I waved that off. “Please. Gross. I hate them too.”
A snort escaped her before she caught herself. When she did, her mouth went flat, and her eyes turned hostile. “Where I live is none of your business.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
She jerked upright, hissing. She was readying for a fight.
I ignored it. Her. The fight she wanted to spew, and I looked around her room again.
I let out a sigh.
“I did this, you know.” My gaze caught and held on a row of stars, cut out and taped on a string. She hung them on the far wall. Those stars came from the center. I remembered seeing her at the craft table. She spent hours there, and I saw some snowflakes she’d cut out too. They were taped to the wall above the empty spot. A heart that she’d turned into a card, like it was a Valentine’s Day card. That was propped so it was standing upright, also by that spot.
She loved whoever slept there.
“You did what? Narc on another runaway, thinking you were doing the right thing.” She sneered. “Bitch, please.”
“Bitch, yes please.”
Her face went blank. “What?”
My gaze found hers again. “Bitch, yes please. If you’re going to be rude, at least add the yes. Makes it snarkier. More sass. Nothing wrong with having more sass. I’ve had my own moments too.” I motioned around the place. “And no, I meant that I’ve done this.This.” There were smaller items. A little wolf carving on the floor. “I had a good foster home when I was eight, but I had to leave when I was sixteen. Before that, I ran away a couple times. Before I was eight. And a few other times when I was sixteen.” That was before Creighton found me, when he began threatening my new foster parents. Every time I was moved, he showed up and let the parents know how it was going to go for me. It was his form of Creighton’s Foster Care Orientation.
I never had to run again.
He never asked why I didn’t runtohim. I wondered about that.
“You were a runaway before you were eight?”
I nodded. “Yeah. So I get it. I do.” I pinned a look at her. “But I know your foster parents. I’ve met them. They seem like decent ones. Why ...” I changed course. “You and whoever sleeps there, you two got separated?”
I lifted my head, making sure she could see my face. Read me.
She saw no judgment. Her shoulders suddenly slumped, and her head hung down. A weight fell from her. “Yeah. My little sister. They—” She let out a harsh breath. “I can’t tell you why, but she couldn’t stay where she was. I don’t have much longer anyways.”
“You’re fifteen.”
“I can do the thing where I file to get released early at sixteen from the state. That’s a thing. Isn’t it?”
Yeah. It was a thing. And she was going to try and get legal custody of her sister. I saw it all on her face. The hope. The desperation. I didn’t know if it would work. I doubted it would, but she just gave me something to work with.
“You’ll need a job.”
Her head jerked up. “What?”
“You’ll need a place to stay.” I cast a glance around the room, shaking my head. “This won’t work. You’ll needlegalhousing. An apartment probably. You’ll have to have a working bathroom. A kitchen. You can sleep in the living room, but she’ll need her own room.”
Hurt flared in her eyes. Her bottom lip started quivering. “Why are you saying this? You trying to mess me up or something?”
“I’m laying out what you’ll need to do for the state to even consider giving custody to you. That’s what you’re planning, right?”
She didn’t reply, but a sheen of tears told me I was right.
“Where’s your sister now?”
“Her foster parents haven’t reported her gone yet. She’s still going to school. One of her classmates invited a few of the girls over for a birthday sleepover.”
That was good. Real good.
