THEN
I’d been speechless, that night in the garden, after Jonah had called me out on my fake crush.
I guess if your parents think you’re flirting with Carlos in the dinner queue, it’s better than them wondering what you’re doing out here with me.
‘Wh-what?’ I finally managed to stammer, after what felt like a lifetime of Jonah’s eyes lasering into mine.
‘It’s not allowed, is it?’
‘Me being in the garden with you?’ Feigning confusion was my only defence.
He simply raised one eyebrow, before eventually pushing back his chair and standing up.
‘At least this time you’re wearing a jumper,’ he muttered, before disappearing into the shadow of the house.
The night chill had turned the skin on my legs to ice before I trusted them to stop trembling enough to follow him.
It was excruciating, trying to work out if Jonah reciprocated my feelings or not. The songs, the lingering stares and secretive smiles, the comment about me wearing a jumper all implied he did. But it was so far-fetched that even an optimist like mecouldn’t dare to hope it was true – despite arguing with myself that an optimist would be hoping itwasn’ttrue, as that was far better for everyone.
Then, after walking home from an English exam a few days later, things got even more complicated.
‘Another family conference,’ Nicky announced, skipping down the stairs as I was trudging up them. I made no attempt to hurry as I dumped my bag, changed out of my uniform into denim shorts and a T-shirt and retied my ponytail.
‘Libby, glad you could join us,’ Dad said as I slouched into a seat at the kitchen table.
‘Are we waiting for Bronah?’ Nicky asked, grabbing a home-made cookie from a plate that forewarned my parents meant business.
‘Not this time, no,’ Mum said. ‘He’s out with his social worker and doesn’t know we’re talking about this, so please don’t mention it.’
‘Sounds ominous.’ Nicky waggled her eyebrows at me.
I was in no state to reply. The fear that this could be about me and Jonah sent a surge of panic through my bloodstream. I raced through the possibilities – they’d learned that Carlos left Bigley ages ago, or had figured out the playlist –oh, my goodness, had they read my journal?
‘Not at all. But it is serious, and we didn’t want to get his hopes up,’ Mum answered.
‘You both know that we’ve told social services we’ll happily continue caring for Jonah, moving from short-term fostering to a permanent placement, but he’s not been sure whether this is what he wants,’ Dad said. ‘Well, he’s finally explained why.’
I was going to throw up any second.
‘He doesn’t want to give up hope of living with Ellis and Billy,’ Mum continued.
‘But the chances of there being a family with space to take three kids, including a teenager, are virtually non-existent,’ Nicky said, through a mouthful of cookie.
‘Virtually. But not completely,’ Dad said. ‘Social services are wondering whether they’ve already found one.’
‘Who?’ I couldn’t help blurting.
‘Ta-da.’ Mum waved at us from across the table.
‘You’re going to foster Ellis and Billy, too?’ Nicky asked. ‘I thought they were being put up for adoption.’
‘They are.’
My parents allowed the aftershock of that bombshell to reverberate across the kitchen.
‘You’re going to adopt Ellis and Billy?’ Nicky asked, sounding stunned.
‘We’re thinking about applying to adopt all three of them,’ Dad said, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears.
