Blue (7 page)

“You're his legal guardian?” the vice principal asked her, and Ginny paused before she answered.

“No, I'm not. His aunt still is, although he doesn't live with her.”

“Then we'll need her signature on the forms,” he said, handing them to her. “Once she signs them, we'll enroll him in eighth grade. He's got some catching up to do, if he's been out of school since September.” Blue looked morose at that, and they left a few minutes later. He glanced at Ginny in despair.

“Do I really have to?”

“Yes, you do. And we need to get those forms signed by your aunt. Can I call her?” He hesitated for a long time and then nodded.

“Yeah, I guess so. She doesn't care if I go to school or not.”

“I'm sure she does,” Ginny said firmly. She knew he was right but couldn't say so, since he didn't know she'd spoken to his aunt. “And I care. You have no choice, Blue, unless you want to work at the lowest-level jobs all your life. You can't get a decent job without even finishing eighth grade.”

He knew she was right and hated to hear it, and that night they called his aunt. She had no problem about signing the papers. She warned Ginny again that he'd drop out and run away, and she agreed to sign the forms if Ginny brought them to the hospital that night, which she agreed to do. Charlene's shift started at eleven, and before Ginny left, she asked Blue if he wanted to come, and he shook his head from where he sat on the couch.

“I'll just wait here,” he said softly. He seemed to have no ties that meant anything to him. He had been set adrift and was swimming on his own. Ginny just didn't want him to drown in the process, and even though they hardly knew each other, she had made a commitment to help him and intended to see it through. It was why she was good at what she did in her current work. She never gave up on anyone, and was willing to keep plodding until she got results. Her motto was “Nothing is impossible,” as she had already said several times to Blue. And it made her heart ache for him that he felt so alone and disenfranchised that he didn't even want to see his aunt. She suspected that the final scene with Harold had been a bad one, probably worse than Charlene had said, for him to be so reluctant to see her now.

Ginny met Charlene at Mt. Sinai Hospital as promised—she was wearing her nurse's aide uniform. She was a pretty African American woman about Ginny's age, in her mid-thirties. When they talked Charlene mentioned randomly that Blue's father was white, and had the same dazzling blue eyes. The combination of his parents accounted for the light café au lait skin. Both women agreed that he was a beautiful boy.

“Thank you for what you're doing for him,” Charlene said with a sigh after she signed his school forms. “I hope he doesn't let you down.”

“He might,” Ginny said practically, “and if he drops out of school, I'll just drag him back in again. I don't intend to lose this fight.”

“Why? Why do you care about him so much?” Charlene looked puzzled. Ginny was white, lived in a good neighborhood, sounded like she had a good job, and must have had a life before she met him. Charlene couldn't figure out why she was concerned about the boy.

“He deserves a decent chance in life,” Ginny said with determination. “We all do. Some of us get luckier than others. He has a right to an amazing life, just like everyone else. He's still young. It can happen. He needs someone to go to bat for him, and believe in him. You've got your own kids to worry about. All I have is me, so I can spend some time on Blue.” There was something in Ginny's eyes that made Charlene wonder, it was a look of deep pain, but she didn't question her further. She just said that Blue was a lucky boy. But he hadn't been until then, Ginny knew, and just as she had done for others, she wanted to turn his luck around and give him a fighting chance at a better life than the one he had, sleeping in a sleeping bag in a utility shed on the streets, with no one to care about him.

Charlene thanked her again, and Ginny left, and hailed a cab on upper Fifth Avenue to go back to her apartment, where Blue was waiting for her.

Her cell phone rang when she was in the cab. She thought it might be Blue, but when she looked, she saw it was Becky.

“Where are you?” Becky sounded tired. At nine p.m. for her, it had been a long day, chasing all three kids and her father.

“I'm on my way back to the apartment. I just had to meet someone to get some papers signed.”

“For what?” Becky was half curious and half worried.

“For Blue. We got him enrolled back in school today. He's supposed to start tomorrow.” Ginny sounded victorious.

“What is it with you and this kid?” Becky asked, in an irritated tone. He had been in Ginny's life for exactly two weeks, and suddenly her whole life revolved around him.

“Everyone deserves a chance, Becky. Sometimes it takes a village to get there. I'm part of that village for him. And actually, other than an aunt who has no time or room for him, for now all he has is me. I'm used to cutting through red tape and tilting at windmills. This boy needs someone to believe in him, and at the moment I'm it.”

