You survived a whole week in a fish tank with a bunch of other scary fish, and you didn't die when I put you in a pickle jar and launched you across the room. "It's going to be okay!" I reassure him, and I put my hands on his shoulders, "I mean, look at it this way. "Carter?" He asks, his voice small and hesitant. Fish looks small standing in the shadow of the porch with me, his hands still clutching his jacket tight. We get out of the car together and end up meeting on the crooked brick path leading up to the house. A second later, he uncurls himself and sits up, looking around before focusing on me, searching my expression. "Hey, Fish?" I reach over and I touch his shoulder, shaking him awake, "I think we're here."įish groans and blinks his eyes open.
#CARTER FISH LEMON STRIPES DRIVER#
The couple who were fostering Fish were well-known in town for taking in kids who didn't have a place to stay, so I directed the Uber driver across town and we drove for what seemed like an eternity before arriving in front of this massive Victorian mansion that looked older than anything I had seen before. Thankfully, I had a general idea of where he lived, so it's not a big deal to connect the dots. And by "writing," I mean he basically draws me an image of a cartoon house with a fence out front and a chimney on top and puts the word "Address" next to it.
"Just write your address down real quick," I say, and I hand him a pen and paper.įish reluctantly takes the pen and paper and quickly falls back asleep after writing down the address for me. As much as I wanted Fish to catch up on some much needed shuteye, I had to wake him up again so he could tell me where he actually lives.
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