by G. Benson
All night, Carmen lay awake, bouncing her leg nervously, biting her fingers until they bled. In this state, rules were supposed to be followed that ensured siblings saw each other, even if placed separately, but she knew from last time how quickly that promise could fall apart.
And that was only if anyone actually made it happen in the first place.
At least they’d been together in the first house, when Carmen had been eleven. The second time, two years later, had been a mess. Three foster homes in as many months. The last one she’d been sent to had left a trail of scars through Carmen’s mind she didn’t think would ever fade. She’d only lasted there a week. Over the few months she’d been in the homes, Carmen had gotten to see Mattie twice. Each time, he had withdrawn a little more. She’d only seen more of him after the third home because she’d run away and taken matters into her own hands.
When they were finally back together at home, he’d been like a shell—one Carmen hadn’t been able to crack open for months. The three different schools they went to as their mother moved them around didn’t help.
He was older now. What if it happened again? What if that shell grew thicker, more impenetrable?
Whatever happened now could be permanent.
Her mother, God, her mother. Carmen jammed her hand into her mouth again. The scrapes from her teeth, from doing this again and again in the last week, cracked open as she bit down. She needed to stifle the sob that threatened to break her open at the thought of her goddamned, fucking mother. She was dead, they had no semblance of a home now to go back to. No way to try to make everything as normal as possible for Mattie. She’d be on the other side of the city in a new school, too far away to help him.
Who knew where he’d be, what his placement would be like. That lack of information was an unknown that loomed so big it shadowed Carmen’s eyes with its ferocity. The lump that had taken permanent residence in her throat grew at the thought that he would most likely end up shipped from house to house… She’d seen some of those kids and where they ended up.
Maybe if she could keep him from shattering again over the next year and a half, she could then take guardianship. But then she’d need a job, money, a house. How could she prove she was able to take care of him?
She had nothing.
When someone knocked on the door to rouse the six of them in her dorm, Carmen was still staring upward, her eyes red and the edge of an idea in her mind.
She wasn’t doing this again.
She couldn’t.
The day after Carmen had kissed Ollie and torn her apart, leaving her to pull all her dizzy pieces back together, Ollie went to school, leaving behind a trail of clothes scattered around her room. She’d thrown them on and off again, in an attempt to find an outfit that would make Carmen and her grasping fingers want to tear her into little pieces once more, with her tongue slipping against Ollie’s own.
It was a little embarrassing and not at all like Ollie to stress over an outfit.
“Babe.”
Ollie kept her eyes on the door of the cafeteria. “Mm?”
“Babe.” Sean’s voice grated a little. “You’re so distracted.”
Hurt laced his voice, and her stomach twinged with guilt. “Sorry.” She turned back to him, trying to keep her attention from flitting from person to person. To focus on him and her friends. The sound of their voices as they rose and fell in patterns was a sound she normally melded her own voice to easily, but today just even hearing them was a struggle.
Ollie laughed at something someone said, only slightly forced, and Sean’s shoulders relaxed next to her, tension seeping from his body. But Sara just watched her, head slightly cocked. So Ollie ignored her and went back to watching the students who floated in and out.
In the bathroom, Sara cornered Ollie, a hand on her hip and eyes lit with curiosity. “Were you watching for Carmen again?”
“What?” Ollie heard the high lilt at the end of the word, but couldn’t stop it. “No. No, I’m just…distracted today. Big test in Chem.”
One she’d fail, because instead of studying, Ollie had drawn the same eyes over and over again in her notebook all last night. Her own eyes had burned as sleep evaded her and the look she was trying to capture on paper did so as well.
What was Ollie doing with Carmen? She didn’t know. Something fun, she supposed, a distraction from the feeling of monotony that sometimes cracked against her bones. But also, there was something about her eyes and the way she seemed to wander around, lost, that made Ollie want to follow her.
But Sara wouldn’t let it go. “Don’t lie to me, Ollie—I’ve known you six years. You blink three times in a row when you lie.”
“Do not.” Ollie’s eyes started to water as she tried not to blink at all.
“Now you look constipated.”
With a snorting laugh, Ollie rolled her eyes, and some of the tension that had slid in between them dissipated, filtered away in shared, knowing smiles.
“So why can’t you keep your eyes off Carmen?”
Ollie sighed and decided on a half-truth. “I don’t know. We’ve been getting to know each other. And if those rumors are true…”
“You’re worried about her?”
Ollie shrugged helplessly, not sure how to put the feeling curling in her chest into words. “She’s not here again today. Yesterday, it seemed like she was back.” Back and wreaking havoc on Ollie’s mind.
“Just add her on Facebook like the rest of the world when they’re trying to get in touch with someone. Or Snapchat.” Sara leaned toward the mirror, fingers at her hair, and missed the flush Ollie could feel heating her cheeks.
“She’s not on either.”
Sara froze. “Who isn’t on Facebook?”
“Exactly.”
Straightening, Sara pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Twitter? Tumblr? The school’s forum? Instagram?”