“He's lucky to have you on his team. I just don't see why you're doing it. What's the point? In a couple of weeks you'll be halfway around the world in some refugee camp again, getting shot at by rebels, and he'll probably be back on the streets. You pick all the unwinnable battles,” she said, with an edge to her voice. She wanted Ginny to have an ordinary life again.

“Yes, I do,” Ginny said quietly, not denying what her sister said. “Someone has to do it, and sometimes you win.” The cab was at her address by then, and she got off the phone. The minute she walked through the door, Blue turned to look at her with a lifetime of worry in his eyes.

“So did she sign it?” he asked. Ginny nodded and hung up her coat.

“She did and she sent you her love,” which wasn't entirely true. Charlene had actually never said that word to her. “You start school tomorrow,” she said firmly as Blue rolled his eyes and glared at her.

“Do I have to?” She glared right back at him and said he did, and he harrumphed off to the bathroom to brush his teeth, like the thirteen-year-old boy he was.

The next morning was slightly frantic as she made breakfast for him and he got ready for school. She handed him the supplies she'd bought, and she walked him to school. He didn't say anything, and she wondered if he was nervous about it. And when they got to the corner, she wished him a good day, and stood and watched him disappear into the building. She knew there was the possibility that he could walk out again as soon as she left. But she had done all she could to get him headed in the right direction. After that it was up to him, just like the children she helped take care of in refugee camps. But this was different. For some reason that even she didn't understand, she cared about this boy. Between the night she had first seen him dart into the shed and that morning, he had embedded himself into her heart. She had sworn to herself three years before that she would never love anyone again. And she sensed that Blue had made the same decision as a little boy when his mother died. And now here they were, two lost souls who had found each other and were swimming toward shore together side by side. It was a strange feeling, as she walked back to the apartment, and got to work on her laptop. She had let her work slide for the last few days, and she had to go into the office the next day. And soon she'd be leaving again. But at least Blue was on his way and back to school. Now all she had to do, before she left, was find him a place to live.

When Ginny went to the SOS/HR office, she found that they were considering two possible assignments for her. One in the north of India, where young girls were being sold into slavery by their fathers; a center there was offering them refuge if they were able to escape. Many of them had been severely abused, and all were in their very early teens. And the other location was in the mountains in Afghanistan, at a refugee camp where she had worked before. She was familiar with the area, and the work had been dangerous, exhausting, and rewarding. She was more inclined to go there, and it was more typical of the assignments she'd had before. The dangers there were obvious, and SOS/HR was extremely protective of their workers, ran their camps and programs with military precision, and worked in areas with a Red Cross and international presence. So Ginny knew that particularly in troubled areas, she wouldn't be out in the field alone. And in most instances, even the countries they were assigned to respected the humanitarian work they did, and their effectiveness in helping the local populace. Ginny rarely felt unwelcome in the countries where she went. Conditions were rigorous, and sometimes risky, but it was a first-rate operation, which was why she had signed on with them.

“You're not ready to give up the rough stuff yet?” her supervisor, Ellen Warberg, asked her with a sharp look. “Most people burn out after a year. You've taken all the toughest assignments for almost three years.”

“I like the challenge,” Ginny admitted quietly. Without exception, she had accepted hardship posts, and was known for it in the New York office. But thus far her work had been flawless and above reproach. And she showed no signs of slowing down. By the end of the conversation, they had agreed on the post in Afghanistan, and they wanted her to leave in two weeks. As she left the office, she thought about how little time it gave her to find a place for Blue.

When she got home, she looked on the Internet again, and found three possibilities. Before he came home from school, she made appointments at all three that week. She wanted to tie up all the loose ends before she left. If she managed to, it would make her brief hiatus in New York a success. She hadn't wasted her time.

Blue was doing fine at school. He had only been there for two days, and did his homework in an hour on her dining table every night. He said the courses and teachers were boring, but he showed no sign of dropping out yet, contrary to his aunt's prediction, but it was still early days. Ginny's fear was that he would drop out after she left. She thought that as long as she was there, he would stick with it, at least for now. But nothing about what he was doing in class inspired him. He said he had heard it all before, and she suspected that might be true. He was both bright and mature for his age, and his sphere of interests was broader than most kids. He seemed to know a lot about world events, and he was interested in music. The public school system was not set up, and didn't have the funds, to add to the general curriculum. It catered to the lowest common denominator in the classroom, not the highest. By the end of the week, he was being tested for the gifted program, and had been approved for special classes.

