In the morning I wake from a troubled sleep to find myself in the closet-sized room at the group home. Shit. So it wasn't a horrible dream. I've lost Pixie and now I'm either dead at the hands of one of Ray's henchmen or destined for prison. I'll never see Pixie or Rory again. The hopeless thoughts throb in my head until I have to press my fists into my eyes to make them stop. 

No time to cry. Mourning is a luxury. Make a plan. Survive, survive, survive. 

The familiar thought gets me up and moving. My first priority is finding a phone so I can call Rory and see if she knows some way of getting me out or getting Pixie back. I saw a common area near the entrance when they brought me in last night, so that's where I head first. The room is furnished with two lumpy couches, three beanbag chairs and a TV. A social worker or counselor is sitting at a round wooden table off to the side, and I ask her if I can use the phone I see hanging on the wall next to the TV. It's one of those ancient ones with a spirally cord. 

"We allow calls in the evening between 5 and 9pm. You'll have to wait until then," she says snippily. Yeah, more like I'll wait until you leave.

I hang around the little table pretending to watch TV while she works on a laptop. After I've waited a few minutes hoping she'll take a bathroom break, I give up and start gravitating to the kitchen in search of food.

Most of everybody has gone off to school for the day, so the group home is quiet and feels deserted. It isn't that bad in the daylight. It's still depressing but no longer feels like a prison. I don't find the kitchen, so I go back to the common area to see if that lady is gone yet. Nope, she's still here and so is someone else. A different woman. Another social worker. I've seen enough of them to know them on sight. They're talking to each other in low tones, and the first lady nods at me and makes a come here motion.

As I walk over to where they're standing the new social worker turns to look at me, and without smiling says: "Austin Dolan."

It's the first time anyone has used my real name. Last night I was Evan Smith. That means the police have already pegged us.

"Where is my sister?" I ask.

"Emmie Dolan is in protective custody," she says. "We've been looking for you."

The woman who told me about the phone leaves with her laptop, and the social worker sits down in the vacant seat, putting her cheetah-print purse on the floor. She's holding this paper grocery bag on her lap. I can't help hoping it's food for me, but I doubt it.

"I'm Tia Everidge," she says. "Please, sit down."

She's a heavyset black woman with neon green nails and a bright blue shirt, which peeks out from underneath a black jacket. She holds out her hand, big gold rings on almost all of her fingers. I  don't take her hand. Instead I cross my arms over my chest and glare at her defiantly. They may have me trapped here for now, but I'm not gonna play the game.

Tia doesn't look ruffled by my rude greeting; I figure she must get that sort of thing a lot. I sit down across from her at the table. She reaches into her purse and takes out a notepad and a bunch of papers, which she stacks in front of her. Her eye-shadow is bright blue like her shirt, and she's wearing hot pink lipstick. Her hair falls in big barrel curls, stiff with product, over her shoulders and the top of her back.

"You look hungry," she says to me.

I shrug. I'm fucking starving, but she doesn't need to know that. The last time I ate was yesterday morning. The cops gave me a can of Sprite last night while I waited for a placement, but I was too stressed to drink much of it. There's been nothing in my stomach since.

Tia digs in her purse once again and this time pulls out a chocolate chip granola bar. I don't wanna take anything from this woman, but my stomach wins over my defiance. The granola bar is gone in seconds, and I lick my fingers after.

"I wanna see my sister. You can't keep her from me. We're blood relatives. I know how it works," I say after I've devoured the small bit of food.

Tia smiles a little. "So you should know that since her father is her legal guardian, she will be sent home."

"What about my mom? Where is my mom?" I ask nervously.

"We are trying to locate her. Are these your things?"

Tia reaches inside the grocery bag on her lap and passes me my backpack, which contains all my clothes, the iPad, and our money. I unzip it and quickly check to make sure everything is still there and breathe a sigh of relief when I realize it is. I've put the money in a sock and crammed it deep into the toe of my extra pair of sneakers. Thank God they didn't find it.

"And my van? I didn't steal it. I paid for it in cash, and it's my property. You people can't take it," I say.

"It's currently in impound. You can have it back once everything gets sorted out," Tia says.

I put my bag on my lap and wrap my arms around it. "Pix- I mean, my sister... she can't go home," I say.

Tia flips through her papers. "Your mother has custody of Emmie, but you are a ward of the state. Your current placement is with Mr. and Mrs. Holt from Noble, Oklahoma. Right?"

The Holts. The chicken farm people. I nod my head.

"You were getting along well there, according to these reports. Why did you run?"

