How to Get Dirt (2 page)
Authors: S. E. Campbell
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The restaurant was called Yuki
'
s Diner and Grill
. When
Pickles first saw it, she thought it was a Chinese restaurant.
As they drew nearer, though, she spotte
d t
he menu
in a glass case
on the wall and saw it was actually a sandwich restaurant.
As she examined the menu, Mrs. Beazley pointed inside
.
“
Look, Pickles, there are your new foster parents.
”
Pickles went rigid
with
nervousness.
What if they d
on
'
t
like me? What if I don
'
t like them?
She had had some horrible foster parents over the years. One woman had not allowed her to eat for two days and had forced her to sleep on the floor. Another had sixteen kids, including other foster kids
.
Pickles
had felt as if she was invisible. A part of her didn
'
t even want to look
inside
. She liked the idea of
pretending the
perfect
parents
in th
e
photo w
ere
just that
â
perfect.
But she knew she had to be brave.
She stepped forward and peered through the window
,
spott
ing
the couple at once.
Miranda was more beautiful in person than she had been in the photograph, but now instead of having long hair, she
had
a bob
which
was similar to
Pickles
'
own. Today she had on
bright
makeup
that matched her
purple, fluttery dress.
The napkin she held was crumpled and torn. She plucked at the edge, ripping tiny pieces off.
At her side
,
David
sat with
his arms crossed in front of him, tapp
ing
his foot repeatedly on the
floor
.
His jaw
appeared
tense.
“
They look scared,
”
Pickles said.
Mrs. Beazley grabbed her hand
, squeezing it
.
“
So do you. But that
'
s a good sign. That means they care what you think of them, right?
”
“
Yeah.
”
Pickle
s nodded
, beaming
.
“
My la
st family didn
'
t care at all. I don
'
t think they even knew what my name was.
”
“
I
'
m sorry about t
hat, Pickles. It was their loss. You are
a marvelous young lady.
”
Before Pickles could say anything more, Mrs. Beazley began to tug her along toward the door. Mrs. Beazley opened the
entrance.
As soon as she pulled the heavy glass door open,
Pickles
'
stomach grumble
d
at the smell of
cooking onions and garlic.
She ignored her hunger and started over the median
that stood
between her
and her new family
. Miranda
peered
at her
,
waved
,
and
then
gave
her
a luminous smile. Pickles waved back
eagerly, her heart thundering in her ears.
Miranda
turned to
prod her husband
'
s arm
,
and he gave her a stern nod.
His elbow slid along the table and bumped into his drink. The clear liquid sloshed as the glass wobbled. Then it toppled over, splashing water and ice cubes over the top of the table.
Pickles giggled.
“
See?
”
Mrs. Beazley smiled down at her.
“
They don
'
t seem so bad, do they?
”
“
I like them already,
”
Pickles said.
“
They
'
re clumsy like me.
”
Mrs. Beazley laughed.
The two of them walked over to the table
.
Pickles
extended her hand
to Miranda
. Instead of
a handshake
,
though,
Miranda stood up
to hug
Pickles. Miranda smelled different than Mrs. Beazley but still nice, like sweet
-
smelling fruity lotion.
Pickles
squeezed Miranda
'
s sides before
she let go and grinned
. David also stood, walked over, and gave her an awkward hug.
The fresh scent of his aftershave made Pickles think of sunny days on the beach.
Mrs. Beazley sat down at the table
. A moment later,
Pickles
plopped down
next to her
and surveyed their little group
.
Her breath caught.
Miranda was shaking
!
“
It
'
s okay, Mrs. Harris,
”
Pickles said, smiling at her.
“
I
'
m
a nice
kid. I don
'
t fight or anything like that. You don
'
t need to look so scared.
”
Miranda
'
s mouth fell open
. After a brief moment of silence, she
threw her head back
and
laugh
ed
. She and David exchanged glances.
“
I
'
m sorry,
”
Miranda said.
“
David and I just have never had a foster care child staying with us before. We didn
'
t know what to expect. Maybe you can help us understand, okay? Mrs. Beazley said you
'
ve gone to a lot of homes
and
that
you
'
re helpful
and sweet.
”
Beaming at Mrs. Beazley, Pickles nodded.
“
It isn
'
t
too hard,
”
Pickles said
.
“
If
you let me stay with you guys for a while, I promise I
'
ll be good. I
'
ll do all the dishes
,
vacuum
ing
,
cook
ing
, and
â
”
“
Whoa, whoa, whoa,
”
David said, looking at Mrs. Beazley in alarm.
“
I didn
'
t know we were hiring a maid.
”
Mrs. Beazley
'
s expression
grew
fixed.
“
I
'
m sorry. Like I said, she
'
s been to
a lot of homes. Some people didn
'
t treat her the right way
. Never had a complaint about her
, though
. Not one.