She hadn't told him about Afghanistan yet, but she planned to in the next few days. She wanted to see the adolescent shelters first. By the weekend, she had seen all three, and there was one she thought was perfect for him. The clients they accepted were between the ages of eleven and twenty-three. Some were reunified with their families after counseling, but it was rare. Most of the residents were in situations like Blue's, from broken homes where parents had died or disappeared or were in prison. The shelter encouraged everyone to go to school, helped them find part-time or full-time jobs, and offered counseling, medical care, and housing on a drop-in basis, or they could stay for as long as six months. It operated on a harm-reduction model, which meant that some of the residents were still on drugs, but had to meet certain criteria for behavior, and be using the drugs on a diminishing basis and never at the shelter. The program was practical and realistic, and the shelter had a bed available for Blue, but he had to want to be there—no one was going to force him to stay. He would live in a dorm room with five other boys close to his age, and he would get free meals every day. The entire program was free, funded by private foundations and government grants. It was tailor-made for Blue.

Ginny explained Blue's situation to the director, and how she had met him. The director, a woman Ginny's age, commented that he was lucky to have found a mentor in her.

“I'm going to be gone for three months. He can stay with me again when I get back, but I really want him to be here while I'm away,” she said hopefully.

“That's up to him,” Ann Owen, the director, said philosophically. “The entire facility is voluntary, and there are lots of other kids who want a place here if he doesn't.”

Ginny nodded, hoping Blue would agree to stay there, and not decide to fend for himself on the streets. He always had that option, and his aunt said he preferred it to living with rules and structure. He had been on his own too much, but so had most of the other kids at Houston Street, as the facility was called. Ginny told Blue about it after she saw it, and he looked glum.

“I don't want to stay there,” he said, looking sullen.

“You can't go back to the shed. This place will feed you, house you, and give you a bed. There are other kids your age and older to hang out with. If you get sick, they'll take care of you. Be smart, Blue. Don't put yourself at risk on the streets. That's a shit life and you know it.”

“I can do whatever I want out there,” he said stubbornly.

“Yeah, like freeze and starve, and get mugged and ripped off. Great choice if you ask me.” She was as wise as he was to what he'd have to face on the streets. “I'll be back at the end of April, and you can stay here again then if you want to. But you have to make it till then.” It sounded like a lifetime away to both of them, and he was still worried she'd never come back at all. “At least take a look at it with me on Saturday, then decide. It's up to you,” she reminded him. Ultimately, the choice was his, no one could force him. And it wasn't going to be as comfortable as her apartment, but he had only been there for a short time, and it was a lot better than the shed, and other places he'd stayed where he had to fend for himself. Ginny couldn't help wondering if he would be able to live with structure long term, and if he ever had. His life till now had been independent and free-form.

He looked like he had lead in his shoes when they went to see Houston Street on Saturday, and he almost crawled up the chipped steps to the main house. They had three facilities on the same block, one for women and two for men, as they referred to their young clients. Blue said not a word as they looked around. A few of the clients waved, and he ignored them. And he was stone-faced when they talked to the resident adviser, Julio Fernandez, who was warm and welcoming, with lots of information to impart. Blue listened to all of it and looked like he was about to cry.

“When would you want to come in, Blue?” Julio asked him directly.

“I don't,” he said bluntly, to the point of rude.

“That's too bad. We have a bed for you right now, but we won't for long. We get pretty full.” There was also a subway nearby that would get him to his school in minutes. And as Julio and Ginny talked about the facility, Blue drifted away. A moment later she noticed that someone had put some classical piano music on, which seemed a little ambitious to her. She paid no attention until Julio stopped talking and stared at something behind her. She turned to see what it was, and her mouth nearly fell open when she saw that it was Blue playing the piano, with an intense look on his face. As they watched him, he switched to jazz and continued playing. He paid no attention to them, and was intent and in another world as he played.

“That's quite a talent,” Julio said to her softly, as she continued to stare. Blue had never said that he played the piano. Nor had his aunt. He had simply said he liked music, but he was masterful at the keyboard. Some of the residents stopped and listened, too, and several people applauded when he finished, closed the piano, an old upright, and walked back to where Julio and Ginny were standing. He looked unimpressed by what he had just done, unlike everyone who had heard him play.

“So when do I have to move in?” he said to Ginny.

“You don't,” Julio interjected. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. This isn't jail. It's home to a lot of kids like you who want to be here, but everyone is here by choice. We don't take assignments from the courts.” They had room for four hundred and forty residents on any given day or night, and most of the time they were at capacity.

