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Wilbur groaned, burying his face in his pillow, listening to Tommy whine from downstairs. Only nine in the morning, and the little brat was already causing problems—problems loud enough for Wilbur to hear all the way up in his bedroom.
Was he glad the system no longer had custody? That Phil, Wilbur’s new dad, fostered the little terror in preparation to adopt him? Sure—mostly. Wilbur had been in foster care himself before Phil and Kristin adopted him—he understood how bad the system could get. Phil had been his ticket out and Wilbur couldn’t be happier.
But why did Phil have to go and foster another kid?
Wilbur had just gotten settled. Wilbur had gotten his own room, his own parents, and his own life. Tommy mussed it all up, taking Phil and Kristin’s time and attention that Wilbur had finally just gotten used to having all to himself.
It wasn’t fair.
The little brat already called Phil and Kristin “Dad” and “Mom” even though he’d only been here a few months.
Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to do the same, though he’d been here a year now and was a whole seven years old. He just couldn’t—no matter how badly he wanted to. He was scared—scared they wouldn’t accept him the way they accepted Tommy.
“Wilbur!”
Kristin called up the stairs, and Wilbur let himself have another minute of pity before hauling himself out of bed with heavy feet. His bad attitude only increased when he saw Tommy in Wilbur’s chair, laughing with his mouth open and full of food. Scrambled eggs, to be precise.
Wilbur hated eggs, but Tommy like them, so Kristin started making them every other few days so Tommy could have something he liked. It shouldn’t bother Wilbur that Tommy could finally enjoy what he wanted for probably the first time in his life, but it did.
“Morning sweetie,” Kristin pressed a kiss to Wilbur’s messy hair and shooed him to a seat, toast and cereal waiting.
“Wilbur, Wilbur, Wilbur—” Tommy bounced up and down in his seat with every shout of Wilbur’s name, eyes bright and cheeks rosy. A stark contrast from the shivering, pale little boy that showed up a few months ago, clinging to Kristin as if afraid someone would tear him from her arms.
“What?” Wilbur tried not to snap.
“We’re going to the mall!” Tommy exclaimed, way too excited this early in the morning. “Mommy said she’s gonna get me a new jacket!”
Wilbur bit his lip. Tommy was five years old—he shouldn’t be excited over little things like a jacket. He should be wanting puzzles and toys and junk food, not something he should have in the first place.
The back door opened and Phil, Wilbur’s favorite person ever, came in, stomping the snow from his boots.
“It snowed,” he said, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Maybe we’ll build snowmen when we get back.”
Wilbur smiled, though he soured at Tommy’s squeals of delight at the idea. His breakfast sat heavier and heavier in his stomach at the idea of sharing Phil, since Phil was the only one big enough to put the head on what would be the biggest snowman ever, according to Tommy.
“C’mon kiddo,” Phil said, interrupting Wilbur’s internal bitterness, scooping him up from behind and squeezing him in a hug. “Let’s get your coat.”
…
Outside was cold.
Wilbur hated the cold. It made his ears sting and his nose numb. Phil radiated warmth though, and Wilbur snuggled into his hold to try and hide from the nippy air. He liked Phil’s arms. They were big and strong and could probably protect Wilbur from anything.
Tommy seemed to be enjoying himself, chattering away in Kristin’s arms and reaching for the snow falling from the cloudy sky. The biggest grin ever stretched across his face, and he laughed out loud when one of the snowflakes landed on his nose.
Wilbur sighed in relief when Phil set him down in the warm, busy mall, though he mourned the loss of Phil’s hold.
“Stay close, mate.” Phil ruffled his hair. “Keep an eye on Tommy too, okay?”
Wilbur hid his eye roll.
…
Wilbur’s heart pounded, spinning in place. He didn’t know where Phil was, he didn’t know where Kristin went—he didn’t even know where Tommy had gone off to. He stopped for only a second in the store to look at Legos. He hadn’t meant to not pay attention and follow Phil and now he was lost—
“Wilbur!”
Wilbur whirled, stomach lurching at the childish voice.
Tommy.
Tommy barreled into his side, shaking and crying. “I lost Mommy!”
Instinctively, Wilbur wrapped his arms around his litt—Tommy. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Tommy smeared snot on his sleeve, seeming no worse for wear. “I just got lost and now I don’t know where Mommy or Dad are!”
“It’s okay.” Wilbur hefted Tommy up as best he could, the five-year-old hard to wrangle in his giant puffy coat. Wilbur circled in place, trying to figure out where Phil and Kristin would have gone. He was smart, and he was old enough to figure this out. “We can find them. They wouldn’t leave without us.”
“Mommy said she wanted to go look at perfumes at ‘Sora,” Tommy sniffled, sticking his thumb in his mouth, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
Wilbur closed his eyes. He remember Kristin saying that in the car on the way here—but he didn’t want to admit that Tommy could be right.
But—
They were lost, and Wilbur might have been just a little bit scared. He also wouldn’t be able to hold Tommy for very long.
“Okay,” Wilbur said. “Let’s go check the ‘Sora store.”
…
“Stop squirming,” Wilbur complained, hefting Tommy up higher on his hip. “You’re hard enough to carry anyways.”
“Wilbur,” Tommy whined, grabbing on tighter and digging his heel into the back of Wilbur’s ribs. “Someone’s following us.”
Wilbur’s stomach fluttered and he swallowed, turning around.
