The stain across the top of his white sneaker glared up at him with every step closer to the front door. He hadn't meant to get his new shoes dirty, but he was at recess and one of the older boys pushed him. When he stood up, he saw it. A dark stain blooming right across the toe. The Coopers had never beat his ass before, not once in the six months he'd been there, but he had tried extra hard to be perfect this time. He put his hand on the knob of the front door, paused, took a deep breath, and entered.
The vacuum. Ana.
He pulled his arms out of the straps of his backpack and laid it on the hall carpet, so it didn’t make a sound. He pulled one shoe off, then the other, and tiptoed through the kitchen, into the laundry room. That first night he had come to the house, Mr. Cooper had shown him around. He couldn’t believe people could be so rich they’d have a room just for the washing machine. Every place he ever lived before, you had to take the laundry down the street to the laundromat.
Ana used orange cloths to scrub with, and he found them under the sink. There was a tub of pink paste, so he grabbed that too. He worked at the mark. He was concentrating real hard. Brows knit together, tongue stuck out to one side. The silence when the vacuum stopped never even registered.
“Buenas tardes, Isaiah.”
Isaiah gasped and dropped the shoe into the sink. His heart rattled around in his chest.
Ana laughed. “What are you doing?”
He bit the inside of his cheek. He’d learned early on that if you bit hard enough, not hard enough to bleed but hard enough to hurt, you wouldn’t cry. It worked most of the time.
“I was tryin’ to clean my shoe. I got knocked down at school.” His shoulders slumped forward. “Mrs. Cooper just bought me these. She’s gonna be so mad.”
Ana shook her head. “Ah, loquillo, you have nothing to worry about. I can fix it.”
“Really?” It seemed too good to be true, and he knew all too well that if it seemed too good it usually wasn’t gonna end well. “You think you can fix it?”
“Of course. It’s just mud. Go! Play. Or do homework. You want a snack?” she asked.
He nodded his head yes.
“Okay. Go wash your hands and sit in the kitchen. I’ll bring you a snack. Then I’ll clean this up,” she said.
“And Mrs. Cooper? Do we have to tell her?” His voice was tentative—barely above a whisper.
“No, of course not. There is nothing to tell. Now go! Wash up.” Ana made a sweeping motion with the back of her hands toward him.
Isaiah washed up and Ana brought him a sandwich with ham and cheese and some cheese curls. They weren’t the bright orange ones he was used to. These were white. White as the Coopers. That made him laugh to himself. They were tasty, though.
After he ate, he put his dishes in the sink just like they’d taught him to. He started toward his room but stopped at the pantry. Looked over his shoulder. He pulled the door open and found another bag of the cheese curls, a granola bar, and slid two Twizzlers out of the package. He closed the door so quiet, you could barely hear it click shut.
In his room, he pushed the door shut with his foot and dropped the handfuls of food on the desk. He pulled back the comforter and pulled the shoebox from under the bed. The package of cheese curls went next to some chips that were left from when they ordered sandwiches the week before. The granola bar was the second one he had put in the box. One of the Twizzlers went in beside an oatmeal cookie that wasn’t in a wrapper or anything. Oatmeal wasn’t his favorite, but if he was hungry enough and he needed to, he’d eat it anyway.
The Coopers had been feeding him every day. Three times, at least. Four if you counted his afternoon snack and the money they sent to his school lunch account. They were nice like that. Making sure he had food. Clothes that fit—even things nobody else had ever worn before, bought just for him. He had his own bed, and his own room.
He had never had his own room before. At his grandmom’s house, when he was little, he could remember sleeping in the bed with her. He was practically a baby then, though. Maybe three. She had died when he was only four, and his moms showed up and took him with her. She had an apartment, but it was just the one room with a bed and a kitchen sink and the couch all right there together. That apartment was too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. He could remember loud music upstairs and it sounded like banging on the walls all the time up there at night. But he was with his moms, and she was working and he was pretty happy.
They stayed there until the week before his eighth birthday. He wanted a Nintendo. Moms said she would get him one. “Whatever you want, baby.” She kissed him on top of the head. That was on a Tuesday. Then a couple of days later, Ms. Sonja came to pick him up from school and said his moms had gotten sick and she went to Heaven. Told him she was his case worker, and she was there to help. Put him in the back of her blue Cadillac and took him right to the group home. She might’ve thought she was going to help him, but every time he saw Ms. Sonja, something bad happened.
Ana brought the sneakers into Isaiah’s room a little while later. They looked brand new. “See?” she said. “I told you.” She smiled at Isaiah and he smiled back.
Later that night, after dinner, Mrs. Cooper knocked on his door. Asked to come in. He always thought it was funny she did that. It was her house. She didn’t need permission from him.
She was carrying a white plastic box with a blue handle.
“Isaiah, I want to start by saying, you’re not in trouble, and you haven’t done anything wrong.” Both her hands were on the handle of that white box, and she was smiling.