“When are you leaving?” Blue asked Ginny with a miserable expression.

“In ten days. You should probably move in next week before I leave, so I know how you're doing for a few days. We can still see each other once you're here.” She tried to sound encouraging, but he looked desperately unhappy.

“Okay, I'll come next week,” he said with a blank look. He seemed totally without emotion. They thanked Julio then and left, after confirming a bed there for Blue the following week, and the moment they left the building, Ginny looked at him in amazement.

“You never told me you play the piano,” she said, still stunned by how well he had played. It was masterful, he had an extraordinary gift, and she couldn't imagine how or where he'd learned.

“I don't. I just fool around,” he said with a shrug.

“That's not fooling around, Blue. That's real talent. Can you read music?” He was full of surprises.

“Sort of. I taught myself. I just kind of do it.”

“Well, you ‘just kind of do it' extremely well. You knocked me and everyone else on our asses.” He smiled at that then. And she didn't ask him how he liked the place—she could tell. And there was no point making an issue of it since he had agreed to go. But what she had just heard from him on the piano had seriously caught her attention. He had a talent that couldn't be ignored, even more so if he'd taught himself. He was a boy of many facets, as she was only just beginning to discover. “Where did you learn to play?” she asked him on the subway back uptown.

“There was a piano in the basement of the church my aunt goes to. The priest there used to let me play.” His face tightened as he said it, and she saw a strange look come into his eyes. “He was a jerk, though, so I stopped. I just play now whenever I see a piano. Sometimes I go into music stores, until they throw me out.” She wondered why his aunt hadn't said anything to her about it—it certainly was worth mentioning. Blue explained her silence on the subject a moment later when he said, “She doesn't know.”

“Why didn't you ever tell her that you play like that? She never heard you?”

“The priest said he'd get in trouble if anyone knew he let me play there, so we had to keep it a secret. I did.” And then he added a moment later, “My mama used to sing in a choir, and play the organ at church. I sat next to her sometimes during the services, but she never taught me to play. I just watched. I guess I could probably play the organ, too.” Ginny realized that she must have been a talented woman if she had a son with a musical gift like that.

And that night after dinner, she had an idea that came to her and she shared with Blue. “What if you apply to a music and art school for high school next fall? LaGuardia Arts is a public school. I could check it out if you want.”

“Why would they take me?” he said glumly. He was still depressed about the shelter he was moving into, although it didn't look bad to her.

“Because you have enormous talent,” she reassured him. “Do you know how rare it is to teach yourself to play like that?” He had bowled her over.

“I play the guitar, too,” he said vaguely, and she laughed.

“Any other abilities you're hiding from me, Blue Williams?”

“No, that's it,” he said, looking like a kid again. “But I'll bet I could learn to play drums. I've never tried, but I'd really like to.” She grinned, and he cheered up as the evening wore on. He gave her a neat list of the money she owed him for the odd jobs he'd done for her. He'd kept careful track. She paid him, and he was very pleased. Most of all she could feel how sad he was that she was leaving, and how worried he was about her. “What if you never come back?” he asked her, panicked.

“I will,” she said quietly. “Trust me. I've never gotten hurt, and I always come back.” She had reassured him before, but he was still worried. In his world, you lost people forever.

“You'd better come back,” he said with a dark look, and she hugged him before he went to bed that night. There were times when he really seemed like a child to her, and at others he was streetwise way beyond his years. He had seen too much at his age.

The time for him to move into Houston Street came too soon for both of them. The day before he left, he bought her flowers with his own money at the grocery store. Ginny helped him move with a heavy heart, but she knew it was the right thing for him. Still, for the first time, she was sad to leave New York for an assignment. Until then she had always been happy to go.

Blue was very quiet on the ride downtown in the cab. She had gotten him a few things, some T-shirts and new jeans, as well as his school supplies, and a bag to carry them in. And he looked bereft as he walked up the steps. And she stunned him totally when she left him in his dorm room. She gave him a laptop as a gift, and his eyes nearly fell out of his head when he saw it.

“You'd better write to me and stay in touch,” she said seriously. “I want to know that you're okay.” He nodded, speechless for a moment, and threw his arms around her neck and hugged her, and she could see that there were tears in his eyes. No one had ever done anything like that for him, but she had wanted to. It was an important tool for him. And she had no one to spoil anymore. She promised to visit him that weekend before she left, and they were going to go out for dinner together.