Her expression was grave.
A skinny figure in a hood stood hunched low beside her.
“What the fuck is the meaning of this?” Mother asked as she stared down at the intruder, much more sober than earlier. “We ain’t selling our drink at the front door—you’ll have to just wait till Monday and get it in the woods like everyone else in the park.”
Beside Mother, Father opened his mouth and slurred out illegible sounds.
“Thank you—a very generous offer,” the elderly woman said, her tone insinuating it was anything but.
She cleared her throat.
“I’m here because the United States Government, led by the Spartan Federation, has allotted you responsible for a second fosterchild. Monthly food vouchers will be sent accordingly to cover his expenses. His name is Charlie.”
I’ve never heard of foster kids being delivered to doors.
Before anyone could react, the elderly woman—with surprising strength—shoved Charlie up the steps into the trailer, then slammed the door shut.
Mother scoffed at the child. “They’ll be hearing from us. This is fucking ridiculous. We didn’t sign up for another one. We can’t even feed the other fucking thing.”
Nice, I’m an object now.
Father stumbled over to the ratty couch, collapsed on it, face forward, and snored.
Mother grabbed Charlie by the scrawny arm and dragged him toward my cardboard box. I closed my eyes tight and pretended to sleep.
“Boy, you can sleep next to... Alex—there’s enough room.”
From the long pause, she’d struggled to remember my name.Rude. I’d been living with her for almost ten years.
Mother stomped away loudly, broken springs creaked as she got into her bed.
I squinted through my lashes.
Charlie was kneeling in front of me.
I gasped.
His eyes were an unnatural shade of yellow that almost glowed in the dark.
Greasy blond hair hung around his pale pointy face and dark circles rimmed his sunken features.
“I’m A-Alexis,” I whispered cautiously, holding out my bruised hand. My aching wrist trembled as I waited to see what he would do.
Is he going to mock my stutter?
He stared at my hand but didn’t take it.
If his eyes weren’t open, I would have struggled to believe he was alive because he was so still.
I put my hand down and shifted so there was room in the cardboard box.
We were both small. We could fit.
Discreetly, I moved Nyx to my other side so he wouldn’t touch her.
“I’m ten,” I offered softly. “Are you—also ten?”
Charlie shook his head, then gingerly lowered himself into the space beside me. He still didn’t speak.
