The Endgame Is You (Rixon Raiders #4) - L A Cotton Page 0,40
some new kids signposted to the program, three brothers. They recently got placed into foster care. “The elder two, Jay and Mario are a little uncertain, but I’ve paired them up with Pat and Hershel.”
“And the youngest?”
“Hugo, he’s only six. His file says he’s been a selective mute for the last two years.”
My heart clenched. I’d seen a lot during my time volunteering with New Hope. It ran a Big Brothers, Big Sisters style program for kids in the foster care system, but instead of one-to-one activities, it operated at a community level. They held weekly sessions, and monthly group events, as well as providing ongoing support to the foster families and their charges.
“Here.” Sally thrust a file at me. “It makes for difficult reading. Hugo is ready and waiting when you are.”
I sat down on the leather bench in her office and flicked open the file.
Hugo Garcia aged six. Two siblings, Jay, aged eleven, and Mario, aged fourteen. Father unknown, mother known to authorities since Mario was just three, after she started turning tricks to make ends meet. A history of narcotic use, neglect, and poor school attendance.
“Jesus,” I breathed, trying to get a hold on my emotions. No matter how many case files I read, it never got any easier.
“Jay and Mario have friends, they were able to get out of the house, but Hugo...” Sally’s voice trailed off.
“It says here he likes football.”
She nodded. “Came in clutching a stuffed Eagles mascot.”
“I can work with that.” At least, I hoped I could.
“If anyone can reach him, Mya, it’s you.”
Her words touched something inside me. All I wanted was to make a positive difference on the lives of the kids I encountered, so to have my mentor say that was everything.
I left Sally and went to find Hugo, spotting him the second I stepped into the main hall. A small kid with a head full of brown, curly hair, he watched the other kids and volunteers play a game of hacky sack.
I grabbed a soft football out of the box and made my way over to him. “Mind if I sit here?”
His silence and lack of eye contact spoke volumes. Instead, Hugo gave me a half-shrug and shifted along the bench.
“I’m Mya. I was hoping we could hang out.”
More silence. But I didn’t let it faze me. You had to have thick skin to work with these kids. Kids who had seen and experienced things no kid ever should.
“Is that Swoop?” I motioned to the tatty stuffed eagle in Hugo’s hands. He was clutching onto the thing so tight I was surprised it hadn’t ripped clean in two.
But he didn’t respond.
“I’m not a huge fan, but my boyfriend plays for a college team. He’s pretty good.”
Hugo glanced at me, his stare so dull and lifeless it twisted my insides.
What had this poor kid seen to make him choose not to communicate? To build walls so high he didn’t know how to break through them? To choose isolation and solace over comfort and security?
“His name is Asher, he plays defense.”
Hugo averted his gaze again, and the seed of hope that had flourished in my chest withered and died. But I’d keep pushing. Slowly and surely, I’d prove to this six-year-old with pain in his eyes that he could trust me.
Two weeks and three more sessions later, Hugo still refused to talk. He barely engaged in sessions, choosing to color or read a book in silence. His brothers had flourished, although Jay preferred the physical activities laid on by the center while Mario preferred the more creative ones.
“There you are.” Asher looped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest as I added milk to my cereal.
“Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”
He made me drop the spoon and turned me in his arms. “The kid?” His brows furrowed.
“He’s just so... sad. It breaks my heart.”
“Babe, we talked about this. You can’t fix every kid who comes through the doors.”
“I know.” I bristled. “But you haven’t seen him, Ash. He just sits there, completely closed off. I’ve spent almost ten hours with him, and he hasn’t said a single word to me.”
It was no time in the grand scheme of things, but it was the first time I’d worked with a selective mute before. It was hard not to let my own frustrations bleed over.
“You promised you wouldn’t get too involved.”
“I’m not,” I snapped a little too harshly, and Asher arched a brow. “Sorry, I just—”