A big lady wearing a really ugly dress brightened when she saw Wilbur. “Hello sweetie—”
Wilbur didn’t like her. She put him off, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He definitely hated her stupid Christmas hat, and her perfume smelled like old people.
“We’re fine,” he said, interrupting even though Kristin said it impolite to do so. “Thank you though,” he tacked on, to at least try to be polite.
“Oh honey, are you here alone?”
Wilbur screwed up his face. “No. Go away.”
“Honey—”
Wilbur turned on his heel and marched off, arms groaning from Tommy’s dead weight, but he didn’t dare set the little boy down—not with someone who could grab him so close.
“Is she still there?” he whispered to Tommy, keeping his own eyes straight ahead, still looking for the right store.
Tommy nodded, thumb back in his mouth.
“Let me know if she tries to grab us or anything.”
Another nod.
Wilbur ignored the bubbles of fear trying to work up his throat. He needed to keep Tommy safe—what if someone managed to separate them? Wilbur was Phil and Kristin’s kid, yeah, but Tommy hadn’t been adopted yet. They still had a few months to go before Phil could do all the fancy paperwork stuff that would make it official.
And—Wilbur felt a shudder run up his spine. If someone found Tommy outside of Phil or Kristin’s care, left to wander alone around a mall—
Wilbur didn’t know a lot about the foster authority people, but he thought abandoning your child in a busy public center where anything could happen to him could count as negligence. Phil and Kristin would lose their license thingy they needed to renew before they fostered Tommy and then Tommy would have to leave—
Wilbur squeezed Tommy a little tighter.
No.
No one would take Tommy from him. Tommy was Phil’s and Kristin’s, which meant Tommy was Wilbur’s. Phil and Kristin weren’t here right now, so Wilbur needed to step up and take care of things.
“Wilbur, she’s got a man with her,” Tommy whispered, but Wilbur didn’t falter this time.
“We don’t see them,” he said. “They ain’t gonna do something in front of all these people.”
He hoped.
“Wilbur—”
“Okay, kiddo—”
Wilbur jumped back at the hand on his shoulder, nearly dropping Tommy. A man, a big one with a really bushy beard and a Santa hat, smiled down at him. The woman stood over his shoulder, lips pursed.
“Where’s your parents?” the man asked, kneeling so Wilbur could be eye-level with him.
“At ‘Sora,” Wilbur said, eyes darting between the two, trying to think quickly. Tommy had gone still in his arms. Tommy hated men. It took him a solid month before Phil could even be in the same room with Tommy, and Phil hadn’t done nothing wrong. This random stranger that was a lot, lot, bigger than Wilbur—Tommy was probably terrified.
“And why aren’t you with them?”
“Tommy had to go to the bathroom,” Wilbur said.
“And why isn’t a parent with you?”
Wilbur screwed up his face. “I’m seven years old! I don’t their help to go to the bathroom anymore.”
The man chuckled. “Is that a fact?”
“Yes, it is!” Wilbur ignored how his arms were trembling, not just from Tommy’s weight, but from nerves. He really, really wanted Phil right now.
“We’re going now,” Wilbur announced, ducking away.
“Wait, kiddo—”
“Not supposed to talk to strangers!” Wilbur tossed over his shoulder before walking away as quickly as his feet could carry them.
“That was scary,” Tommy said, one fist tight in Wilbur’s collar.
“Yeah,” Wilbur said, trying to read storefront names faster now. Reading was still hard, though he had gotten a lot better with Phil’s help. “But we did it.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Tommy leaned forward, wrapping his short little arms around his neck and resting his head on Wilbur’s shoulder.
“You’re a good big brother,” Tommy said under his breath and Wilbur nearly tripped over his own feet.
A good big brother?
After everything Wilbur thought about Tommy?
Wilbur swallowed, lip wobbling. Tommy didn’t deserve those nasty thoughts. Tommy was a just kid, and Wilbur almost a teenager practically.
You’re a good big brother.
Wilbur decided he would prove Tommy right.
…
Wilbur had never been happier to see zebra stripes. Kristin was just leaving the ‘Sora store, just getting ready to turn the corner and leave them—
“Mommy!” Tommy lurched out of Wilbur’s arms, hitting the floor hard before charging forward, the startled crowd parting at the child’s cry.
Kristin swung around, eyes comically wide in a way that made Wilbur want to giggle.
“Tommy!” She knelt, wrapping Tommy up in a big hug. Her face scrunched up when she saw Wilbur running at her too, just a few paces behind. Her arm opened automatically so Wilbur could dive in where he felt safe. “Wilbur, what are you—”
“Momma!” Wilbur realized he said the name just after it slipped out.
She hadn’t left him. She loved him too, just like she loved Tommy.
“Oh Wilbur, baby—” Kristin scooped him close and stood, one boy awkwardly on each hip. “Where’s Daddy?”
“We lost him!” Tommy exclaimed, still over-dramatic and excited despite his ordeal. “But Wilbur was really brave and carried me and brought me here and made the two nosy people go away!”
Wilbur blushed profusely at the praise, lip wobbling. He buried his face in his mother’s shoulder. “Can we go get Dad?”
Kristin squeezed him tight. “Yeah, we’ll go get Dad. How ‘bout some hot chocolate too?”
Wilbur smiled against her shoulder as Tommy squealed his approval, still going on about how Wilbur was so “c’ragous” and exaggerating every little detail.
Maybe—
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.