Chapter 1
"BABY!" screamed the huge man standing in front of me, otherwise known as my foster dad.
He had sweat that was forming at the top of his forehead and above his lip. His hand, which had formed into a fist, was shaking violently and I knew I was in deep shit. I didn't mean to steal his beer money; well, I mean I didn't mean to get caught. I thought he was passed out cold on the couch, so I tiptoed into the kitchen and reached into the beer money jar. The next thing I know my back is being slammed into the counter and I have a big scary foster dad yelling in my face. I could smell his stale breath and I wanted to puke.
"I'm sorry," I say trying to sound like I really mean it.
"You're sorry?" he says in a mocking tone. "You will see how sorry you are when the police drag your skinny Indian ass back to juvy."
He just had to be racist on top of being an ass. Everyone knows that the politically right thing to do is to call Native Americans, Native Americans and not Indians. I shouldn't complain though, whatever Native American tribe I'm from seem like hypocrites to me. The tribes are supposed to work on keeping there people together, hell that's why they live on reservations and put there kids in there own schools. However, they just decided it was okay to toss me in the care of the pale faces. Fuck, I would not even know that I am Native American if it had not been for the nurse that decided I should "know my heritage" and put a note in my hospital file after I had been born. I guess I looked it, with my tan skin and long straight black hair. My eyes were a different story though, they were grey, not blue grey or green grey, just plain grey.
"Do you really have to call the police? I promise I will never touch anything that's yours again." I pleaded. I did not want to go back to juvy…ever.
"Of course I'm calling the police you fucking idiot. I don't need a thief living in my house. Your social worker told me to call the police if anything like this happened," the ass replied as he got his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the police station.
I kind of zoned out after that for a while and the next thing I know I'm sitting in a chair at the Forks police station waiting for my social worker to pick me up.
"It looks like we have a problem," the police officer that had been sitting with me since I had been brought in asked.
"And what might that be," I reply.
"It looks like your social worker, Stacey, got herself fired." he explains.
"So…does that mean I can never leave here?" I ask the police officer sarcastically.
"We will figure something out, don't worry, ummm, what was your name again?"
"Baby. Baby Uley." I answer uninterested in where this is going.
"Well Baby, I'm Officer Swan," he responded.
"Well Officer Swan, don't I get a phone call or something because I have some people who might actually care about my whereabouts." I answer with a little too much attitude.
"Well since you are not being held under arrest anymore I can give you your personal items back," he says handing me a bag with my cell phone and wallet in it.
"Thanks." I say feeling sort of bad for being rude to this middle aged man.
"No problem, Just sit tight and we'll figure out your situation." Officer Swan says as he walks away.
I lean back into the chair and pull me knees up to my chest. I flip open my super old flip phone that I got for two dollars at a garage sale and dial the one person who actually cares.
The phone rings twice before I hear, "hey, where are you?" from an extremely familiar voice.
"Hey Ty," I answer not ready to explain to him where I am and that I got kicked out of yet another foster home.