Burnt Toast

Johnathsn J. Jebidiah JSchlatt

Johnathan J. Jebidiah JSchlatt was a disaster by the standards of any "normal" person. He was pretty much the poster child for problem kids. He smoked, he drank, he got into fights, he even participated in the occasional light arson. He would blame his upbringing, on pain and hate but it was pointless. He'd meet people with far worse stories that were straight-A, sober, good kids yet, here he was horribly hungover on cheap booze in the passenger seat of his social worker's car. His head lolled to the side, resting against the cold window, which brought some comfort to the pounding headache plaguing him. For the past hour, he'd been begging himself to throw up the little food he had, all over himself, which was not easy. He hadn't been this sober in weeks, not since he was taken from his last foster home.

The last foster home Schlatt was in wasn't good, not at all. He didn't remember too much, he was past out for most of it, and the times he wasn't he'd blocked out the best he could. He didn't know what or who called the police but he knew that he'd never seen Sam so upset. He'd busted through the door of the little room Schlatt stayed in and scooped him up like he was a child.

Sam was Schlatt's social worker, he'd only been so for the last few months since the last placement. His last social worker, Kyle, had disappeared, he wasn't told the whole story but his old social worker and his last foster father had been quite close. Money had been pasted under the table and documents faked.

In the few months, Sam had done more than Schlatt's last social worker did in his 10 years. Sam worked his ass off to make Schlatt's life better, he'd gotten Schlatt's name changed on all his documents, he let Schlatt stay at his house more times than he could count and he didn't treat Schlatt like a lost child. He didn't treat Schlatt's addictions and problems like they weren't there, he didn't try to paint Schlatt like a good kid who went a little off the path. It was pointless to try when Schlatt normally showed up to new placements reeking of alcohol or weed. It was honestly a shock that Sam managed to pull another house out of his ass but he somehow had.

The car ride was long, every jolt made him nearly throw up. Soft music only did so much to calm his nerves, Sam hummed along to the song. It was calm, somewhat domestic but it wouldn't last long. Only another 10 minutes before Sam broke the silence.

" Hey, you up?" Sam's voice was smooth, calming. Schlatt groaned in response. " Listen, Kid, I know that the last few months haven't been good."

"Understatement of the year..." Schlatt muttered, Sam let out a sad laugh.

" I'm sorry, really, you shouldn't have had to go through half the shit you have. It's not fair." Sam did this a lot, ranting off about how unfair Schlatt's life had been like Schlatt didn't know that.

" Sam..." Schlatt sent a glare in his general direction.

" I think this one will be good." Optimism. " I mean it J! Cara is a good person, she's been fostering for years. She's dealt with some rough placements but they've all left her house better than they went in. She's seen pretty much everything."

She hadn't seen Schlatt.

" There's a lot of other foster families and former foster families in the area, so if Cara hasn't seen it one of the others will have. They're all wonderful people, I have six placements in the area, they're all doing fantastically." It was odd. Kyle never told Schlatt about the family's he would be staying with past the most basic information. " They're some of the most caring and accepting people I've ever met."

" That's until they're not. They're nice until you make a mistake until you fuck up and then you get bruises." Schlatt said darkly.

Sam sighed, " Six kids, monthly, private check-ups with each, even more, phone calls and not one bruise. No blood, no knocks at my door at 2 am. These people are good, truly good! Hell, I've seen one of them run home sobbing because he saw a dead bird on his walk. Jonathan, I swear they are good people."