Roland’s POV

When I walked into my next session Andrew sitting there looking rather excited, which wasn’t exactly unusual but what threw me for a loop was that Mary was also there looking just as excited. Mary stood Andrew’s side like she had been the last time she dropped by one of my sessions; the time I got in trouble for not doing schoolwork. My stomach turned at the thought but the smiles on their faces vastly contradicts the frowns and
disappointed looks they had last time. 

“Kit told us the good news this morning,” Mary said, her smile seeming to widen as she spoke. “You did your homework?” 

I only nod as I stood in the doorway. Still not feeling comfortable to take my normal seat.

It took all night but I was able to knock out all 13 lessons in one night. Kit had seemed iffy as I blew through assignments and even went as far as to ask if I wanted him to check it, which I had denied. He didn’t seem to like my answer but allowed it regardless.

“Kit told us your favorite thing to fix was cars right?” Mary’s voice was still light and happy but I could see the small bit of sadness in her eyes as she stared at me when I nodded. I knew she wouldn’t allow it. They were too expensive; the cars themselves, the parts, the tool, there’s no way this little camp could afford to spend that much money on one camper.

“We’re willing to help you out since this seems to be something you would benefit from but we are going to put some rules in place.”

My frown deepened at the mention of rules. I should have known they wouldn’t let it happen without some sort of rules but my mind was on nothing but the grease under my nails.

“I’m sure Kit told some yesterday, you must keep up with assignments; in class and homework, you must maintain a C average, you need to start having more productive conversations with Andrew for starters. But there are a few more technical rules that are more for your safety and our peace of mind. You will not have constant access to your cars. When you want to work on them you will have to come to the front office to get your tool box so we can follow how long you’ve been working and you will turn in your toolbox when ever you’re done. 

“You will not be able to work through meals. If you attempt to work through a meal one of us will come and get you to make you eat. You will not be able to work before school and on school nights you will not be able to work before homework is finished with proof and you can’t work past 7 on school nights. Weekends will be allowed until 10 as long as you can still see. We’ll try to get you a head lamp and see if we can try and park all the cars by a street lamp so make sure you aren’t straining your eyes.

“These rules might change depending on how we think this is effecting you’re mental and physical health. Do you have any problems with these rules that you feel might be unfair?”

I wanted to fight for the late night rule but I knew it would be rude so I simply nod.

“When do I get my car?” I asked as I stared at both of them. Mary’s eyes dim for a split second while Andrew’s smile wavered.

Manners Roland. You ungrateful child!

I flinched at the thought but Mary recovered quickly.

“It will take a few days,” she said with a small frown. “I have to figure out where we’re going to get them from and where they’ll Go once you finish them since we have no use for cars here. I’m sorry that I didn’t expect you to get those assignments done in one night or I would have been more prepared. That’s my fault, and I apologize for that.”

I nod, but I’m sure the disappointment showed on my face.

“If you have no more questions, I’ll go look into solutions.”

“I’d like that. Thank you for trying.” She beamed at the words and even Andrew seemed to be pleased at the use of words.

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you two for your session. Please keep in mind those new rules.” She said nothing else as she walked out the door and I forced myself to take my usual seat as Andrew pulled out my file. 

“Is there anything you want to talk about today?” he asked the second the door shut. I only shake my head because I didn’t know what I’m supposed to talk about during these things.

“What made you decide to start doing your work? Was it just the cars or was something else stopping you that was fixed?”

“Both,” I mumbled. I wanted my cars back more than anything, but that Kit had cleaned my books was the only reason I could actually do it. “My books were dirty. I didn’t want to use them. Kit cleaned them.”

“Does dirt both you,” he asked as he wrote something down.

“Dirt is gross. Used books are gross. They have germs, and hand sweat, and boogers.” I don’t bother hiding my cringe as I shake my head at the thought. “It’s gross and I don’t like it.”

“But you don’t mind getting your hands dirty when it comes to fixing things?”

“That’s different. Grease isn’t actually dirty. It’s just black. If its old it can feel gritty and dirty but it’s not dirty. No germs, no human grossness, just gritty grease and oil.”

Andrew seemed pleased with the answer as he wrote it down. I didn’t like having to answer but it wasn’t worth loosing the cars I haven’t even gotten to fix yet.

“Why didn’t you ask anyone to help? If that was the problem I would have cleaned them for you.”

“Because it wasn’t you job. You shouldn’t have had to do it.”

“Yet I would have. Just because it’s not my ‘job’ doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have done it. I’m here to help you. Why would you let Kit help.”

“Because I didn’t let him. I didn’t ask him. He just did it.”

“That’s awful nice of him. I’m glad he helped you.”

I don’t answer because I don’t know how I’m supposed to. 

“What are you most excited for when it comes to the cars?”

This time I answer without a second thought, almost too quickly and the second it left my mouth I regretted it. 

“It’ll feel like home.”

His eyes widened quickly as he wrote it down without looking away from me.

“Home? I know you said your dad taught you to fix things but that’s all you’ve said about your home.”

“I don’t like my home.” My voice trembled at the confession as my throat began to threaten to close up. 

“Did something happen?” I only nod, not trusting my voice. “Why do you like fixing cars if you don’t like remembering home?”

“I like my dad. Dad is the good part of home. It wasn’t the same after that.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died,” I mumbled, trying my hardest to push the words through the lump in my throat. “He was under a car, the jack gave out and he was trapped underneath it. It crushed his ribs and they pierced his lungs. He died a few minutes later but we didn’t find him until a few hours later. The EMTs said it wouldn’t have mattered. They wouldn’t have been able to save him even if we had watched it happen and called them the second it happened. He’d be dead on arrival any way it happened.”

“And you aren’t afraid that will happen to you?”

“It’s a rare occurrence,” I said as I shook my head. “It was just an unfortunate accident. The chances of it happening to me are less than zero as long as I follow safety precautions.”

“How did his death affect you? Loosing a parent is hard at any age but you were young.”

My brain was more than happy to remind me of the years after my father’s death. My mother’s worries, her lectures, her screams of warnings, later her death. The first foster home. The second and then the third until I finally was moved to foster home four before leaving for good and never coming back.

“Bad.”

“Just bad?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said as I bit my lip, my throat still threatening to close up.