She is an exemplary girl.
”
“
I can see why,
”
Miranda said kindly, looking at Pickles.
“
I like you already, but you won
'
t have to take care of us. It
'
ll be our job to take care of you,
okay
?
”
It was just like in the book
s
Pickles had read in school. She couldn
'
t believe it. Already, David and Miranda were acting like real parents, the kind she had always dreamed of having. She beamed at them
as she nodded
. It was so easy to picture the three of them, sitting at a dinner table eating
while enjoying a good conversation
.
Pickles squirmed
with
excitement.
She already couldn
'
t wait to get home.
“
Are you alright?
”
Mrs. Beazley asked.
“
Do you have to go to the bathroom?
”
“
I
'
m just so happy,
”
Pickles said.
“
I
'
ve met
many
foster parents, but none
have
been as nice as you.
”
Miranda and David exchanged looks
.
Miranda nodded.
“
I
'
ve never met anybody as nice as you, either,
”
Miranda said.
“
I can
'
t wait to have you in our home.
”
This is it. It has to be. The home I have waited so long to have.
She was so happy she could hardly read the menu.
****
“
I
'
m going to miss you so, so much,
”
Prudence said, hugging Pickles.
“
Promise
me you
'
ll
visit, okay? You are so lucky. It sounds like Mrs. Beazley found you a home with people
who
aren
'
t going to ignore you or beat you.
”
Prudence had also had bad luck in foster care. Still, if
it
had happened
to her, then maybe it could happen to Prudence too.
Holding her friend close, Pickles felt
hot drops of tears on her shoulder. Poor Prudence.
“
Will you be okay?
”
Pickles asked,
stepping back and
touching her teary face.
“
Yes.
”
Prudence wiped at her eyes.
“
It
'
s just I hate this place so much
.
I am going to miss having you around. Will you write me stories and send them to me?
”
“
Of
course.
”
Pickles held her book bag
close.
“
You
know you
'
re
the only one who listens to the
stories I
make up.
”
“
Maybe your new foster parents will like them too.
”
Pickles tried hard not to smile at the thought because Prudence was so upset. She nodded, grabbed her black suitcase, and then hugged
her best friend
one last time.
Someone knocked
on the door. A second later
Mrs. Beazley came inside with her car keys in hand. When
she
saw Prudence
was crying, she walked over
to hug
her too.
“
When I get back, we
'
ll have a long chat, okay?
”
the older woman
said, patting Prudence
'
s head.
“
Maybe I
'
ll take you out to dinner sometime.
”
“
But you aren
'
t my social worker.
”
Prudence frowned.
“
You don
'
t have to do that.
”
“
I can be your friend.
”
Mrs. Beazley jostled Prudence
'
s hair in the same
way she
did
with
Pickles
.
Still scowling,
Prudence clutched her head.
Mrs. Beazley
gazed
at Pickles.
“
You ready to go, Pickles?
”
“
Of course,
”
Pickles said.
“
I
'
ve never been more excited for anything in my entire life, not even shopping day. I feel like I
'
m going to pee my pants.
”
“
I would
n
'
t
recommend that.
”
Mrs. Beazley winked.
After one last hug, Pickles took Mrs. Beazley
'
s hand and walked with her outside, into the hallway. They went down the hall
,
took a right
,
and
then
went outside after talking to the nice security lady. Pickles was l
ed to Mrs. Beazley
'
s purple van
and was once again reminded of a giant driving grape as she clambered inside.
Mrs. Beazley
walked to the driver
'
s side door
,
got inside,
and then drove down the road. She didn
'
t speak for a long time,
so
Pickles watched the clock
as her excitement and fear grew
.
Seattle is a long way from here. I won
'
t get to visit with Mrs. Beazley as much.
“
I
'
m going to miss you,
”
Pickles said.
“
I was just thinking of that.
”
Mrs. Beazley reached over and squeezed
Pickles
'
hand.
“
I see you as a daughter as much as I do a case. I want you to know that. But I know it
'
s for the
best you
go to Seattle. Plus, it
'
ll only be an hour away. I can still visit you sometimes, just not once a week like I usually do.
”
“
Thank you, Mrs. Beazley.
”
Silence fell in the car, except for the distant twang of country music
quietly playing on the radio
.
The trees along the side of the road
lined
up like wooden soldiers, their own personal honor guard. Green leaves fluttered as the
grape van
blew past them.
“
Mrs. Beazley, do you
think this
family is going to be the right one?
”
Pickles asked.
“
Heaven help me, I do,
”
Mrs. Beazley said.
“
But don
'
t tell anyone I said that. When I found them, I thought of adoption, not just foster care.
”
When
Mrs. Beazley winked at her, Pickles felt her stomach warm.