"To save my sister."

Tia stares at me thoughtfully. "Save her from what, exactly?"

"I can't say," I mumble, staring down at the granola bar wrapper, which is dotted with sticky crumbs on the inside. I'm not too embarrassed to pick them off and lick them from my fingers. As I do, Tia just watches me.

"Why? Did someone threaten you?" she asks.

"They didn't need to threaten me. I know what will happen," I say.

"Austin, if you don't work with me I can't work with you," Tia says, leaning in close.

I cross my arms over my chest and keep my mouth shut. I'm not gonna say a word. Tia must sense this, because she doesn't pause to give me time to answer before she continues.

"And believe me, honey, you need somebody on your side because you're in a world of trouble. I'm willing to be that somebody, but I need you to start talking. The cops and the courts are about to eat you alive, and you won't ever see your sister again. I'm your caseworker. I work for you. Do you understand that?"

"I already have a fucking caseworker in Oklahoma!" I snap.

"Your case has been reassigned to me. I'm the only friend you've got now."

I glare at her. "You're not my friend. You're a social worker."

Tia shrugs. "Alright, boy... if that's how it's gon' be..."

She starts to stand up, gathering her purse and notes.

"Wait, where are you going?" I ask.

"Well since you won't work with me, I'm going back to my office so I can get some actual work done. I'll enter my notes, eat my breakfast, drink my third cup of coffee, and send everything off to the courts. You'll be in their hands soon enough."

"And my sister?"

"Your sister, if she's not already, will soon be on her way back to her father's house. She's no longer your concern."

My heart races at the thought. "Okay, just hold on. I'll work with you."

Tia smirks and sits back down. She knows exactly what she's doing, and that pisses me off.

"Your sister is your button huh? Everybody's got a button. You just gotta know which one to press," she says quietly.

"I'm as good as dead as soon as I tell you all this, so you gotta make a deal with me. I tell you, you save my sister. And you actually save her. You don't dump her in some shitty group home like this or into any foster placement in the system that has an open bed. I want you to personally make sure she's got the best people: normal, stable, a mom and a dad, nice, enough money, a clean house, everything. Alright?"

"I can do that," Tia says, looking me right in the eye. "Now tell me who's convinced you that you're as good as dead if you talk."

-----------------

It takes me an hour to spill my entire life story to Tia, who listens without making comments, her face neutral. She makes notes as I talk, and by the time I'm finished the page she's writing on is covered in blue scribbly handwriting.

After telling Tia my story, I'm exhausted. It's the first time I've ever had to trust anyone in authority, and that terrifies me. In my experience social workers, cops, and the entire DCF department are worthless at best and dangerous at worst. I died a slow death with Ray for eleven years, and no one ever bothered to notice or rescue me. And when they did take me, it was over something as stupid as Mom's meth habit, one detail of my existence that I could actually live with. Fuck social workers. Fuck the system. It failed me so spectacularly I don't even have words for it. 

I don't hate Tia Everidge, but I hate who she works for and what she stands for. And yet... I have no choice but to trust her. I have no choice but to go through the system, because on the other side of it is Pixie, and she needs me.

After hearing our story, Tia assures me that Pixie's case will be looked into immediately.

"Looked into!" I shout, my voice rising in disbelief. "I don't want it looked into! I want her OUT! I want her back!"

"I understand that, Austin, but there are procedures to follow, a process. We can't just go take someone's child away based on nothing but an accusation. If it's found that your story is true, this Ray will spend the rest of his life behind bars, and your sister will be safe forever."

"But she's not safe RIGHT NOW!" I shout, my hands clenching into fists.

"As soon as I get back to the office I'll have someone look into her case within the hour. I promise, Austin. She won't be left anywhere she's not safe."

I lean back in my chair, scoffing. "Whatever. Ray's gonna have me shot any day now! I'm as good as dead, and you promised to save her! I knew I couldn't trust you!"

"I am the only person you can trust right now," Tia says calmly. "I will help your sister, and no one is going to hurt you. You're safe now, Austin."

"Bullshit. I've never been safe," I say, standing up and shoving my chair under the table.

I shoulder my backpack, and as I turn to leave Tia calls to me. I stop, breathing hard through my anger and look over my shoulder.

"I'll be back soon, boy. Eat. Sleep. They'll be getting you enrolled in the high school today, so take advantage of your free time while you can," she says, and she tosses me a second granola bar, which I catch with one hand.

"I'm not gonna be here long," I say.

Tia nods and actually cracks a smile. "Well, if you're not here I'll be able to find you. You're back in the system now."