“Not that I could find.” So maybe Ollie hadn’t only been drawing last night.
Jamming the phone back in her pocket, Sara pursed her lips for a minute, a sure sign she was thinking as quickly as she could. “Well, we need to get someone on this who knows more than we do.”
“Deon?”
“Deon.”
Ollie grinned.
“But not yet, you giant stalker.”
Her grin fell. “Why?”
“Because she was here yesterday. It’s only been twenty-four hours. Maybe it was her mom’s funeral or something…”
Ollie pressed against the wall, crossing her arms. Sara made a good point, and if Ollie pushed, Sara would ask questions, and Ollie was answerless. She had no idea why she cared or what exactly about Carmen left her reeling.
But something did.
And that was enough to break up with Sean, with a fast sentence and a twist of guilt in her gut. She did it after school and said sorry and tried not to dwell on the fact he didn’t really look surprised, even as hurt crept into his expression.
On the bus that took them to school, Carmen sat close to Mattie, who grudgingly allowed it, despite his mood. The bundle of bills Carmen had taken from the social worker’s bag that morning were lead in her pocket. Her fingers had slid in easily, muscle memory helping her pluck them out and slip them into her own pocket in a split second. She’d ignored the flare of guilt, the quickening of her heart. This morning, she’d made short work of shoving the things into her oversized backpack that she’d managed to think to bring the blurry night the police had come knocking. The pack sat at her feet, ratty and worn and matching her heart. She didn’t have a lot, as mostly she wanted anything warm and her toiletries, along with some extras. As her teeth worried at her lip, she had slipped in a textbook, weighty and unnecessary. At the bottom was the sleeping bag she’d now had for years.
Next to her,
Mattie resolutely stared forward. He hadn’t spoken since last night, not one word to her, no matter how much she tried to promise him it would be fine, that they’d see each other all the time. All he did was stare ahead, his jaw tight. The reassurances had tasted bitter on her tongue, and she eventually stopped spilling them forth.
When they got to Mattie’s school first, he stormed down the aisle to get off the bus, and Carmen let him be angry, let him walk away, and dropped her forehead against the bus window, the vibrations giving her a headache.
At her own school, she got off and waited for the bus to turn away. Once it was out of sight, she just walked down the street, her hood pulled over her head and her hands buried in her pockets, fingers plucking at the money that was burning her.
She wandered all day, ending up in a park and pulling out her favorite textbook. While the breeze played at her hair, she devoured it and tried not to think of how Ollie had felt, between her body and the wall. She could almost feel the clinging of her fingers, the way Ollie had pulled her closer and closer, taking the desperation Carmen needed someone to absorb. And Ollie had definitely done that. So Carmen tried not to think of it but to concentrate on the text in front of her.
Beyond all of that, she tried not to think about Mattie, about her mother, about what was to come.
Hours later, when school was due to finish, she ended up near Mattie’s school, waiting until the bell rang to seek him out. He barely showed surprise when she curled her fingers around his arm and drew him around a corner into the shelter of some trees. Cool shade ran over her skin, and spots of light through the leaves danced over his cheeks.
“Mattie…”
“You’re leaving.”
He knew her too well. “Not the city, I’ll… I’ll be here when you need me.”
His lip quivered, though Carmen thought she may have imagined it, because the next second his jaw was clenched. “No.”
“Mattie…” How did she explain that she had to? She couldn’t be where she had been before, just couldn’t. If she’d been placed with Mattie, maybe, but in one of those places? Alone?
“No! Last time I barely saw you. They—they kept us apart.”
Carmen fell to a knee in front of him, the coolness of the grass seeping through her jeans. “When I left last time, I saw you more than when I was in the foster homes. I could stop by the school, like I am right now.”
He stared at her, his eyes narrowing, his voice baby-soft. “But this time we can’t end up at home.”
“I know… I’m going to fix it, Mattie. I am going to make sure I can be with you when I turn eighteen.”
He shook his head. “No. I’m coming.”
Somehow, she’d expected that, yet the words still hit her like a slap. “What? You can’t. You have school, you need…a house.” The argument was weak, but the basic idea was a truth Carmen couldn’t deny.
“And you don’t?”
Carmen blinked at him, because she had no retort to that. “You—you know I can handle myself.” She gave a half-hearted wink he didn’t even acknowledge.
With a fluid motion, he pulled his backpack to his front and unzipped it to show it was stuffed with clothes, a toothbrush poking out, and his DS crammed on top.
Panic crawled along her skin. “You were going to run? No.” Her fingers dug into his bicep, too hard, too frantic, but he didn’t flinch. Horror crawled up her throat at the idea of him alone on the streets. They were going to collect him from school that afternoon to take him to the new place, and he hadn’t planned to be there. Carmen couldn’t even be mad—she’d done it before, and she had been about to do it again. She was the worst of all influences. But she hadn’t been eight; she’d been thirteen—and this time, sixteen. “Mattie, no. You can never run away. You’d be alone. The streets aren’t something fun.”
