The Preacher's Son - Juliette Duncan Page 0,20

so I went to the city and got arrested anyway.”

I released a heavy sigh. Without Safe Hands, no doubt the only option for Leon would be to join a gang. What a choice for a young boy to have to make.

The thing I couldn’t work out, however, was that he didn’t seem particularly happy to be coming to Safe Hands. I’d seen the look of relief on his face when he so narrowly escaped prison, but he’d also rolled his eyes when I explained what Safe Hands could offer him.

I decided to tackle it the same way I would if he was one of my juvenile offenders back home...head on. “You don’t seem happy, Leon. I thought you wanted to go to school?”

He slunk down in his seat and crossed his arms. “I do. It’s all the other stuff.”

“Church?”

“Yes.”

That surprised me. Most of the Brazilians I’d met so far who weren’t part of the Safe Hands church were Catholic, as was the majority of the country. Still, having a religious tradition that one was born into didn’t always mean having a faith, I supposed.

“You don’t have to come to worship, Leon. David’s already told you that. It’s not compulsory.”

“You say that now.” There was a sullen tone to his voice. “But you’ll want something from me. People always do.”

Expecting that answer, I nodded. He wasn’t so different from the kids back home, after all. He had a deep distrust of authority, and for very good reason. “Well, I’ve only been here for three days, but I’m convinced that Safe Hands is a good place. I don’t think David will want anything from you other than for you to go to school and abide by the rules of the camp, which as far as I’m aware are standard stuff. You know, be nice to each other, keep your room clean, that sort of thing.”

“I know. I’ve met David before. He’s not so bad.”

I frowned, then it dawned on me what he meant. When he’d said ‘you will want something,’ it was me he didn’t trust. My shoulders fell. Why should he? I was a stranger from a strange place who’d breezed in and upended his life in a way that, to a kid like him, probably seemed too good to be true.

“I don’t want anything from you, Leon,” I said softly. When his expression didn’t change, I said more firmly, “This is my job. It’s what I do.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying me. “David pays you?”

“Well, no. I’m volunteering here for three weeks. But back home in Australia, this is what I do every day.”

“With kids?”

“Not at first. But somehow that became my specialty.”

He remained quiet and stared out the window until we were nearly at Camp Bano. Then he turned to me and asked, “Why?”

I frowned. “Why what?”

He tutted as though I was slow. “Why do you do this as a job?”

“Oh. Because…because I’m good at it. It pays well, and also, I care about what happens to people. About how the law treats them. I don’t like unfairness, and I believe most people deserve a second chance.”

“Even bad kids like me?” He tried to say it flippantly, but I could hear the shame throbbing in his voice.

Pulling the car over to the side of the road, I turned in my seat and faced him. “Leon, look at me,” I said quietly but forcefully.

His dark eyes reluctantly lifted and met my gaze.

“You are not bad,” I said emphatically. “Bad things have happened to you, and I don’t doubt you’ve made some bad choices as a result. But you, as a person, are not bad.” That wasn’t quite right, because the Bible says that we are all intrinsically bad, but I didn’t think that would be helpful for him to hear. He needed encouragement, not a put down. And besides, I truly believed he’d been dealt a cruel hand in life.

Blinking, he tore his gaze away. He suddenly looked vulnerable and much younger than his thirteen years. A pang of homesickness for Elijah and Rosie flowed through me. I couldn’t imagine them being in his situation.

“The police think I’m bad.”

I swallowed down my automatic retort as to exactly what I thought of the Capitão. “I think the police are wrong,” I replied simply.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips, but he didn’t respond.

Watching him, I had a sudden thought and blurted, “Is that why you don’t like church?”

His brows came together and he folded his arms. “What do you