Finding Stevie: A teenager in crisis. Cathy Glass

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      Chapter Seven

       Quiet and Withdrawn

      Once home I asked Stevie to unpack the bags he’d brought from his gran’s and get out his school uniform, so he was ready for school the next day. Paula returned home from college – her first day back after the Christmas break. She was studying business studies, which she hoped would allow her a career in a company, though exactly what type of company she wasn’t sure yet. She was quieter than Lucy and tended to give matters a lot of thought, sometimes overthinking. But she could be assertive and stand up for herself if necessary. She and Adrian saw their father every six weeks or so, and made their own arrangements now they were older. Lucy saw her birth mother once or twice a year.

      Adrian was working a late shift, so I plated up his dinner for when he came home, and called Lucy, Stevie and Paula to the table. Stevie arrived wearing make-up – but not too much – and had changed clothes and was now wearing dusty pink skinny trousers and matching shirt.

      ‘Wow!’ Lucy said admiringly. ‘You look good.’

      ‘You like it?’ Stevie asked, pleased and doing a turn.

      ‘Yes, it suits you.’

      It did. Although I could see how his grandparents might struggle with their grandson in pink when it was a colour traditionally associated with girls. An outfit like this would also draw attention to him, possibly unwanted attention, I thought protectively. But you can’t keep young people wrapped up in cotton wool; sometimes they have to learn for themselves.

      Stevie took his place at the table and we all began eating.

      ‘How did you get into all this tranny stuff?’ Lucy asked after a moment.

      ‘Online, I guess,’ Stevie replied with a shrug. ‘Although it’s not really tranny. I googled how I was feeling and up came all these websites. I couldn’t believe it – young people discussing exactly how I felt! It was such a relief.’

      I nodded. I could imagine the comfort he’d found in discovering other like-minded people. Although there is a dark side to the internet, there are many positives too: easy access to information and learning, shopping, up-to-the-minute news and the ability to connect people all over the world for business and socialising, support and reassurance, to name a few.

      ‘I’ve made a lot of friends online,’ Stevie added. ‘I can share stuff with them that I can’t with others because they understand. They know how I feel.’

      ‘That’s good,’ I said, ‘but just remember that online friends aren’t the same as those you know in person – at school or in the area. The only thing you know for sure about the person you are talking to online is that they can type.’

      Stevie looked at me for a moment, puzzled, then said, ‘Oh yes, I see what you mean.’

      ‘Mum says that a lot when she lectures us about staying safe online,’ Lucy said.

      Stevie had paused from eating and appeared deep in thought.

      ‘Are you going to school tomorrow?’ Paula asked him presently.

      ‘Yes,’ he replied, and continued eating.

      The conversation ran on as we ate, with talk about school and college. I offered to take Stevie to school in the car the following morning for his first day back, but he didn’t want me to, saying he would use the bus. He knew the bus stop was a short walk away at the top of our road and that the bus would take him right to his school.

      ‘I will go,’ he said to me, as if the reason I’d offered him a lift was because I doubted he’d get there.

      ‘I know, I trust you,’ I said. ‘I just thought you might prefer a lift on your first day back. A bit of support.’

      I did trust him. I always trust people until they give me a reason not to. At Stevie’s age, of course, he should be allowed to go to school and come home by bus. I told him what time he’d need to be up in the morning to leave the house on time. ‘And I’ll expect you home by four-thirty,’ I said. ‘Text me if you’re going to be late.’

      One of the first things I do when I’m fostering a young person is to exchange mobile phone numbers, so I can get in touch with them and they with me. My number was now in Stevie’s phone and his was in mine.

      That evening, while everyone was occupied in their rooms, I wrote up my log notes, then went online and found Stevie’s Facebook page. His security was set to high strength so none of his details or photographs were public; only ‘friends’ could see them. I clicked on the box to send him a friendship request.

      Stevie slept well again, very well, and it took a bit of persuading to get him up the following morning so he had time for breakfast. I gave him money for his school dinner and checked he had his bus pass with him, then saw him off at the door. ‘Good luck. Text me if you want a lift home, otherwise I’ll see you at four-thirty,’ I said.

      He nodded and, slipping in the earbuds he’d brought from home, went up the front path. He looked very smart in his school uniform, although I noticed his trousers were a fraction too short. At his age he would be having growth spurts and continually need new clothes. But of course he’d spent all his clothing allowance for the month on a new pair of jeans, so I would buy what he needed. Foster carers receive an allowance, but it rarely covers everything a young person needs and they dig into their own pockets as they would for their own children.