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Today was the two-year anniversary of when it happened.
Melvin poked at his breakfast, tuning out the chatter of his foster family around him. No one paid any attention to him as they ate and laughed and got ready for the day. Not that they were purposefully ignoring him; he was just always so quiet, they knew they weren’t very likely to get a conversation out of him in the morning.
Melvin didn’t want to go to school today. Which was really saying something- he loved being in school. But his foster mom didn’t see any good reason to keep him home she doesn’t know it happened today, so he was off to school, only a little bit slower than he usually was.
The day passed faster than normal. Melvin was hardly aware he was in class. His mind was too occupied with thoughts of them and the house and when his life had been normal, when he had been a normal kid. Eventually, even the teacher had to notice something was wrong with him, and she sent him down to the office with a note and an instruction to not come back until he was feeling better again.
They didn’t have a nurse, let alone a school therapist. Melvin shuffled down to the office, the note clutched loosely in his hand and the chatter of the classrooms buzzing in his ears. He had been normal two years ago.
Principal Krupp seemed confused to see him. After all, it wasn’t one of the days Melvin would come down to the office during lunch to reorganize everything he could. Mr. Krupp wasn’t exactly the most organized, and it soothed Melvin immensely to shuffle all the papers around and put them in their proper places. He mumbled something about the teacher sending him down, how he hadn’t been paying attention, it was completely his fault, he just couldn’t focus today-
“Is everything ok, Melvin?”
It flashed across the front of his mind, sitting in the babysitter’s living room and waiting for his mom to pick him up like she always did. His mom never showed up. Or his dad. Just some police officer coming to get him and bring him to the station, and he vaguely remembered driving past his home and it was gone, it was burnt down or exploded and everything was everywhere and nothing was where it should have been-
“I’m fine, thank you,” he answered quietly, crawling up onto the chair in front of Mr. Krupp’s desk. He focused on his feet in front of him. He was supposed to be quiet in Mr. Krupp’s office, because he was working and didn’t like it when kids just talked about nothing. (Although Melvin didn’t either, he didn’t talk about nothing, even when he did talk-)
There was a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure?”
Melvin’s eyes watered. He should be fine, he was six, he shouldn’t have been upset about this because it shouldn’t have happened, he should be normal.
“I’m s-sorry, it’s… my parents… died, two years ago today.” Melvin tried hard not to cry. “I-I can go back to class, though, I-I promise.”
“...No. No no, hey, kid-”
Melvin couldn’t remember the last time he received real physical affection, and here he was in Mr. Krupp’s arms, his hand gently rubbing up and down his back. Melvin found himself gripping Mr. Krupp’s shirt, shaking as tears ran down his face.
“You can stay here as long as you need to, ok?”
After that day, Melvin found himself stopping at Krupp’s office more and more often. Of course, he still went twice a month to organize everything, and now when he did there was always a snack for him, even if Krupp never said anything about it. But now Melvin would often bring his lunch to the office, the two of them eating in silence. It wasn’t very different from how Melvin usually ate, but it felt so much better.
Melvin would also excuse himself to the office whenever he just needed to talk. Usually about not being able to make friends with any of the other kids, because Krupp got it. He got it, and Melvin had never met anyone else who understood how hard it was to talk to people his own age.
And Melvin ended up staying late after school and reading in Krupp’s office while he worked, to the point that Melvin almost spent more time there than in his foster home. The worst part of the day was when he had to go home. It wasn’t a bad place; indeed, his foster family always tried to connect with him and make him feel like “part of the family,” but they tried too hard. They didn’t get it.
The office was home more than that place was; Krupp was more family than they were.
The other kids were all confused about why he would want to spend so much time with Krupp. He was a monster to everyone else. At some point George and Harold- Melvin hated them most of all; they were interruptive and silly and creative. Krupp always said creativity was useless- they made one of their stupid little comic books about him, and how he could have possibly gotten Krupp to like him so much. Something about hypnotism.
