“Come on. Why don’t you come with me? It’s not safe for you out here. You’ll be safe with me. We can get you cleaned up and see what we can do to find you a permanent place to stay.”
He shrank away from her. “No way! They’ll put me in a group home or something. I don’t want that. I’m fine here. As long as I stay in the shadows, I’ll be okay.”
Something told her he’d had practice staying in the shadows long before he wound up behind a dumpster at the Starlight.
“I think they start with trying to find relatives, and then foster homes. Group homes are usually a last resort.”
“Doesn’t matter; I’m better off here.”
“Have you ever been to a foster home or group home?”
“No,” he muttered.
“Then how do you know? Look, how about you just spend the night? If it’s awful, I’ll let you walk.” She wouldn’t. Not really. She’d do everything in her power to convince him, or look for someone in her family or one of her friends who might be willing to take him, or find someone to care for him before she would bring him back to this Godforsaken place.
He eyed her as he sat a little higher, pondering. “Do you promise?”
“Pinky swear,” she said, holding out a pinky to him.
“Pinky swearing is for girls.”
She looked down and laughed. “Well, I’m a girl, so…”
“Fine,” he said on an exhale of exasperation. “Pinky swear.”
She made him ride in the back. As a result, he crossed his arms, his expression sullen, and kicked her seat for the first ten minutes of the fifteen-minute drive.
Nice to know that he hadn’t been out there long enough obliterate all child-like qualities. At least not yet.
The grime of inner Tampa fell away to impeccably-manicured properties, businesses, and homes on their drive to her small ranch home in North Forest Hills.
“So, what grade are you in?”
“Seventh, why? I’m not going back to school.”
Oh, yes he was. However, he didn’t need to know that just yet. “What was your favorite part of school?”
“When the bell rang.”
She glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “You’re far too young to be this cynical.”
“You found me living behind a dumpster.”
“Okay, you’ve got a point. So, do you have a name?”
“A name?”
“Yes, a name. We’re all given one at birth.”
“I don’t know if I should say. You’ll report me.”
“First name, then. Surely I can’t report you on just a first name.”
“Skyler.”
She smiled at him in the mirror. “Nice to meet you, Skyler. I’m Brynn.”
“You have a last name?”
