“Not really,” she says, her voice soft but not lacking in confidence.
That fits. By the time you age out of the system, you’ve either got brazenness to spare or you’re stamped so far underfoot, no one can see you.
She chews on the side of her thumbnail, eyeing us both with a hefty dose of caution. “Are you the extent of the flatmates I’m not allowed to hook up with if I vote no, or are there more?”
“It’s just us,” Finley says, recovering from her earlier bout of shyness. “Unless Rosa’s stored one of her conquests under the bed again.”
“That was one time,” I say, rolling my eyes at the new girl to include her. “And if you passed on information about scheduled home visits, I wouldn’t need to stash boys away at short notice.”
Lily frowns. “Who does home visits?”
“Some transitional officer funded by the government to make sure we don’t have too much fun,” Finley says, looking like the entire system is a personal affront. “And our case workers whenever they want.”
“Just call us grand central station,” I jibe. “You want a drink of anything?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Food?”
“I had something already.”
“Oh,” Finley exclaims, tapping me on the shoulder. “Forgot to tell you, Ben dropped by with a party invite. Some rich guy’s house, over in Fendalton.”
“For me or for all of us?”
“The more the merrier, he said. There’ll be free food and booze, so dinner’s sorted.”
“Is Ben your boyfriend?” Lily asks.
“No, he’s a friend from my last foster home.” I turn to Finley. “How’re we getting there?”
“The magic of public transport.”
“And home?”
“The magic of hire scooters.”
“Doesn’t your girlfriend have a car?”
“I’m single.”
My eyes flick up and down Finley’s length, understanding why she’s added the new blue streaks in her already multi-coloured hair. “When did that happen?”
“Yesterday, maybe the day before. I’ve sworn off women for the foreseeable.”
“Well, that was appalling timing. Couldn’t you put out for longer to save the rest of us from ruining our feet by walking in heels?”
Finley purses her lips, trying to make eye contact with Lily and finding absolutely no help from that quarter. “You coming?”
Lily tips her head forward so her curly hair hides her face. A neat trick. I should see if the hairdresser can work some magic to make mine do the same. “Can’t. I’ve got a visit with my sister tomorrow and I have enough black marks against me without adding a hangover to the mix.”
“Right.” Finley turns. “Just you and me, kiddo.”
“What’s this?” I ask, picking a white envelope off the bench with my name written on it.
“I’m no expert, but I think that’s mail. Your mail, to be precise.”
“There’s no stamp.”
