Family Ties (15 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

A week later, Nicole stops me outside my History classroom. “You’re through here, Sara.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know that by the time I’m done, no one will want to talk to you or be near you.”

“Awesome,” I say with a fake smile. “No one talks to me anyway.” Why am I standing here listening to her?

“Listen up, you man-stealing whore.” She pokes my shoulder. Must be her favorite gesture when she’s bitchy. “You’re going to break up with Jason.” She must drink the same Kool-Aid as Becky. The crazy kind.

“
You
listen up.” The first confrontation with her was enough for me to be sick of her already. The rage and bitterness I carry inside doesn’t help either. I dig my finger into her shoulder. “Jason didn’t
want
to be with her. You think your threats scare me? Just try to do your worst. It won’t fucking touch what I’ve already been through. Not even close.” I give a little push before lowering my hand.

She sneers with a glint of trouble in her eyes. “And Becky said you weren’t a fighter.”

“Yeah, well, Becky doesn’t know me and she hasn’t talked to me since Jason broke up with her.”

She sets her hands on her waist. “After you
stole
him.”

“Are you delusional? How can I steal him if we didn’t date until a year later?”

“You wanted him and didn’t want anyone else to have him.”

I can’t argue with that because of the kernel of truth lying in there. I wanted him, but I never asked him to break up with her. 

“Dump Jason or life here will be miserable for you.”

I can’t change what Jason did or that I’m in Foster Hell right now. But I can get away from Nicole. “Guess what? It already is. And you already said I was through here.” I brush past her and take my seat inside.

I hate Nicole.

I hate Becky.

I hate this fucking school.

I’m sitting across from Irving in his office, gritting my teeth and glaring at him.

“Sara, the only problem is you,” he tells me, as if it were a simple fact I missed all along. 

I grip the sides of my chair to keep from jumping up and hitting him. “No. The problem is
you
. You and everyone else keeping me with the Lloyds.” I want out of here so bad. I want out of the nightmare Gillian threw me in. I want my life with the Jerichos back.

“No one is keeping you with them.” He pushes his glasses up by the nose piece and taps his pen on his legal pad.

“That’s fucking bullshit and you know it.”

His head tips down and he peers over his glasses. “Language, Sara.”

“Fuck you, Irving. I have every right to express my anger and I’m not hurting anyone doing it.” I stare, silently daring him to tell me I’m wrong.

He gazes at me, as if giving my words consideration. “There are better ways of expressing your anger.”

“And you’re just the person to teach me the many coping skills? It’s been four weeks. Shouldn’t we have started with that in the first session?” Baiting him is satisfying, even if the only thing I accomplish is making myself feel better about this mess for a few seconds.

He pinches the bridge of the nose just above his glasses and his brow wrinkles. I hope I’m giving him the migraine of a lifetime. He flattens his hands on his legal pad. “You’ve made it painfully obvious you don’t want to engage in the therapeutic process, so why should I bother?”

I lean forward. “I want to engage, just not with you. I want Sam back.”

He sighs. “We’ve been through this. You can’t see Sam.”

“I can’t see Sam. I can’t talk to the Jerichos. I can’t talk to Jason. What do I have left, Irving?”

“You have me, the Lloyds, your foster siblings, and Blake.”

I shudder at the thought that he, Blake, or my foster parents could ever be supportive. “You. Don’t. Get. It.”

“Explain it to me.”

“Everything was taken from me.” I count out on my fingers as I list things off. “My boyfriend. My best friend. My guardians. My home. My school. My therapist. Do you know what that feels like? Do you?”

“I can imagine.”

“I didn’t ask if you could imagine.” I know he’s trying to empathize to defuse my rage. It’s not going to work. “I asked if you know what it feels like.”

His lips purse together. “No.”

“Then how do you know what way is better, more appropriate, to express my anger over being kept from everyone and everything that matters to me? Because right now, I think I’m doing a damn good job of keeping it together.”

“You’re alienating everyone. That’s not keeping it together.”

“Alienating everyone keeping me from the people I love.” I rise and head for the door.

“We’re not done yet, Sara.”

“
I’m
done,” I say without looking back. They might not let me see Sam, but they can’t make me talk to Irving. I can sit in silence for hours at a time. One hour a week in his office will be a snap.

“What are you doing down here so early?” Terry asks when I join her in the waiting room.

“I walked out.” No need to lie. Irving will tell her what happened anyway.

She points to the door leading to the offices. “Get back in there.”

I flop into the chair opposite her and fold my arms over my chest. “No. I refuse talk to him anymore today.”

“Stop being oppositional and get back in Irving’s office.”

“Your fancy therapy vocabulary isn’t going to work.”

“This isn’t a negotiation, Sara.”

I lean towards her and narrow my eyes. “You’re right. It’s not. I won’t go back and you can’t make me.”

I probably seem petulant to a casual observer, but a casual observer doesn’t know what I’ve been through. I spent most of my life abused, neglected, and isolated. For a brief moment, I had safety, hope, and love. Now it’s gone.

Her face creases into angry lines. The same angry lines my father showed me right before a beating. She probably wants to hit me. I would probably want to hit me if I were in her shoes. But I’m not. I’m in
my
shoes, and from where I sit, I have nothing left to lose. They can’t do anything to me that hasn’t already been done before.

She snatches her purse from the seat next to her and gets up with that look stuck on her face. I follow her out without a word.

