The Last Chance Texaco Read Online Free

Eddy said. "When are we getting cable?"
     
    I couldn't help but notice that they'd both stopped kicking Damon under the table.
     
    At the same time, Leon plopped a plate down in front of me. "Allergic to cheese, right? We made one with soy cheese."
     
    Okay, I thought to myself, so maybe I'd been a little bit wrong. Maybe Kindle Home wasn't
exactly
like every other group home I'd ever lived in.

Chapter Three
    Can I ask you a question?" I said to Yolanda later that night, after we'd gone to bed and turned out the lights.
     
    "I guess," Yolanda said.
     
    "Is this place always like this?"
     
    "Like what?"
     
    "I don't know. It just seems different from the other group homes I've been in." Earlier that evening, we'd played board games. There had only been two throwings of the Pictionary board. This may not sound that great, but compared to other group homes, it was. Trust me on this.
     
    "I guess," Yolanda said. She thought for a second, and I expected her to say something about Kindle Home. Instead, she said, "Do you ever think about your parents?"
     
    "No." It was the truth.
     
    "I do," she said. No kidding, I thought to myself. From what I'd seen so far, that was
all
she thought about. "I miss em."
     
    "What happens when someone has a meltdown?" I said. A meltdown is just like it sounds. It's when some kid completely loses control. Throwing the Pictionary board because you're losing the game is not a meltdown, but breaking a window and using a piece of the broken glass to attack a counselor is.
     
    "It depends," Yolanda said. "When Eric stabbed Juan with a screwdriver, they had to call the cops."
     
    "What'd they do to him?"
     
    "Eric? They sent him to some island."
     
    So the stories were all true. Kindle Home really
was
the Last Chance Texaco.
     
    "And then there was Monica. She kept cutting herself with staples and paper clips. They sent her to the island too. And Brian. Melanie said that Brian tried to rape her, but everyone knew she'd been screwing him all along, and she was just jealous that he liked Monica."
     
    Okay, I thought. I get the picture.
     
    "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Yolanda asked.
     
    "No," I said. This was a lie. I'd had both a brother and a sister. My brother had been killed in the car accident with my parents, but my sister had lived. In the years after the accident, I used to dream that she and I would run off to live in this perfect little cabin up in the mountains--I guess because I was reading
Heidi
the night before my parents were killed. In my mind, like in the book, the cabin had a sleeping loft and a big stone fireplace, and it was perched on a rocky cliff overlooking jagged, snow-covered peaks and fields of goats and wildflowers. But then my sister had been adopted, and she'd moved into a real house. For a while, her new parents were going to adopt me too, but they'd eventually decided I was too much to handle. A little while later, they'd had to move to another state, and I hadn't heard much from my sister since then.
     
    "I wish I had a brother or a sister," Yolanda said. "It was just my parents and me."
     
    "How many chances do they give you?" I said. "Before they send you to the island?"
     
    Yolanda thought for a second, and I was afraid she was going to say something else about her family. "I don't know. They've never sent anyone right away. Not unless they're really violent."
     
    "Who makes the decision?"
     
    Just then the door opened, and light spilled into the bedroom from the hallway. I immediately closed my eyes, and not just because the light was so bright. This was a night spot check. They're real big on knowing where everyone is at all times in group homes, so there are no locks on any of the bedroom doors, and counselors do random spot checks all night long. That way, they can make sure no one is sneaking into any of the other bedrooms to have sex, which is a really big deal, or sneaking away from the house at night, which is an even bigger deal.