by Barnes, Vivi
I thread my fingers through hers, tenting our hands over my stomach. Anyone who cared about her would call the police. But it would alert them to Monroe Street. “That’s just it. We can’t. They wouldn’t believe you, anyway, and besides…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I mumble. “It’s complicated.”
“Too bad we can’t just put him on the sex offender registry ourselves,” she says. “That way he wouldn’t be able to mess with any other kid’s life.”
I flip on my side to face her, almost laughing out loud. “That’s perfect.”
“What?”
“Putting him on the registry. We have a contact—a detective at the station who can help me hack in.”
“Not you. Me,” she says firmly.
“You?”
“Yeah. Like I said, this is my problem, not yours. I want to do it.”
I smile. She’s not incapable of action after all. She’s pretty kick-ass. “Tonight, then.”
…
Liv
The longer I stay here, resting in Z’s arms, the calmer I feel. Now that we have a plan, and now that I’m more confident he’s not going to go all berserk on Derrick, I can start to push the bad memories to the recesses of my mind. Z cares for me, for real. And I’m falling so hard for him. There’s only a thin, fragile wall left to protect my heart, and the thought is frightening.
We stay in his room for another hour, holding each other and talking very little, until a voice outside the door announces that it’s time for dinner. Dinner in the new house and a chance to meet the other kids. I don’t want them to know what happened, but judging by the sympathetic looks everyone keeps throwing, they already know. It’s uncomfortable at first, but it’s not long before I’m treated as another member of the house.
There are about fifteen kids or so, anywhere from middle to high school. Some I’ve already met. Little Dutch is there, immediately finding Z and sticking to him like glue. He hangs on every word Z says.
I met Cameron the first time I visited the house. He makes a pretty distinct impression, since he’s about six feet tall and built like a defensive lineman. He’s soft-spoken and super nice, though, smiling at me and asking how I’m doing. He stands to pull out Sam’s chair for her when she arrives at the table. Sam smiles at him as she does everyone else, but by the wistful way Cameron looks at her, I’d say he likes her more than a little.
Most of the kids’ names blur—they’re friendly, but it’ll be hard to remember who’s who. With the exception of Micah, who totally cracks me up doing impressions and poking fun at everyone. He’s so hyper that every once in a while he jumps to his feet to talk.
Another who stands out is Jen, for a much different reason. I can almost feel the daggers cutting into my face, the way she glares at me from her seat farther down the table. The same glare she gave when she saw me holding Z’s hand the last time I was here.
I lean over and whisper to Sam. “What’s with her?”
She smirks and puts her hand up to cover her mouth. “She was in love with Z. Big-time. They always fall for him. Like you did.”
She winks at me and turns to talk to someone else, but her words reverberate through my head for the entire meal. They always fall for him.
Like you did.
Throughout dinner, I sneak glances at Jen. She looks over at Z a lot, sometimes angry, sometimes longing. The fact that he might’ve used and dumped her makes me see him in a new light, and a part of me I can’t seem to ignore worries that he’ll do the same to me. When he catches me watching him, he smiles and takes my hand, kissing my fingers.
After dinner, everyone splits to do his or her own thing; some hang out in the living room to watch TV, some go back to their rooms, and a couple of the older ones decide to go out for the night. I want to talk to Z, but Nancy approaches us before I can manage to get him alone.
“Olivia, I’ve got a room ready for you for tonight, and for as long as you’d like,” Nancy says. She turns to Z. “Bill will need to know she’s here now.”
His hand clenches around mine and his jaw tightens. “No, he doesn’t. Not yet.”
She shakes her head. “You know that’s not a smart idea. You can’t keep this from him.”
He doesn’t respond. She sighs and looks at me. “Come, Olivia. Let me show you where your room is.”
I nod and follow her, knowing I should care more about Bill finding out I’m here. But now I’m worried about something else: Derrick and Denise. I hope like hell they don’t report me missing. I almost don’t care what Z and Sam are up to right now and why it’s a big deal if Bill finds out I’m here. The sound of the rain beating against the windows reinforces my need to feel safe. Protected. At least for a little while.
