the eugene bean

Three weeks ago we agreed to take a 14-year-old foster child into our home. She had been bouncing around from place to place for a couple weeks, and needed a stable environment while her therapist secured a new placement for her. I had no doubts. Respite is something that our family had already discussed, and so we pulled out the air mattress and made room in our home for Sarah.

Sarah's first week was a little bumpy, but nothing to really worry about. I drove her to the mall and to the movies to hang out with her friends. She seemed to enjoy school and talked with me about the books she was reading in class. When I'd pick her up from the movies she would talk about dumping her boyfriend, or getting mad at her friend, or taking her boyfriend back; and it totally reminded me of me at that age, and I enjoyed her.

The second week was a little bit more difficult. I caught her in a lie while picking her up from the movies (she was at the mall and I had to go looking for her), but I thought it seemed normal. I can very easily recall the lying I did as a teenager, and her behavior at 14 didn't seem much different than mine at that age. I spoke with her therapist and we came up with a consequence, Sarah handled it and continued to be open and friendly and talkative to both Ty and I.

Things took a turn for the worse on the Wednesday of her third week. At this point I was no longer sure of my role. Am I guardian, big sister, mother? Her room was a mess, I hadn't given her any household chores, and she pretty much just chatted on My Space all evening. She continued to be polite and well behaved, but I felt in my gut that I wasn't doing what I should for her.

Sarah had asked me if it was ok for her to hang out at the mall after school if her stepfather was willing to pick her up and bring her back home to our house. I discussed it with her therapist and she agreed that it would be fine, although not the best idea for Sarah and her schoolwork. To be honest, I was uncomfortable with the idea, not because I thought anything terrible would happen, but because I felt I was supposed to be teaching her how to be a member of a family and I wasn't. No 14 year old of mine would be allowed to hang out at the mall until 6 on a school night. And I was starting to look at Sarah as a 14-year-old of mine.

That evening I got a call from her step-father saying she wasn't where she was supposed to be, he was tired of being lied to and played, and he was done. He had told her she could figure out her own way home, and since she was my responsibility, that meant me. I managed to get her on her boyfriend's cell phone, told her I was on my way and that she better be there (in front of a store on a busy street) when I arrived.

We had a pretty good conversation that night. I listened to her litany of excuses and calmly (it's so Easy to be calm when it's not J or E, why is that?) wiped out all of her lies until we had finally gotten to some form of truth. She admitted to lying and being a pain, and she seemed sorry for what she had done to her step-dad and me. We discussed consequences, and she agreed that not going anywhere until at least Sunday was fair. She was not happy when I told her I was password protecting the computer and only allowing her an hour a night, but she accepted it.

Yesterday I got a phone call after school from her step-dad, saying that again she wasn't where she was supposed to be. He checked in with the school office and found out that she had skipped out of 5th period and hadn't been seen since. What followed was mass confusion, mass emotion, and mass frustration. My family wound up driving around the city of Eugene for 2 hours looking for a runaway teenager. The police were called and said they'd be on the lookout but couldn't really do anything. I went to her boyfriend's house to see if I could get information from his father, but no one was willing or able to help me find her. At 10:00 last night I got a call from her mother saying that she was giving up and going to bed, and that if the police found her, they'd call me.

Let's just say I didn't sleep very well.

And as of this morning, there has been no word. She made one phone call to her step dad to tell him she was safe, but she hung up before saying anything else. The number she called from was private.

And her clothes are all over the floor in her room, and her shampoo is in the shower, and her toothbrush is in the holder right alongside Js and Es, and I am terribly sad.