Chapter 2
He cannot lie, walking is starting to feel like a chore. He's pretty sure that he spends more time walking to and from school than actually being at school. For the first three weeks the Moreson's had driven him back and forth, he should've known that they would've gotten tired of the haul everyday- twice a day. That's why Peter was speed dialing his case worker while walking back to the apartment.
"It can't be that hard to find an open space! I'm one person. Singular." His hands were being animatedly thrown into the air for dramatic effect, even though she couldn't see him. It helps him, so what.
"I'm sorry Peter but that's not how this works, we've been over this at least a hundred times now."
Again with the arms, "like all I really need is just a roof over my head, hell they don't even have to give me a bed. Just- please." He was even elongating his vowels. He needed something, because he wasn't able to use his puppy dog eyes if she wasn't even physically in front of him. "I swear, I'll be good. I mean, I mean, like. Like for the next people who take me in, I mean."
"You're always good honey."
"... I know. Well like, sometimes." He didn't like when his voice would squeak, and sure someone could make it out as an effect caused by puberty, but he kinda always did it when he was nervous. It was embarrassing.
"All the time," Mary corrected.
"All the time," Peter echoed.
There's some typing on the other end of the line and Peter's getting antsy at this point because he was almost back at the apartment. And maybe he should feel bad about wanting to get away from the Moreson's, but he just doesn't!
"Alright, I found some schools nearby-" Peter groans, loud "-Rockford, it looks promising. Average gpa is a 4.3 and they even have their own academic decathlon."
He kicks at some gravel along his path and puts his back up against a random building's dirty brick wall. "I don't want to switch schools Mary!"
"You don't really have much other options, I can't give you a new placement."
"Then how about you give me my fucking dad back!" He ends the call on that high note, then slams his phone against the wall five times for good measure. He'll fix it later, give him some extra time to ignore Jesus and the others while he's still stuck in that atrocious place.
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Peter stayed up all night, taping his phone back together and listening. Listening to Amanda talk on the phone with her son, he must've smuggled a phone into his jail cell because they were talking for hours.
From the details he picked up when he placed his ear against the door, apparently Amanda was saving every cent that she got for fostering Peter and was going to use it to bail out Martin.
That made Peter feel special and wanted.
He knew something was up when Amanda would grit her teeth with a smile whenever Peter did something that could most likely land him with a scolding of some kind, but it never came. Not even when he spilt his juice all over the floor at dinner one night, he flinched waiting for a scream, waiting for a slap. Nothing. It was getting odd, but now he knew why. Amanda didn't want there to be a reason why she could lose her license. A reason for Peter to snitch. Not that he would anyways, that was the funny thing about the system; the abusive people got away with it without repercussions and kids like Peter got a good talking to about behaving right while being shipped to the next house.
He was elaboratly making a mind map when he heard fingers on the doorknob, he backed up away from the door and flew himself onto the bottom bunk. She always entered without knocking.
"Hey."
"Hi..."
"Tomorrow you're getting a job."
Peter sat up and cleared his throat, "what?"
"Yeah, I found some guy that knows how to get a work permit for kids your age."
And with that she turned their lights out and closed the door.
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The job in question was a sub sandwich shop down the street called Delmar's Deli. Peter adorned a hair net and apron, but he wasn't even making any food. Ryker, some kid that must be post highschool graduation, is making him restock the storefront. So Peter was on his knees digging his hands in a cardboard box replacing all the candy.
He was so angry about his predicament that he didn't care that he was putting the new candy in front of the old. He didn't have time to do this stupid job, he had to do his homework and then write up his plans for him getting his dad back.
Then again, this might be beneficial. He could use this money to start a savings, he could bail his dad out of prison.
"Peter!"
He turned around so fast he knocked over the box of candy he was restocking. Dammit.
"Yes... sir?"
"Dude, I've been calling your name like five times. Get your ass back behind the counter and take these orders."
Peter looked behind Ryker and saw a long line of customers impatiently waiting. He stood up, dusting himself off as he did so, and walked behind the counter.
"Hi," his voice wobbled as he greeted the first customer, "wha-at can I get for you?"
