I struggle to keep my voice light—the last thing the kid needs is to see that the grownups are upset. “Have you seen it?” Iask.
“No,” hewhispers.
“Oh, man, Simon. You need to. It’s awesome. If you likeStar Warsand space stuff you would definitely likeFirefly.”
I direct my attention back to the TV, but from the corner of my eye I can see that he’s watching me. “Do you know where my mom is?” he finallywhispers.
Oh, God. The poor kid. “I don’t,” I tell him, wishing I had a better answer. “I’msorry.”
“She told me that Lance was going to take care of me now,” he says, swallowing and glancing back to the kitchen. “But I don’t think he likes me verymuch.”
“Oh, hey, Simon,” I say, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “That’s not true. Lance is a really great guy, he’s very nice. I think he just wants to make sure that everything is okay with your mom, that’s why he’s on thephone.”
Simon looks down at his knees. “She told me about him. She said he’s in a band and we’d have a lot of fun together. But I wish I could have stayed with herinstead.”
I feel sick to my stomach. And completely unqualified to deal with this. “I’m sorry,” I say, knowing it’s a beyond lame answer. “You’re probably worried, huh? You know what though, Simon? I’m sure everything is going to be fine. We’re not going to let anything bad happen to you,okay?”
He’s still looking at his knees but I see his head nod, once. There’s a knock on the door and I look over as Dylan lets Louis and Haylee in. “Hey, Simon,” I say, careful to keep my voice bright. “You thirsty,buddy?”
He nods again. “I’ll go and see what’s in the fridge, okay? You watchClone Wars—this is a really good part, you don’t want to miss it. I’ll be rightback.”
I leave him on the couch and head into the dining area where Louis has joined Lance at the table. He’s speaking in calm, even tones. “I just called the label and they’re going to send over a lawyer,” he says as I approach. “They can take care ofeverything.”
“What will the lawyer do?” Lance asks. “Can they findAngie?”
“I’m not sure,” Louis says. “They’ll probably call protectiveservices.”
My stomach drops at the thought of the poor kid going into the system. If he’s scared now I can’t imagine how he would feelthen.
Before Lance can respond, Layla is crossing herarms.
“No way,” she mutters, her voice low and tight. “We’renotdoingthat.”
“Layla,” Louis says, looking up at her, but she’s glaring at Lance. “You want to put him into the system?” she snaps. “They’ll send him to a group home, Lance. Or put him in foster care. Absolutelynot.”
“Keep your voice down,” Dylan says, shooting a concerned glance towardSimon.
Layla rounds on him. “Do I need to remind you how I spent the first fifteen years of my life?” she asks, her eyes flashing. Dylan shuts his mouth and she turns back to the table. “You are not putting that kid into a group home, Lance. I won’t allowit.”
“It’s not really up to you,” Louis says, his calm demeanor showing the first sign of cracking. “Look, Layla, this situation is messed up, okay? We’re all going to do our best to get it worked out. Let’s just take deep breaths until the lawyer gets here. They’ll help us figure out what’s the best thing todo.”
“The best thing for who?” she asks. “That kid? Or theband?”
“Foreveryone.”
No one says anything for a few moments. Finally Lance clears his throat. “How did she never tell me?” he asks, his voice sounding flat and deadened. “Did she think I wouldn’t helpher?”
No one responds and his voice rises a little bit. “Seriously—am I that much of a fuckup that she didn’t even want me to know? Is that why sheleft?”
“Hey,” James says, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You said she wasn’t doing good when she took off, Lance. You didn’t want her to go. This isn’t yourfault.”
“A kid,” he mutters, running his hands over his face. “How is this evenhappening?”
“For all we know, he’s not yours,” Louis saysreasonably.
“She left a birth certificate. He was born seven months after sheleft.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Louis insists. “I’m sure the first thing the lawyer will do is arrange a paternitytest.”