Nancy and Sam walk me upstairs and turn down the hallway opposite of Z’s. “This is the girls’ wing. The younger girls share a room; the older ones get their own. You’re right next door to Sam, and she can help you settle in.” She opens the door to reveal a lovely decorated room, painted a soft, creamy white. Graceful ballerinas moving through large black-and-white framed paintings hang over the bed and desk. The twin bed is covered with a light-pink comforter. “Feel free to personalize the room however you’d like.”
The way she says that makes me think she’s planning for me to stay forever. Considering the illegal operation of the house, I’m not sure how I feel about that. But this is my only option right now, so I step inside. “It’s beautiful, thank you.”
Nancy beams. “Of course. Let Sam or me know if there’s anything you need. Toothbrush, hair dryer, whatever. We don’t have many house rules. There’s no curfew, you’re free to come and go whenever you’d like, do whatever you’d like. The only thing we insist is that you do well in school and manage your share around the house, including some things that Z or Sam will show you. That’s it. Sound good?”
“Sure. Thanks, Nancy. I don’t know what I’d do if…”
She saves me the trouble of finding the words by giving me a warm hug. “You’re part of our family now.” She turns to leave, Sam following.
“Hey, wait a second, Sam.” As soon as Nancy is gone, I pull Sam back into the room. “I don’t have any of my things, my clothes, personal stuff. My laptop is back at the house, too. Inside the bedspread. I can’t go back, and there’s no way I’m sending Z. Do you think…?” I look down, embarrassed that I have to ask such a huge favor.
“Of course,” she says. “Leave it to me. I’ll take care of it.”
I exhale and smile. “Thanks.”
She gives me a hug. “I’m glad you’re here. I mean, I hate what happened to you. But it’s good we could bring you here. You’re safe now.”
“Thanks. I’m glad I’m here, too.”
She smiles at me, and I follow her out of the room and down the stairs. She grabs a confused Cameron at the bottom and drags him with her, saluting me before pulling the heavy door shut.
“What was that about?” Z asks, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Nancy showed me my room. It’s nice.”
“Mmm…” He nuzzles into my hair. “Maybe you should give me a tour.”
His voice is sultry, sexy. Too sexy. I stiffen and pull away without thinking. He raises an eyebrow, but his arms loosen around me. I try to cover with a laugh that ends up sounding more like a choke.
“You understand there are no expectations here, right?” he asks softly, caressing my cheek. “None at all.”
I nod and lean forward until my head is against his chest. Why did I react like that, pulling away from him? I trust him. But it’s only been a day since… So maybe it’s to be expected. Hopefully.
…
Z
Liv and I stare at the TV without really watching it, waiting for Sam and Cameron to return with her stuff. Liv’s eyes flick to the door often. I guess I know why she sent them to get her things instead of me, though it’s frustrating that she didn’t even tell me. Of course,
I might’ve figured out a way to go along, just in case I could run into Derrick by “accident.”
She glances at me. “You know Derrick will be looking for me. Even with what we’re going to do, do you think he’d figure out where I am? Alert the police?”
“I doubt it,” I tell her. “And it doesn’t matter. As soon as he goes to the cops, they’re going to see his record and then his ass will be in serious shit.”
She smiles and leans back, then sits up again, frowning. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. I keep hearing things I don’t really get.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like Jen, for one. She’s in love with you?”
Of course, it’s at that moment Jen walks in, making a sharp U-turn when she sees us on the couch. Liv glances at my face, her expression tight. Oh, wonderful fun this is going to be—once again, the ex jealous of my new relationship. I wish Jen would find someone else, like Cameron. Cameron would be perfect—he’s the type who’d be completely devoted to his girlfriend. If he weren’t so into Sam, who doesn’t give him the time of day.
Sam and Cameron soon return with Liv’s stuff. She jumps up to meet them, thanking them over and over.
