I call you back in a minute, Colleen?” said Louise. “I won’t be long.”
Louise spotlit me for five seconds without leaking a word. Her eyes were desperate. “So, are you really okay staying with a black family? It’s either that or the secure unit. I’d rather you stay with a foster family—”
“I’m not going back to the secure unit!” I squeezed my meerkat close to my stomach. “Can’t stand the staff there. Hate ’em.”
“Do you really hate them, Naomi? You were a bit tearful when you left.”
“That’s cos I was leaving Kim and Nats. They’re my best friends.”
“Hmmm.” Louise was never sweet on Kim and Nats. “So what do you think about staying with a black family? It wouldn’t be for long.”
“They got kids?” I asked.
“Yes, they have.”
“How old?”
“Sharyna’s ten and Pablo’s six. They were adopted. They used to be in the care system.”
“You were their social worker?”
“Yes. Please give me an answer, Naomi. I haven’t got all night.”
“Wanna wheel home before your boyfriend gets pissed on waiting for ya and hits on someone else?”
“Naomi!”
I thought about it. A black family. They’ll definitely be cooler than the Holmans. They might let me blaze a rocket. The mum might be able to put plaits in my hair like Solange Knowles. They could get my dancing on point. Might learn some top-ranking insults like those black chicks at my last school.
I smiled. “Yeah. I’m good to play this game.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want you accusing me of not listening to your opinion before a placement again.”
She was right on that one.
“I suppose so,” I said. “Unless you wanna give me my own place. I’ll be good on my lonesome. Dunno why you’re always munching your knickers about it when I bring it up. When I’m fifteen I’ll meet a sweet bruv and we can make a life—”
Louise had her really face back on.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Naomi?” she said. “You’re a minor. The local council are responsible for you until you reach eighteen.”
“They didn’t call me a minor when I looked after my dad!”
Shaking her head, Louise stepped away. She jabbed the redial button on her phone. “Hello, it’s Louise again.”
It was still on speaker.
“Hi again, Louise.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate, Colleen, but I have two emergency foster carers on holiday and another who’s about to give birth. It’s not a problem that my case is Caucasian, is it? Her name’s Naomi. Naomi Brisset.”
“Naomi,” repeated Colleen. “Nice name.”
I curled a grin. Of course it’s a nice name. My mum gave me it.
“Tell her I was named after Naomi Watts,” I said. “She was in King Kong and a horror movie.”
Louise ignored me. “Will Tony be all right with, er, you know?” she asked.
“Course,” Colleen replied. “Won’t bother him at all. He’ll be cool.”
“You sure?” Louise pressed again. “It’s just that Tony has always made a point about wanting to foster black children.”
“He wants to help all kids,” Colleen insisted.
“Okay, Colleen.” Louise breathed out relief. “We’ll be around in half an hour or so.”
“Hold on, hold on,” Colleen said. “Any dietary requirements I should know about? Remember last year? You sent us that kid who wouldn’t eat rice, potatoes, meat, or anything with seasoning in it.”
“Naomi’s not fussy about her food. I have her file with me.”
“I don’t like mince,” I called out. “Reminds me of worms. No shepherd’s pie either. Oh, and I don’t like macaroni cheese. That reminds me of yellow worms.”
Louise offered me a seal your gums glare.
“Looking forward to meeting her,” said Colleen after a pause.
We returned to McD’s. Louise sipped on her coffee and sank into her seat. “Seems like Colleen’s looking forward to meeting you,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t she?” I grinned. “I’m lovable.”
I hugged my meerkat tight.
chapter two
A New Hope
We burned rubber along the Ashburton circular. I stared out the car window looking at road signs. Monk’s Orchard, Spenge-on-Leaf, Crongton, Notre Dame, Cranerley, Smeckenham. We turned off at the Shrublands exit. I thought about my dad. I wondered what he’d think about me staying with a black family. He wouldn’t care. After all, he sank liquor with anyone. Once, I had to drag his alcoholic ass out of Lord Jazzbo’s, a cocktail bar that had a samba night on a Thursday, a disco night on a Friday, and a reggae night on a Saturday. They had this speciality drink called Rumwave. Dad loved it. I sampled it once too. It gave me a double-bitch of a hangover the next morning. That was the last liquor I ever had.
We reached Shrublands.
Flowers niced up the roundabouts. Four-by-fours sweetened up the wide roads. Cats slept on fence posts. Hedges were trimmed neatly.
“Black people live here?” I asked.
“Yes, they do,” Louise replied. “The Goldings are a nice family. They’ve done well for themselves.”
“They didn’t make their Gs from selling dragon hip pills, did they?”
“No! They certainly didn’t. And don’t even go there with that one, Naomi.”
“All right,” I said. “Just jokes.”
“I hope it’s just jokes, Naomi.”
Louise’s eyebrows had hardened. I could tell she was getting proper frustrated at the whole deal.
“It won’t be too long you’ll be staying here so just bear with me,” she said. “I can’t have you there for too long anyway. The council machine will have me flying through hoops and asking me to fill in a million forms for that to happen.”
“Who’s
