head. “He's stressed out 'cause tonight's dessert is riding on this.” He added more quietly, “An' the chemo's got him down today.” Billy glanced over at Elizabet, a little hesitantly, Kayla thought. “So, Elizabet . . . any news?” Using both hands, he shifted his leg, ­encased in a heavy white cast, so he could sit up straighter. “You got any news for me?”
Elizabet sat down on the edge of his bed. “Oh, nothing much. Just a new home for you. It's up in San Francisco and your foster parent is an engineer, just like you asked for.”
“Really?” Billy's eyes were wide. “You did it, Elizabet! I knew you could do it!”
Kayla glanced between Billy and Elizabet, not understanding. “An engineer?” she asked.
Elizabet nodded. “We've been trying to do that, match kids with parents who are in the profession the kid would like to pursue. Billy told me that he wants to study civil engineering; if he can get into college, that is,” she added, giving him a stern look. “After talking with your teachers at your last high school, that may be tougher