I won this round.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The walk to and from La Costa High is long and I’m famished when I walk through the door. I rummage through the fruit in the refrigerator for something to quiet my stomach.

“What are you doing?” Terry asks, glowering.

I remove an apple. “Getting some fruit.” I hold the apple aloft to show her.

“Put it back.”

“But I’m hungry.”

“You can wait until dinner.”

“No, I can’t. I’m hungry
now
.” My stomach rumbles its confirmation.

“You didn’t have permission. Now put it back.”

I huff. “May I please have an apple?”

It’s ridiculous to ask for food when I didn’t have to ask for it from the man who beat me. He may have delayed access as part of my punishment, but I
never
had to ask for food.

“No.”

I slam the apple on the counter and then storm off to my room. I empty my backpack, tossing my books all over the cheap pink comforter covering my bed. Maybe homework will distract me from my grumbling stomach.

Terry barges in without knocking while I work on a chemistry problem. The Lloyds think we don’t deserve the courtesy of a knock because we are in
their
home.

“You have a phone call,” she says, tossing the cordless phone next to me. “Bring it out when you’re done.”

As far as I know, no one has called me before.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Sara,” an unfamiliar, soothing male voice says. “My name is Len Jefferson. I am the assistant district attorney working on the case against your parents.”

I straighten at the news. “Are they finally going to trial?”

“This summer,” he answers. “I would like to meet with you tomorrow after school, if that’s possible.”

“Okay.”

I let Terry know about the appointment tomorrow when I return the phone to its proper place in the living room.

“You’ll have to reschedule. Krista, Cal, and Nick have therapy tomorrow and I can’t leave you alone with a stranger.”

“I’m seventeen!” I leave out the fact that I live with strangers.

“With your history—”

Where does she get off? They might have their own children and grandchildren, but they are just as bad as my parents in my eyes. “
My
history? I didn’t do a damn thing! It was my parents and all you want to do is punish me for what
they
did!”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Sara.”

“Then how about you treat us with some respect? We’re human beings, Terry.” I swipe the phone off the cradle.

“Put it back,” she demands, as if we are starting the apple fight all over again.

“Do you want me to reschedule my appointment or not?” Times like this make me question her intelligence.

“You have two minutes.”

I dial the number Len gave me on the way back to my room. He answers as I shut the door and I explain the problem with him meeting me after school. He agrees to see me at school and pull me out of class. I return the phone and refuse to look at Terry. I won’t let her win.

I won’t let any of them win.

The blond man sitting across from me in the school’s conference room is not what I expect. A navy blue suit and white shirt with blue pinstripes hugs his body as a burgundy silk tie gleams in the fluorescent lighting. One leg is crossed over the other with a leather-bound planner on them and his hands folded on top. His green-gray eyes are intent as he listens to my complaints about Blake, the Lloyds, and the state taking me from the Jerichos.

“The state’s job is to keep you safe. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do,” he states.

“Thank you,” I say, relieved someone is listening instead of shutting me down.

“Now, about your parents. I know the abuse you endured was traumatic. Being questioned about it in a room full of strangers can be more so.”

“Will they be convicted if I don’t testify?”

He nods once. “Chances are good they will. The chances increase if you do. The jury will hear your story in your own words and
that
goes a long way in a trial such as this.”

I inhale deeply and blow it out slow like Sam taught me. The possibility of my parents behind bars is real now, no longer the abstract thought hanging around the periphery.

“You don’t have to decide today.”

I already know. I knew when I threatened to call the police if Father tried to rape me again, even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it until now. “I want to testify.”

A broad smile spreads across his face. “You are a courageous young woman.”

I smile for the first time in two months. “I’m learning.”

I pick up the phone after Len leaves, watching the doorway. The voice mail message plays. 

“J, I just met with the assistant district attorney. My parents are going to trial and I’m going to testify. I’ve got to go, someone’s coming.”

Terry is pacing the living room when I arrive home. “Who were you on the phone with today?” Her tone is reminiscent of my parents.

I stand tall, refusing to let her intimidate me. “I left Jason a voice mail.”

“You think that boy is waiting for you? We told you he’s moved on to the next hussy.”

I clench my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms. My blood rages and begs for a physical release. Instead, I open and close my fists repeatedly.

“Who did you seee?” she asks.

“I met with the assistant district attorney since you wouldn’t let me meet with him after school.”

She purses her lips. “You let a stranger pull you out of class?”

“I live with strangers! What’s the difference?”

She shakes a finger at me with her other hand on her hip. “I’ve had enough of that attitude.”

“I’ve had enough of
your
attitude,” I return with a scowl. 

She snatches the phone from the cradle and stabs the keypad with her finger. I cross my arms in defiance, watching her through narrowed eyes.

“Hello, Blake?…Yes, it’s Terry Lloyd.” She eyes me. “We need you to find another home for Sara.”

“How about returning me to the Jerichos!” I shout for Blake’s benefit.

“She’s nothing but combative as always and she called that
boy
from school today…Please do.” She hangs up and glares at me. “He can’t find a new home fast enough.”

“Amen,” I say, marching to my room in a huff.

It’s appalling that the Lloyds are “trained” and “approved” by the state to take kids in for foster care. It makes me wonder about the training and approval standards. Right now, my parents and sister are preferable to Foster Hell. At least I know what to expect from my family.

Instead, I’m stuck with strangers who are supposed to care for me, but care nothing for me.