He knew better than to complain about his situation. Once, he had let it drop to a teacher that he wasn’t happy with his life at home. She had immediately passed it on to the principal. Boneh had found himself facing a huge cherry wood desk with the big guy himself on the other side, asking him all sorts of questions.
Did his Gran drink? No.
Did his Gran gamble? No.
Did his grand-uncle abuse him in any way?
No.
Did they make him work?
He decided at this point not to mention making dinner and
again answered, No.
Did they provide for his basic needs?
Yes.
The grilling had taught him that it was best just to keep quiet. He told himself it was only a matter of waiting a bit. In a few
years, he would be on his own. Maybe he could join the army, go to Iraq, see his dad. Whatever. Just to get away from the cats.
He never said, even in his mind, to get away from Gran. Gran had been raising him since he was five. But there was just something inside of him that said, there’s got to be more.