little ham and macaroni and cheese left for me. I was starving and as I sat by myself in the big dining room, I eagerly dug in. I turned as I heard the gruff voice of Mr. Jarvis behind me.

"So Joey, I heard you were coming back," he said as he walked across the room towards me.

"Hi Mr. Jarvis," I said as I washed down my mouthful of food with a drink of milk.

"They didn't treat you badly, did they?" he asked with a tone of serious intent in his voice.

"No sir. They treated me okay. Their own kids never seemed to take to me; that's all," I said with a big sigh. I used to get real sad when these kinds of things happened, now I guess I was just a little more used to it.

"Did they ever feed you?" he asked as he looked me up and down. "I thought you were skinny before; there's almost nothing left of you, boy."

"They fed me Mr. Jarvis. I think I'm the same as when I left here."

"I don't know. You don't look so healthy. I think you need some vitamins," he said as he scrutinized me from top to bottom. "I want you to get a good night's rest, then report to my office right after breakfast at 8:00am sharp. You got that?" He pointed his big index finger at me to make sure I understood.

"Yes sir, 8:00am sharp."

"Okay, it's time for me to go home," he said as he turned and walked away. As he got to the door of the room, he turned and looked back at me, "Joey, I'm sorry about what happened with the Quigleys. I know that kind of thing is disappointing. While you're here, I'll make sure you're taken good care of." He gave me a kind of a shrug and a look that for him passed for a comforting smile.