The customer looked unamused, mouth tilted to the side so one half of his mustache hung low. "Give me a number seven and make sure there's no mustard on it this time," his voice was grotesque and grumbly like a train making an emergency stop.
"Right... a number seven." Peter looked down at the register, eyes roaming along the buttons displayed on the screen. He did a small nervous laugh to himself when he couldn't find a key with what the man ordered. He whipped himself around and looked at the menu, number seven was a steak and cheese. Okay. That's simple, he looked back at the register... alright no button for that either.
The man was tapping his foot and both of his wrists were leaning on the counter, "aye man, I don't got all day."
"Sorry, just uh- give me one sec."
Peter walked to the window that looked into the kitchen area of the store, finding Ryker leaning with his back against the prep table, texting on his phone.
"Hey, Ryker. I don't know where this sandwich is, mind helping me?"
Ryker groaned with annoyance and walked out of the kitchen and towards the register. He easily clicked what the man wanted and turned back to Peter, "he always gets that same order, no mustard. Got it handled now?"
He was going to tell him no, he doesn't have it fucking handled, it's his first fucking day, when the older kid left him to his lonesome once more. You have got to be kidding.
Peter walked back to the apartment with tears streaming down his face. He held it together while he was at work. While a lady with a dog in a stroller screamed at him for accidentally charging her twice for a single snickers bar. He frantically apologized and tried to refund her, but the lady didn't care and started berating him. He could handle it. He could. He didn't know why he was crying over something so stupid.
When he got back he noticed everyone was eating at the table already. What a familiar sight. They probably didn't want him to interrupt so he just kept walking to the bedroom and slammed the door, just to make it clear to them that he knew what was going on.
There were footsteps and then the door opened, "hey, don't slam my door or we're gonna have a problem." Amanda sounded sickeningly sweet, a condescending tone laced inbetween her teeth.
He refused to respond and she didn't seem to mind, offering for him to eat with them and then leaving him alone when he didn't budge.
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These classes were grueling in some ways. A lot of legal information was thrown at them, it helped that Pepper knew a lot about the legal aspects of businesses and such. They were also put through many tests and simulations to learn how to react during certain scenarios.
What was hard, was learning that becoming a foster parent did not mean you could adopt the child just because you both liked eachother. They had to work with the child's biological families, the family court, their treatment team and the foster care agency in order to help the reunification process happen. It was going to be challenging, but they were in it for the long haul now.
All they had left was for their agent to come and inspect their home. Making sure the place was safe and secure. Alcohol and weapons locked up. A bed and bedroom, a working bathroom, electricity, making sure the water got cold and hot. It was odd having someone rummage through their personal life. They kept themselves very hidden from the public eye because they are well known public figures, so having a stranger come into their house, just so they can eventually get more strangers in, felt odd but so rewarding.
"You're all set Mr. And Mrs. Stark," the agent signed a form and set it out for them to sign as well. She left them with a copy and she said they'd get a phone call if a placement was found for them.
Tony and Pepper both sat down on the couch, Pepper lifting her legs onto the cushions. She poked her toe onto Tony's thigh, her expression grim when he looked at her. His expression mirrored hers.
...
"We're gonna have kids in our house," she stated. Then she broke out into a smile, "we, we are going to have kids in our house."
Then Tony started smiling too. They were going to have kids in their house. It was going to be a home.
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Six weeks after Peter started working at Delmar's he worked up the courage to ask Amanda if they could go and cash his checks. She agreed and drove them to the closest bank, where she told him to stay put inside the car while she ran in.
He was super giddy, he never really had money. Not his own at least. Ned even gave him an old wallet so he could hold the money inside. He was practically buzzing in his seat when Amanda returned to the vehicle.
Amanda buckled and readjusted her mirrors, ignoring the way Peter was staring at her.
Peter cocked his head to the side letting out a sheepish smile, "can I have my money?"
"Your money?" She questioned. She let out a loose laugh and put the car into drive.
"Yeah? My money... from work?"
"Listen kid, you're practically an adult. You gotta learn how to pay bills eventually."
"What?" His voice quiet, he sank in his seat.
She cut someone off and flipped a man off when he honked at her. "You'll thank me later when you get older."
Peter pulled his hoodie up and tightened the strings. He should've known. He should have fucking known. He never gets anything.