“Hey, it was kind of fun,” Sam says, handing a laptop bag to Liv. “I haven’t done that kind of break-in in a while. Cam’s the best at it. The window was locked, so I guess they shut it after you left. He broke the lock and we sneaked in to get everything. I wanted to go find the jerk and kick his ass, but Cam held me back. That’s the only part that sucked. I was looking forward to it.”
Liv frowns at me as if she can read my mind. Oh, yeah, I would look forward to it, too, if she didn’t have such a hang-up about violence. Passive-aggressive is not my thing.
The darkened house is quiet at this hour, and most of the kids are asleep. After a brief introduction, Liv has done most of the talking with Jim Rush, our contact at the police station. Bill would be pissed if he knew I had contacted Jim, as he’s the only one who’s allowed to, supposedly. But Jim’s cool, and I’m grateful that he agreed to keep this to himself.
Jim gives her the address and password so we can hack in through our proxy sites without anyone tracking us. She uploads a picture she grabbed from his Facebook page, reworked in Photoshop to Jim’s approval, and makes up names and incidents. I watch her as she works, fascinated that she’s so focused. For as much as she didn’t want me to hurt the guy, she sure is set on screwing up his life.
It was almost too easy. Liv leans over to touch the monitor and select the pen, using a finger to draw a red X over his disgusting face. I click refresh, keeping my eyes fixed on the second monitor, until his name pops up on the registry. Perfect.
She leans back against me and sighs. “Done.”
Good luck with that, Derrick Carter.
Chapter Eighteen
Oliver: Dodger, it’s not a game anymore.
The Artful Dodger: [sadly] It never was a game, mate. You just thought it was.
—a film adaptation of Oliver Twist
Liv
My new room is comfortable, spacious, and way too quiet. I toss and turn for a few hours, my mind fighting a whirlwind of images I’d rather bury. I finally sit up in the darkness and swing my legs to the side of the bed. I know where I want to be, but what will he say? And will he take it the wrong way? He promised there are no expectations.
I decide to take my chances and tiptoe through the dark and silent hallways.
I slowly turn the knob and slide into Z’s room, closing the door softly behind me. He’s asleep, his profile serene in the quiet moonlight. His blanket is on the floor, and my face burns as I realize he’s wearing boxers and nothing else. I watch his bare chest rise and fall evenly, all the while knowing I should go back to my room and not wake him, but my body moves forward almost of its own accord and slides into the twin bed with him. I wrap an arm around his waist and press my cheek against his arm. He startles awake, then relaxes when he sees me. His arm curves around me and I snuggle into him, warm and comfortable, his lips against my hair. Remembering the blanket, I reach down to the floor and snatch it up to drape it across us.
I don’t dream at all. Z’s presence keeps all the nightmares away.
The sun streaming through the window awakens me in the morning to a lonely bed. Z is sitting in his desk chair, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and watching me.
“Hey.” I smile shyly and pull the blanket up to my chin, which is probably silly, since I’m wearing a cami and shorts. “You’re up early.”
He laughs. “Not really. Do you usually sleep past nine?”
I jerk upward. “Nine? No way.”
He moves over to the bed and kisses my forehead. “You can sleep as late as you want. Doesn’t bother me at all.”
“But we’re missing school.”
“Do you really want to go?” he asks, his expression amused.
“Well, no, I guess not.” I look down. “I hope you didn’t mind my sneaking in here last night. I had a hard time going to sleep.”
“Are you kidding? It was nice having you next to me. Tempting, but nice.”
Heat rises to my face, my expression making him laugh. “So what do you want to do today?” he asks. “The waterfall? Or maybe you want to stay here and rest?”
“No, the waterfall is perfect.” I head to my room to change as Z goes downstairs to pack a few snacks. The house is quiet, since the others are in school. I wonder what Nancy does during the day.
“Sleep well?”