His heart was rattling around in his chest again. The shoes? he wondered. Something else? But he’d been so careful.
She came closer and kneeled down in front of him. She put the plastic box on the floor. “Isaiah, honey, I know you’ve got food under your bed.”
His eyes went wide. She patted his knee gently. “No, it’s okay, like I said you’re not in trouble. Can you say that with me?”
She’d been doing this thing where she asked him to repeat after her, and he did. He felt kinda dumb but it also made him less nervous. He repeated with her, “I’m not in trouble.”
“Okay, good! Now, it’s fine if you want to keep some food in your room, but a shoebox under the bed is not healthy or safe. I thought you’d like something better, so I brought you a cooler. You can put anything you like in there.”
She scooted the box forward. He looked down at it. Reached down, lifted the top. He looked inside. It was empty.
“Isaiah, I know you lived in some places before, that—” She paused, clearing her throat. He'd seen this look on her face before, right before she’d cried. This time she didn’t cry, but she didn’t exactly not cry either.
“I know you have been in homes where food was not stable. Not something you could depend on always having enough of. You’ll never have to worry about that here. You can go get food from the refrigerator or pantry anytime, or have me, or Edward, or Ana make you something whenever you’re hungry, okay?”
He nodded.
“Do you want to put the food in the cooler now, and I’ll throw the box away?”
He nodded again.
He walked over to the bed and pulled out the shoebox and moved things over piece by piece. When he got to the oatmeal cookie, he saw Mrs. Cooper’s fingertips go to her mouth.
“Okay, honey, can I just…can I have this one, please?” She reached gingerly for it. “This is probably stale. If you want some cookies, we’ll put some in a zipper bag.”
After he finished, he slid the cooler under the bed. Looked over his shoulder at Mrs. Cooper. She had that weird expression on her face again. Same one she’d had that first day he came there. Smiling but not smiling at the same time. She nodded once.
“Do you want to come watch some TV with us?” she asked.
Isaiah nodded.
Every day, Isaiah tried to be good. Tried to be perfect. Yes ma’am, and no, sir. Putting his dishes into the sink, and dirty clothes into the hamper. He brushed his teeth and washed behind his ears. He studied every night after school. English was his favorite, but he liked history, too.
It was getting warm, and school would be out soon. One weekend, the Coopers took him to a baseball game. They stopped at the souvenir shop in the front of the stadium as they walked in, and Mr. Cooper got Isaiah a hat just like his. It was sharp. He looked at himself in one of the mirrored columns in the store while Mr. Cooper paid for it and smiled.
Damn, bro, looking good.
He saw Mrs. Cooper in the mirror over his shoulder, smiling at him, and tapping Mr. Cooper on the shoulder.
Mr. Cooper asked him if he knew much about baseball. He told him what he knew, and Mr. Cooper explained the plays for him during the game. He picked it up quick. Isaiah was like that. Most things came to him pretty easy.
Mrs. Cooper sat on the other side of him. She pressed her fingertips to his shoulder as she stood up. “I’m going to go get us some snacks. Is there anything special you’d like?”
Isaiah looked around. He saw people eating hot dogs and nachos; one kid had ice cream in a helmet. He wanted everything. But they had bought him the hat already, and he was trying to be good. “No ma’am, I’m okay, thank you.”
She asked if he was sure and he said yes. Mrs. Cooper looked at Mr. Cooper. He nodded. When she came back a little while later, she had, well, everything. Three hot dogs, drinks, ice cream in a helmet, and three boxes of Cracker Jacks. The name made Isaiah laugh. Grandmom used to call the old man who lived upstairs from her a stupid cracker all the time. He wondered if the popcorn had anything to do with that word.
Mrs. Cooper handed out the food. The ice cream was for Isaiah. He just looked at her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Eat the ice cream first before it melts if you want to. I know you said you didn’t want anything and that’s fine too, but it all smelled so good, and I thought you might get hungry later.”
“Thank you,” was all he could manage to say. He ate everything except the Cracker Jacks which Mr. Cooper said he liked to save for after something he called the stretch, so Isaiah thought he’d save his for then, too.
Isaiah decided he really liked baseball. One of the players was from Ecuador, just like Ana, and he stole a base. Isaiah liked that. They all cheered and Mr. Cooper clapped him on the back when the team won.
Mr. Cooper asked him if he’d had a good time. “Yeah, that slide in the last inning was so cool. I can’t wait to come to another game.” He said it before he could stop himself. He saw Mr. Cooper glance over at Mrs. Cooper. He didn’t say anything but put his hand on Isaiah’s shoulder.
Damn, I shoulda kept my mouth shut. I don’t want them thinking I’m always asking for stuff.
It was two weeks after the ball game. Isaiah had gotten his grades and was excited to tell Mrs. Cooper he’d finished with all A’s this year. She was always asking him about school and if his classes were challenging enough. He liked that she seemed to think he was smart.