It wasn’t true at all, and it made Melvin angry. So the only way anyone could possibly like him was against their own will? It was like they couldn’t fathom the idea that Melvin ever had anyone who actually loved him it was true though, wasn’t it? He didn’t really have anyone who loved him; the only people who ever did were-
He took it to Krupp, and he quickly tore it up and hunted the boys down, Melvin following obediently at his heels. When Krupp did find them he loudly, for everyone to hear, banned all comic-making activity for the boys. Melvin smirked at them from behind his legs, and he realized halfway through that Krupp was making all this fuss for him.
Sure, George and Harold might have cemented him in their minds as their enemy that day, but Melvin had someone fighting for him, so he didn’t care. He happily embraced their “tattletale” title.
“Mr. Krupp, do you love me?”
The question was fairly random, if you were anyone who wasn’t Melvin. He had been wondering for a while now, and finally, it had come out one day during lunch. Krupp looked surprised, like he always did when Melvin spoke during lunch. It wasn’t a very common occurrence.
It was silent for a moment, and Melvin became scared that he had broken some unspoken rule like he always managed to do.
“...yeah. Yeah, of course I do, kid.”
It felt sincere. Melvin smiled, satisfied, and went back to his lunch. George and Harold’s comic was wrong.
Melvin was seven.
He watched as the clock ticked over to midnight. He quietly murmured happy birthday to himself. It was likely the only one he would get that day. Everyone was always so preoccupied with Christmas that they often completely forgot it was even his birthday. His mom had once said that he was the best Christmas present she’d ever received. They never forgot his birthday, even if he never had a real party.
He wished he could spend his birthday with Krupp in his office. But school was let out for the winter holidays (“Only for Christmas,” Krupp had mumbled. “If Hanukkah is during winter break it’s a coincidence.”) so Melvin was home and left to celebrate by himself. Although Krupp had left something on his desk in the classroom on the last day before break, a wrapped box that held a small plush turtle when he opened it. The tag only said “Happy Birthday.”
Melvin hugged the turtle close to his chest as he watched the clock.
“Do you wanna live with me?”
“...I already have a foster family.” Melvin looked down at his lunch glumly, poking at it with his fork. There wasn’t a point to changing foster families, the one he had was working well enough.
“Not fostering.” Krupp fidgeted awkwardly, and Melvin’s eyes widened a little. “Adoption.”
Melvin’s mouth fell into a small o. He didn’t think Krupp would actually want to…
“It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday. But, uh, I-I didn’t get approved until break.”
Melvin’s chest tightened. He was going to get a home that felt like home. A permanent home- adopted! He was going to have a family again-
“Yes.” He had forgotten to answer.
Today was the three-year anniversary of when it happened.
Krupp- Dad had let him stay home from school today. Melvin didn’t even have to ask, he had walked into the kitchen with the turtle tucked under his arm and a harsh twisting in his gut, and he had told him to go back up to bed. Only if he wanted to, but they were staying home today.
Melvin didn’t want to be alone, but he was pretty tired still, so he ended up curling up at the end of the couch in the living room, am arm wrapped snuggly around his turtle and his body tucked securely under his blanket, which he had dragged out from his room.
Dad ended up sitting at the other end of the couch after a while, and he turned the TV on to some ocean documentary that was on TV. Melvin poked his head out of the blanket, watching the screen. He slowly sat up, pulling the blanket over his head and wrapping it around himself. He made sure the turtle could watch too, its head poking out of the blanket below his chin.
He scooted down the couch, leaning against Dad’s side, focusing on the documentary. He felt his arm around him and closed his eyes for a minute, appreciating the comfort.
The next day, when they went back to school, Melvin snuck up to the announcement board in the hallway. He glanced around, pulled out a paper that said “Krupp Appreciation Day, May 1st”, and stuck it to the board with a spare pushpin.