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He had to get out of this house. He felt trapped. He was trapped. He started frantically packing his bag, mixing his clean and dirty laundry, grabbing his textbooks, and sneaking Jesus weed inside one of them. He couldn't run away or the police would arrest him. He didn't know what to do. Mary wasn't any help everytime he called her, all her stupid options included changing schools. He can't change schools. He can't.
He needed his money. Peter put his ear to the door, listening for talking, footsteps, any sign of life. It was silent. Everyone was probably in bed. He cracked the door open and popped his head out.
"Ugh, can you stop making so much noise. I've got a headache."
"Sorry," he wasn't. Jesus never spoke to him unless he was bothering him anyways.
He toed his way out the door and down the hall, he spotted Amanda's purse on the kitchen counter where she always laid it. He opened it and dug around. Oh my god. Why was there so many miniscule things in there? Cigarettes, lighters, napkins, lipstick, condoms, receipts, and a shit ton of change. But not money, not a single bill in there. Where the hell was the money?!
He pocketed the cigarettes, lighter and condoms. Why? Because he felt like it.
He had to do something drastic. Something that would make them so mad, they throw him out on the spot. He's been thrown out for a lot of things, talking back, being too quiet, crying too much, not listening. But never for being violent. It would be his first offense.
He marched back into the bedroom and switched the lights on and pulled the covers off of Jesus.
"What the hell man!"
Peter closed his eyes and took a breath, can't back out now.
"I don't understand Peter. They were really nice to you, they didn't- they didn't even lay a hand on you. Or raise their voices." Peter turned his head sharply to the side. One, because he's pissed off. Two, he doesn't want her to see the tears that are threatening to escape.
He couldn't tell her what has been happening, that Amanda was using the system, abusing it. Because she wasn't abusing him.
"You're really lucky, you know that? They could have had you arrested." And she knows she shouldn't be talking to him like this, that she's losing her cool because it's the middle of the night, and she just wanted to have a peaceful night of sleeping and then waking up late in the day.
"Lucky? You think I'm lucky?"
"Pete, honey, that's not what I meant."
"Whatever."
She wanted to scream and cry. She just wanted this boy to have a permanent place, she would take him in herself if she could. She loved him like her own, and maybe that was inappropriate, but she has worked with Peter the longest out of all her case assignments. Saw him from when he was a sassy eight year old to a sassier fifteen year old. She saw all his moods, happy, sad, angry. That's why she doesn't understand what happened tonight.
Peter had been refusing to speak to her about it. He has lost his cool plenty of times, mostly towards her. And she understands that. Tries to place herself in his shoes when it happens so she doesn't engage wrongfully back. It takes a toll on her watching him breakdown over and over and over again. Wants to hold him in her arms and never let go. But alas, she has to lead him into homes blindly, can only hope they're going to treat him well.
She pulls up to a quaint house located on the outskirts of the city. It's just an emergency placement for the night, so they can sleep and reassess the situation in the morning. He's been in a lot of emergency placement homes, these homes often are older couples that are willing to help, but can't watch the kids long term.
She opens her door and starts walking towards the fenced in yard, lacking a teenager following her she turns around. She opens his side door, waiting for him to unbuckle.
"I don't want to go in there."
"Sweetie, they're really nice, okay? It's just for the night."
"Please, don't make me go in there," he whispers. "Can't I just stay with you?"
She bows her head as she squats down to his seated level, "we've been over this. That's not possible." When he didn't reply she continued, "I understand this is hard, but we're a team. I promise I'm going to find an amazing home for you soon."
She probably shouldn't make promises that she couldn't keep. Has even been trained to not do that. But she needed to make the promise for herself too.
"Sweetie, it's late, we're both tired. Let's just go see how they are alright?"
He begrudgingly unbuckled and walked past her through the yard, she followed and caught up to him as they walked up the front porch.
"I'm proud of you sweetie."
She knocked and the older couple answered in their pajamas, offering cookies and hot chocolate. She held the back of Peter's head as they entered and felt slightly stung when he swung his head forward so her hand would fall.
The older woman offered to show Peter where he'd be sleeping and he nodded in agreement.
"Don't call me sweetie," he aimed at Mary and left with the lady.