Page 24 of The Leaving Kind
Victor paused in the doorway of the community center and turned to smile at Cassidy. He wasn’t supposed to have favorite students or insist that one was more artistic than another. But Cassidy could easily be the most talented kid he’d taught over the past fifteen years. Victor considered himself lucky that she continued to sign up for his summer courses—even though he’d encouraged her to apply for several programs in New York.
“What’s up?” he asked as she stopped beside him, hoping she wasn’t going to critique that day’s lesson. He had promised himself he’d come up with new projects for his summer class, but between work, Tholo, and deep dives to the cellar, he’d been feeling less inspired than usual.
Cassidy bit her lip and frowned. “So, um, you know how Beck wasn’t in class today?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Their, um, parents kicked them out over the July Fourth break.”
Victor felt his eyebrows shoot upward, though the news, sadly, didn’t surprise him. But it had to have been at least a year since an area family had rejected their child’s identity—that he’d heard about, anyway. He’d been running the Hearts & Crafts program at the LGBTQ community center in Milford for nearly twelve years, though. He’d heard all the stories, and it always hurt. It always felt personal.
“Does Beck have somewhere to stay?” he asked.
“They’re staying with Morgan right now, but Morgan is going away to college in the fall and his parents said Beck has to find somewhere else then.”
Oh-kay.
Cassidy bit her lip again. “We, um, tried calling you. I know you sometimes have kids stay with you.”
“From our program and only temporarily.” Victor would love to house all the homeless LGBTQ youth in the world, but he wasn’t officially licensed as a foster parent. Regardless, he’d housed up to four kids before and would have taken in another if Tez hadn’t sat him down and forced him to make a choice. Either complete the training, certify, and become more active with that aspect of the community, or continue as he was—as an advocate who occasionally housed at-risk youth until a better situation came along.
He’d have liked to continue doing both, but he couldn’t teach, remain active in the arts community, participate in as many outreach programs, maintain his career as a working artist, and care for children, temporarily, at his home.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to answer your call,” he told Cassidy now. He’d missed a few important calls last week, but this would probably be the one he regretted the most. “Let me talk to Georgia”—the program director—“and see if we can’t find a permanent placement for Beck. They graduated high school in May, didn’t they? Are they eighteen yet? Do they have plans for the fall? Are they working at the moment?”
Cassidy shook her head. “No. Beck’s a year younger. They have one year of school to go. And no job. They don’t have a car.”
A serious handicap in an area where infrequent busses were the only form of public transportation.
“We’ll see what we can do. Thanks for letting me know.”
“I figured you’d want to.”
Normally, he would, and when he had a moment to himself, he’d kick his own ass for being too self-absorbed to question a student’s absence. Moving out of the doorway, Victor gestured for Cassidy to precede him. “I might pop back in and chat with Georgia now. Thanks again, Cassidy. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too, Mr. Ness!”
He watched as she joined a circle of friends in the center’s parking lot. Kids who, at a glance, didn’t belong in Northeast Pennsylvania. And, yet, here they were. Brown skin and white skin. Brown hair, black hair, bright pink hair, and a mohawk with green tips. Earrings dangling from lobe to shoulder, sparkling eyeshadow, and a swipe of glittering gloss across the cheeks. Short skirts for every gender identity. Leggings, shorts, and T-shirts. Ripped jeans and shitkickers too. Rainbows and quieter pins for each tribe.
In one sense, these kids—these young adults—were no different to the art-club kids of his generation. But they were different. These kids, whether their parents approved or not, lived mostly out and mostly proud. Thanks to programs like his, and the community center that hosted them. And, thankfully, most of their parents continued to love and support them. It had been a while since he’d had to chat with Georgia about how they could help.
Victor had just turned away when Georgia appeared at the end of the hall. She caught Victor’s eye and smiled. “Hey.” Her gaze shifted to the window and the view of the parking lot. “Cassidy told you what’s up?”
“Yeah, I was coming to talk with you. See what we could do for Beck.”
“Getting them a job is first priority. They’re safe where they are at the moment. Once they’re earning money, we can talk about next steps.”
Victor nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll keep my ear to the ground and let you know if I hear of any opportunities. And I’ve got room if they need somewhere else to stay while they save up for a place of their own.”
“Got you on the list.” Georgia cocked her head to one side. “Everything all right with you?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“I tried calling you last week. Frank and Tom were hosting a game night at the inn. None of us have seen you in ages.”
“It was my grandson’s first birthday.”
“All week?”