He turned the corner to the Coopers’ street and froze. There was a car in front of the house. A blue Cadillac. His shoulders fell.
Damn! I tried so hard this time. I really did.
Isaiah opened the front door slowly. Took off his shoes. Put his backpack on the bench. He took a deep breath and walked into the living room.
Mr. and Mrs. Cooper were both there. Usually Mr. Cooper was at work, but sometimes he worked at home. Ms. Sonja sat on the big chair. “There he is,” she said, standing when he walked in. “Hello, Isaiah. How are you?”
“Fine, ma’am,” he replied. His chin was practically touching his chest. He had been told a million times not to mumble, but he couldn’t help it. His cheek hurt. He could taste the metallic tinge of blood. It made his stomach feel sick.
He was not going to cry. He knew all along it wouldn’t last anyway. The Coopers were too nice. Nobody’s that nice.
“I’ll go get my things together. I can change into my old clothes.” He looked at Mrs. Cooper. “Ma’am, can I please go get a trash bag to put my stuff in?”
Mrs. Cooper’s eyes started to tear up. She did that thing again where she put her hand over her mouth and stood up. “No! Isaiah, honey, no. Come here.” She brought him to the sofa and sat him down between her and Mr. Cooper.
Mr. Cooper put an arm around him. “Isaiah, we’re not asking you to leave. We don’t want you to leave, ever.”
The grown-ups looked at each other.
Now Mrs. Cooper was putting an arm around Isaiah. “We asked Sonja to be here today because we wanted to ask you something important.”
She was a mess. Crying, now. Really crying.
“We wanted to ask, Isaiah, if you’d like to become a permanent part of our family,” Mr. Cooper said. “We want to adopt you. What do you think?”
Isaiah was quiet. His throat burned. He could feel the prickling at the back of his eyes and wiped the back of his hand across his face on one side, then the other.
“For real? You want me to stay?” he asked.
This made the Coopers laugh for some reason he didn’t understand. Grown-ups were weird, though, and white folks were extra weird sometimes. Mrs. Cooper tightened her arm around his shoulders.
“For real,” Mr. Cooper said.
Isaiah didn’t answer. Not with words. He shook his head up and down, but he couldn’t say anything. He wasn’t a baby anymore. He didn’t want to cry.
He did anyway.
Mrs. Cooper pulled him close and he felt bad about getting her shoulder all wet, but he couldn’t help it. He thought she was getting his shoulder wet, too. Happy tears. He’d read that in a book one time. He didn’t understand it then. He understood it now.
He didn’t look up. He kept his face buried in Mrs. Cooper’s shoulder.
“I have a question,” he finally managed without moving. “Can I please call you Mom?”
She didn’t answer. She just sobbed harder. He felt Mr. Cooper’s arms wrap around them both.
“You can call us Mom and Dad or whatever feels right, Isaiah,” he said. “But I’m going to call you son, whether you like it or not.”
They talked to Ms. Sonja for a little bit after. She said they’d have to go to the family court to talk to a judge and sign some papers. Said she didn’t think there would be any problems.
That night they went out to dinner as a family. That’s what Mr. Cooper had said. “A family dinner.” At the dinner table, he slid an envelope across the table to Isaiah. “A little present, for all of us.” It was three season tickets. He could go to as many baseball games as he wanted.
Isaiah nodded. “Awesome! I bet Rodriguez steals a bunch more bases this year!”
Mr. Cooper laughed. “Maybe so. He’s pretty bold.”
Isaiah got up. Walked around the table. Put his arms around his dad’s neck. He felt that crackly lump in his throat but said it anyway. “Thanks, Dad.”
At dinner, Isaiah had taken some mints from the hostess stand on the way out of the restaurant. He liked places that gave you free candy after your food, like a bonus. In his room, he took the mints out of his pocket and laid them on the desk. He reached under his bed and pulled out the cooler. Opened it. Looked inside. Then he closed it again. He carried it into the kitchen.
He put the cookies, three bags of chips, and a box of Cracker Jacks into the pantry on the shelf with the other snacks. There was one Twizzler left, and it was so old it was hard as a rock. That went into the trash.
Grabbing a paper towel, he wiped the inside where it was a little sticky, opened the door and went into the garage. He pulled over the little step stool that his mom used to get things off the high shelves and put the cooler on the top shelf where there was a space.
Isaiah thought he heard someone at the back kitchen door, but when he looked up, nobody was there.
In the living room, his parents were on the sofa. His dad had his arm around his mom. He could see her eyes were all damp like she’d been crying. She cried more than most people he knew. His dad had told him once it’s because she feels a lot. Isaiah thought he was starting to understand what he’d meant.
“Come on,” his dad said, moving to make space between them. He patted the sofa cushion. “What do you want to watch tonight?”
He squeezed into the space between his parents.