After a long silence, he asks, “Where are your parents?”
I shrug.
“Where do you live?” he insists.
I shrug again.
Why does he even care? I wish he’d let me walk away. It’s not like I stole something from them. I wanted a nice warm place where I could sleep for the night. Just one night away from the humidity, the cold, and the uncertainty of tomorrow.
Mom hoped I’d become a lawyer. I’ll be lucky if I don't end up in jail for the rest of my life. Oh, irony, my eternal companion.
The woman walks outside the office. “They’re almost here.” She then looks at me. “When did you start living in foster care?”
How does she know? I shrug again.
She squats right in front of me, holding my hands. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
“Why would you care?” I groan.
No one ever cares about me. My case manager doesn’t care if I go to the doctor when I’m hurt or sick. She just moves me to the next place when I become an inconvenience.
“I’m sure your parents would want someone to look after you because they can’t,” she answers. “Let me help you.”
“No one can help me,” I mutter.
Her attention moves to the guy. “Would you mind bringing me a coffee?”
“I’d rather stay here.” His voice is gruff, commanding.
“He’s not going to attack me,” she states. “The kid is scared. Probably hungry. Why don’t you bring him a hot chocolate? There should be something to eat in the fridge. If not, check the snack box. I should have a granola bar for him.”
Kade leaves. The woman sits next to me.
“My name is Sadie. I own this flower shop. Kade is my husband. He might not look like it, but he’s friendly—and he’s worried about you. I think that’s why he insisted we drive to the shop instead of letting the police deal with you.”
“You knew?”
She points at a corner. That’s when I spot a small lens with a flashing red light on top. “We have cameras all over. When you triggered the alarm, he checked the CCTV system and spotted you right away. We’re the ones who locked the back door so you couldn’t escape.”
That explains why I couldn’t leave, but why do they care about me?
“Then you know I didn’t steal anything. Can I go now?”
“Before I opened this shop, I worked for child services. I was a social worker,” she ignores my request.
“That’s why you are not letting me go, because you’re calling them.”
“No. As I said, we want to help you,” she responds. “I understand that the system fails a lot of children. It’s not perfect. There’s a reason why I left that job. Still, during my time working with foster children and families, I helped a lot of kids like you.”
“Every place I go to is the same,” I say bitterly. “Whoever is in charge doesn’t give a fuck about me. They’re just waiting for a paycheck from the government.”
“Not everyone who fosters children is like that, but I agree that there are people who shouldn’t be approved as parents. Again, the system has cracks.”
“Then, let me go. I’m done with them. It’s easier to be on my own. I might just hitchhike to sunny Mexico.”
She chuckles. “Where are your parents?”
“They died. It’s been just me since the age of five.”
She takes my hands and squeezes them. “Have you been in the system since you were five?”
I nod in response.
“You didn’t feel safe in the last place you lived?”
I haven’t felt safe since Mom died.
She gives me a sad smile. “I might know of a place where you can live, but there’s a catch.”
“There’s always a catch,” I growl. “Not interested. If you let me go, you’ll never hear from me again.”
“Why don’t you listen to me first, and then if you feel like this isn’t for you, we can look for another alternative,” she says softly.
“Let me go. I promise I’ll never come back,” I plead.
“Your experience with other people has left you scarred. I understand your trepidation. The place where I want to send you is a center that shelters teenagers like you. Kids who don’t have any other place to go either because their parents kicked them out of their homes or the system failed them.”
Kade approaches us. He carries two mugs. He hands one to Sadie and the second to me. “It’s warm milk. I’ll bring you something to eat in a second.”
“You’re safe with us,” Sadie assures me, squeezing my hand. “Are you shaking because you’re still cold, or are you afraid?”
I stare at the mug I hold with both hands. She’s right; I’m trembling. Before I can think of an answer, Kade saunters back with a plate in hand.
“I found more than a granola bar,” he says, handing over a sandwich. “We have ham and cheese in the fridge. I can prepare more if you’re still hungry.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, taking a bite of the sandwich.
Once I finish it, Kade takes the plate. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t remember.”
Sadie bobs her head. Kade walks away while saying, “I’ll make a couple more.”
“Tristan should be here soon. He runs The Cooperson Youth Center,” Sadie explains. “You might like to live there. They have some requirements. It includes school attendance, keeping up your grades, and getting a job.”
“So, the state won’t pay for it, and I have to do it instead,” I state.
As if it’s so easy. If I could get a job, I wouldn’t have to go through restaurant trash cans, beg for money, or… I just want this to be over.
“No. The center is a private institution. They rely on charities and benefactors, like us,” Kade answers. “This is where you listen to my rules. My wife and I are going to sponsor you under one condition. You’ll go to counseling and you’ll graduate from high school.”
I look at him, confused. “Sponsor me?”
“Yes. They won’t have to wait for a spot to open or see if the budget can include an extra kid. You’re in because we’ll pay for it. Not only that, we will pay for your emancipation. We’ll hire a lawyer. Tristan and child services work together to ensure that teenagers like you are off the streets and taken care of at The Coop.”
Sadie snorts. “It’s not a coop. That’s the endearing name we use for the center. Some people call it ‘the shelter.’ It’s all the same. You’re going to like it.”
She doesn’t know me. I might hate it like I’ve hated every other place I’ve lived in.
“You’ll live in a place that you can call home for as long as you need it,” she says reassuringly.
I stare at them suspiciously. “This sounds too easy. I need to know what you want from me.”
“Who said it’s going to be easy? You get a bed, a roof, and food. In exchange, you’re going to have to work your ass off until you become a man who can take charge of his own life.”
“What kind of work? I’m not accepting any job just because you’re giving me a house.”