I almost trip over my feet. Jen is standing in her doorway with her arms crossed. I try to recover and act casual. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“Aren’t you?” she asks, her lips pinched in a sneer. She glances over toward the boys’ wing, her eyes narrowed. “He’s using you. I hope you realize that.”
“Whatever.” I start toward my room again but she steps in front of me, blocking my path. I step back automatically, wondering if this is the part where the ex-girlfriend tries to kick my ass and wishing I knew karate or something useful.
“Relax,” she says, holding up her hands. “I’m not going to fight with you. But if you’re going to live here, there are some things you should know.”
“Okay, fine. What things?” I don’t try to keep the exasperation out of my voice. She may not want to fight me, but I know this is definitely the part where she’s going to say something to try to split up Z and me.
“How much has Z told you about why you’re here?”
Why I’m here? “Everything,” I lie.
She shakes her head. “Everything meaning nothing, right? He’s trying to bring you in quietly, just like he did me. And then you’re here and you get stuck in their game. And you can never leave because you’re too involved.”
I don’t even try to make sense of whatever she’s saying. I attempt to sidestep her but she moves with me. “Did you know Z knew everything about you from the very beginning?” she asks. “Probably before he even spoke to you.”
Now I laugh. “You have the wrong story, Jen. I met him at school.”
“Yeah, but he’s had all the details on your past for a long time. I know that for a fact.”
“Okay, so how?”
She smiles a secret kind of smile. She’s baiting me, but I hate to admit I’m curious. Even more, I’m worried. She looks too confident.
“Why don’t you, ah, change first.” She looks at my pajamas, her mouth twisted in contempt. “Meet me in the office downstairs in two minutes and I’ll show you the file they have on you.”
She flips her hair around as she saunters down the stairs. I turn toward my room and shut the door behind me, my heartbeat picking up speed. They have a file on me?
I change quickly and head downstairs to the office. Jen is already seated at one of the computers, her hand poised over the mouse. I move to her side and watch as she opens a strange database and clicks a file called “Olivia Westfield.” Just the sight of my name makes my breath catch.
She leans forward to read from the monitor. “Julia Winters, age fifty-seven. Caseworker. Current foster parents: Denise Carter, née Anderson, age forty-three. Previously married to Alejandro Santos, one daughter, deceased. Derrick Carter, age forty-three, no children—”
“That’s no secret,” I interrupt her. “Anyone can get this information.”
“You mean all of this?” She leans back in the chair so I can have a closer look. Listed are my previous foster home addresses and Julia’s information, plus Derrick and Denise are listed with their pictures and occupations. Basic information.
The next entry makes my heart stop. My mother’s name, along with a picture.
What the…
I grow cold as my eyes sift through the data. My history with my past foster care is listed. Along with the reasons I was pulled from each home. Including…
Jen recites it aloud as my eyes fix on one section. “Incidents requiring removal from home: age ten, physical neglect—failure to provide adequate clothing and shelter. Age twelve, sexual abuse—offender Frank—”
“Shut up,” I say, my voice no higher than a whisper. I’m frozen in place. This information was here the whole time? Z knew everything? This whole time, he’s known? I can feel the heat rushing through my body, warming my cheeks, numbing my arms, my legs.
“So you see how it is,” she continues. “He’s a recruiter. Goes after the sweet foster girl to bring her into our world. He’s good at his job, I’ll say that much for him.” She stands and places her hand on my shoulder, as if in sympathy. I can’t even move to brush it away. “He’s playing you, Liv. Like he played me.”
“No.” I can almost feel Z’s arms around me, holding me after Derrick’s attack. She’s got it wrong. I don’t know why he has all this information, but it doesn’t mean he’s using me.
“Z’s a jerk of the worst kind. Has he told you his real name?” She nods when I don’t respond. “Exactly. He won’t tell anyone. I don’t even think Nancy knows. And he has no file here, so nobody knows anything about him.” She backs away toward the door, eyes still on me. “You’re just another one of his projects. Don’t trust him. You’ll thank me later—I wish someone had clued me in.”