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Ava

“Sara, why do you think Coulter yelled at you last night?” I pressed the pen to paper and looked calmly at the girl, keeping my expression neutral as I waited for her to respond. Facial expressions with these kids were crucial—they could read a person’s face quicker than you could even decide how you were feeling. I learned that the hard way many years ago when some girl thought I was smirking at her and threw a glass fishbowl at me … fish and all. Of course, I hadn’t been smirking at her, but I’d learned to keep a straight face.

“Because he’s a fucking douche,” Sara said. She looked over at the other kid, Coulter, and snarled at him like an angry animal. I took a deep breath and turned to face Coulter.

“What’s your side of the story?”

“Sara keeps sneaking in past curfew,” he snapped, glowering at the girl. “Someone had to say something, but she kept convincing us not to. Last night I just lost it on her, and she deserved it. I regret nothing!”

“Sara,” I said, turning back to the second sullen teenager. “Why have you been out past curfew? You know the rules.”

“Because I have shit to do,” she said. I watched her tug impatiently at the earring in her lobe, looking bored, but I knew it was just a facade. These kids were rarely bored. Most of the time, they were scared shitless, but they’d die before they ever let down their wall.

“The rule is that you must meet curfew unless you’ve made arrangements with the staff, which is then documented in the book. Did you make arrangements?”

“No,” Sara said. “Because it’s nobody’s fuckin’ business.”

“She shouldn’t be here,” Coulter added. “The rest of us are obeying the rules; she shouldn’t be able to keep getting away with breaking them.”

“Shut up, faggot!”

I held up one hand, silencing them both.

“Coulter, could you give us a minute?” I asked, flashing him an encouraging smile. The blond boy rolled his eyes, but he walked out and closed the door behind him, much harder than necessary. I raised a finger to my temple and rubbed it, hoping that the splitting headache would ease up. The champagne hangover from last night was pretty bad, but it could have been worse.

“He’s lying, you know,” Sara said. A slight scowl frosted her features. She always had some kind of angry expression on her face, so that was nothing new. “He just wants me kicked out because he doesn’t like me.”

“Sara,” I said steadily. “He’s right—this is the fourth incident report we have on you. I don’t want to kick you out. You know I don’t, but you must obey the rules if you want to stay here.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to fucking stay here.” She folded her arms and glowered at the paint-peeling, yellow walls. I made a mental note to buy some new paint for the rooms, even if it had to come out of my pocket. It was probably just as bad for them as it was depressing for me. This was supposed to be the closest thing to a home that many of these kids had. “It’s a bullshit place, anyway.”

“Are you trying to tell me that the street is a better alternative?” I already knew what she would say to this, but I asked it anyway, hoping she’d see that I was only trying to help.

“Maybe I am saying that.” Sara met my eyes, still glowering, sizing me up. I could tell she was preparing for a fight.

I nodded and cleared my throat before leaning forward, closing the small space between us. Sara’s head tilted back, but only an inch or so. She didn’t back down.

“You’re not a hostage here,” I reminded her. “You’re free to leave if you would like, but I promise you—living on the street is not all it’s hyped up to be.”

“Yeah, like your rich-bitch ass would know.” Sara launched to her feet, practically fuming. “I’m out of here.”

“Sara, wait—” Before I could say anything else, she stormed out of the room, shoving Coulter aside before turning around, flipping us two middle fingers, and vanishing out the front door.

“What the hell was that?” Coulter asked, a concerned frown etching his features. Coulter was a good kid, one of our more sensitive residents. He was often picked on for wanting to avoid drama at all costs.

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “Go have lunch.” I up and tossed the clipboard aside with a shake of my head, kneading a kink from my neck. I was glad when he didn’t argue; I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. Sandy, who had been watching the whole thing from a desk in the corner of the room, joined me where I stood, shaking her head.

“Do you think Sara is back on something?” she asked. “She only gets wild like that when she’s popping pills.”

“I wish I knew.” I rubbed a hand over my face and sighed. Sandy was right; Sara’s past with drugs was something we were trying to keep a close eye on, but we couldn’t do it every waking moment.

“Should we call the cops?” Sandy asked, tapping the bottom of a pen against her lower lip.

“Not yet.” I knew I was breaking protocol by not calling the police for an “out of control minor,” but I couldn’t bring myself to drag her down. She hadn’t damaged anything in the facility, and she technically wasn’t required to stay here. I just hoped she’d come back herself before she got hurt. Or worse, killed. It had happened before. “Just let her go, give her a breather, and I’ll see what I can do when she comes back.”

“You think she’ll come back?” Sandy looked as doubtful as I felt, but I had no answer that either of us wanted to hear. Instead, I sighed and shrugged one shoulder, so emotionally exhausted and worn out that I could barely stand.

“Sometimes they do, don’t they? We’re all they have.”

I had a few more counseling sessions that day, and fortunately, none were as shitty as the one I’d had with Sara. My day went from a disaster to not so bad, and I was about to clock out to go home after dinner when Katie stopped by my little makeshift office in the far corner of the house.

“I heard you had a runner this morning,” she said, leaning against the door frame. She wore a red blouse and a black skirt, professional and sultry at the same time, but I didn’t let her nice, innocent outfit throw me off. Katie was vicious when she wanted to be, and she seemed to want to be more often than not. She was a good boss but very in-your-face when she wanted to be.

“She didn’t run as much as she stormed out.” I crossed my hands over my stomach and looked straight at her, feeling the twinge of an oncoming headache. It had eased up briefly, but now it was back. Katie had that effect on all of us. “Does that count for something?”

“You know the protocol is to call the police in that situation.”

I nodded and squeezed the arch of my nose, warding off what I could tell would be a full-blown migraine. Seeing my impatience, Katie sighed. Loudly.

“Listen, Ava; I know Sara is your favorite—”

“She’s not my favorite, okay?” I said sharply. “I do not have favorites. However, I do know she’s struggling, and calling the cops on her won’t make the situation better … for any of us. And you know it.”

“I hope you’re right.” She shook her head at me, pursing her lips. “The last thing we need is a complaint filed against our little home here. Sometimes you have to put your logic before your emotions, you know?”

“Yeah, boss, I know.”

“Good.”

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