My Name Is River Blue Read Online Free

other foster
boys never let us forget that they were better than we were, but they were too
afraid to hurt us physically. Jonas was Henry's "big brother" just as
Sean was mine. They were two of the toughest boys in the house, and the rest of
the guys didn't want any part of having to fight our "bigs."
    For the next few
years, I continued to endure emotional abuse from people in my foster homes and
schools. Although I tried to hide the hurt, my anger grew more difficult for me
to control, and I gradually changed into a boy who was not willing to be a
passive victim of bigotry and bullying.
    ***
    When there was
an opening with a foster family, Mr. Bonner and Mrs. Glover selected one of the
boys they thought might fit well with that family and moved him on a trial
basis. If it was a good match, it freed up needed space in the boys home for
those boys with severe behavioral problems that no foster family wanted. I
wasn't one of the wacko boys, and Mrs. Glover was successful in finding a few
families willing to take me, but none of the placements ended well.
    I was almost
eight years old when Mrs. Glover took me to live with the Abernathy family. On
the long ride to their small farm in the country, my caseworker casually
mentioned that Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy and their two teenage children were
African-Americans. She hoped that I was okay with that because she had no other
options for me at the time. I told her it was fine with me, if it was fine with
them, and she informed me that they already knew all about me and really wanted
me. I gave her the biggest grin I could, and she visibly relaxed her pale, chubby
face. I was so excited that I began giggling and soon, Mrs. Glover was giggling
right along with me.
    The Abernathy
farm was so far out in the country that I had to change schools and I still had
a long bus ride back and forth to an old elementary school building that the
county condemned two years after I left it. I'm not sure how close the nearest
neighbor was, but I remember that I could not see another house in any
direction, and we had to ride several miles towards town before I saw anything
but woods or farmland.
    Mr. Abernathy owned
a small general repair business in the Grovetown community. On his farm, he grew
vegetables, most of which he sold to regular customers and to people driving by
his roadside stand next to the entrance to his long driveway. There were plenty
of vegetables left over to feed his family, and I learned the difference
between eating fresh vegetables and the crap I had eaten at the boys home. Mrs.
Abernathy was a great cook and homemaker in addition to helping with the garden
and the vegetable stand.
    The Abernathy
children were Marcus, who was eighteen, and Tasha, who was fifteen. Marcus was
a senior in high school and a huge, standout football player who would be
attending college on an athletic scholarship. Tasha was a freshman whose
favorite activity was talking to boys. Both of them had daily chores to do, and
when I moved in with them, Mr. Abernathy assigned light chores to me that he
thought I was old enough to handle.
    After only a week,
I wanted to stay with the Abernathy family and make the farm my permanent home.
I felt that I belonged there, and not only because everyone was kind to me, but
because I enjoyed the country. Living on the Abernathy farm was the beginning
of my love for the outdoors where every day was an adventure for a little boy. As
much as I explored the farm and the surrounding woods, I was lucky that I never
lost my way.
    Usually a foster
kid would have his own room, but the Abernathy home was an exception. Since
they only had three bedrooms in the house, I shared Marcus's bedroom and slept
on a single bed across from his double. He also had his own bathroom that he
allowed me to use. Sharing was easy because we couldn't have gotten along any
better than we did, and I quickly developed a case of hero worship for the big
football player.
    Mr. Abernathy
gave Marcus the