He stared her straight in the eye, her little brother who was growing too tall too quickly, his face thinning and his baby fat dropping. The glint in his eyes was something most adults didn’t have. “I wasn’t going to go alone. I knew you’d run too.”
For a second, the need for a reprieve broke her, and Carmen dropped her head, still clinging to his bony arms. Too thin; he’d always been too thin. He needed school. He needed food. He needed a roof; he was only eight.
With a breath to inflate her, to build her up, to give her the strength to walk away, Carmen looked up. “You can’t come. Once they stop watching you to find me, I’ll try and stop by the school to see you, like last time.”
His jaw clenched. “They might make me move schools.”
“I’ll find you.”
“How?” He shouted the word at her, his eyes red and brimming, yet nothing on his cheeks but a blazing-red anger.
“I just will, Mattie! I always do.”
“Carmen.” His voice was rough, hoarse, strained, and she hated what the world was doing to him. “You can’t leave me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She tried to wrap her arms around him, but he pushed her off, planting his hands on her chest and shoving her backward. She landed hard on the ground, but all she could see was how tears streaked his cheeks now, the way his jaw clamped tight.
With hands in the dirt and grass behind her, she watched his chest heave as he dragged in air. She shook her head. “I’ll see you soon.”
And she turned to leave, his broken “Carmen” hitting her square between the shoulder blades.
She only made it two steps before she froze, her eyes closed tight. He would run anyway. And then where would he be?
She’d promised him she’d never leave him alone again. And he, the boy with shattered promises at his feet, from a mother who didn’t know how to keep a single one, had believed her.
With regret in her chest that weighed her down too heavily to breathe, Carmen turned back, feet thudding against the grass with her steps, and took his outstretched hand. Their fingers laced together tight, and they walked away, step by step, from the school, away from any sense. The thought pounded in Carmen’s mind that maybe this had been what she was always going to do.
She was too selfish not to.
She could tell herself it was because she’d worry he’d run alone. Hell, it wasn’t even a worry; she knew he would. She could tell herself it was all for him.
But she’d be lying.
Chapter 7
For one night, Carmen pretended they could do it alone. They covered themselves in the sleeping bag Carmen had shoved in the bottom of her backpack and in turn covered themselves in the night; they were two kids who had faded into the nothingness of the street. For one night, Carmen pretended she could wrap an arm around her brother and wrap him in words that shielded him from the truth of it all.
It should have been easy, for one night, to block out the thumping of her heart that left her breathless, pumping in time to what did I do what did I do what the fuck did I fucking do?
But it wasn’t something that was so easy.
Mattie, his thick, black hair against her neck, molded against her like he had so many nights before. Trusting. She didn’t need to look at him to know his dark, quick eyes were staring around them. He smelled like the cheap shampoo from the group center, like a little kid who had spent his entire day at school.
He smelled like home.
He smelled like home and everything Carmen had missed last time. Now she had him here with her, and all she had for it was guilt tripping at her stomach and panic clambering its way up her spine.
He was so young.
“It’s pretty here.”
The urge to laugh at the ridiculous statement was almost overwhelming, but if she blocked out the dripping behind her and the smell, it almost could be called pretty. Under the bridge, the water in front of them was a deep pool of black, and if she tilted her head slightly,
the lights of the city reflected all along it. White and orange and blue rippled slightly and made it seem like reality were playing tricks as they skimmed along the surface.
So all Carmen did was hum, letting Mattie think she agreed.
“Is this where you were when you ran away last time?”
Carmen sighed, burrowing farther into the sleeping bag, the dripping of a leaking pipe behind her keeping pace with the beat of her heart, a drum to keep time to the still-repeated thought: what did I do what did I do?
“Some of the time.” Not all of it. Most had been spent elsewhere, somewhere Carmen was beginning to think they’d have to go back to.
The feeling made her heart speed up even faster. Going back there would be like accepting that this was their reality now, that this was Mattie’s life.
“I’m glad I’m with you this time.”
Carmen tucked him farther under her arm and said nothing. What the hell had she dragged her little brother into? But he would have run on his own. Carmen had seen it—it had been clear in the stubborn glint in his eye, the set of his jaw, the jut of his chin. A look she knew he had learned from her. A look that told her he meant it.
And what then?
Her brother wandering alone on the street, and hoping to run into Carmen by chance? This city was huge, a maze full of kids and adults. He was five years younger than Carmen was when she had done it, and she had been far too young for it then.
Everyone on the street was too young for it. Even the old generation: the vets, the discarded who lay out in cardboard boxes and tinkled like glass knocking against glass when they moved, their hair white and skin crinkled like fruit left in the sun.
No one was old enough to qualify for this life.
But her brother had already seen his mother pass out on a bathroom floor, experienced hunger rumbling in his belly, sat in darkness and shivered because bills had gone unpaid, and felt abandonment sink into his bones, deep enough to lay a map throughout his insides. Carmen could not have stomached seeing what the streets would do to him if he had run away alone.