The house had looked a little run down with flowers fighting for position amongst the weeds and paint peeling off the window boxes. The hedges out front were looking a touch wild and overgrown. Thin new branches were trying to grow in random directions and would soon become a danger to passing pedestrians. Children's bikes and other toys were in the yard, some leaning up against the fence, others lay in the grass where they'd been left. A group of half dressed Barbie dolls had been carefully placed in a seated position around a dry, cracked circle of earth. The interior was pretty much a reflection of the outside; wallpaper was peeling away at the top of the walls and where the hallway merged with the staircase, it looked as though someone had tried to rip off an entire panel.

The house belonged to an approved foster family, the Findens who'd been taking in children for a number of years. Their charges were long and they always had room for emergency placements, the shortest of which had been for three hours. The Findens liked a full house and with a shortage of foster families in the area, social workers had developed a tendency to dump problem children on them to allow themselves breathing space to find a longer term alternative. Within their five bed house was an attic room containing a single bed which was reserved for the emergency children, or those whose behaviour meant for their safety or the safety of others dictated they be kept separate. The room had been empty for the past six weeks but today a new boy had arrived. Emergency. Removed from his previous foster family for violence and not for the first time. The social workers needed a stop gap to decide the best course of action. The police were still investigating the previous nights events and the social services manager was waiting to see if charges were to be pressed. That would relinquish his responsibility and mean the boy would fall in to the juvenile prison system. If he wasn't charged on this occasion, then it was only a matter of time before he was imprisoned.

Elizabeth Finden had welcomed the boy in the same way that she did to all the children who fell under her care, no matter their reasons for staying. Mr Chivers, the manager of the Los Angeles County social team had remained on the doorstep, reminding Elizabeth of the boy's shortcomings in full earshot of the teenager. He had remained silent throughout the exchange, staring in to the distance with a distinctly bored expression on his face. He had twisted away from the touch of Mr Chivers when he had been issued a warning about his future behaviour and Elizabeth had thought that interesting. It hadn't been a flinch, which she had witnessed from many an abused child but literally a pulling away, a separation. She had been briefed on the thirteen year olds background and knew there had been confirmed instances of physical abuse and Elizabeth wondered if his own violent attacks were connected. Mr Chivers had left shortly after, clearly keen to leave the 'problem child', as he had described him, to the latest of an ever increasing list of homes.

Elizabeth stood in the hallway and looked at the boy who silently and sullenly returned her stare.

'Hi, as you heard I'm Elizabeth and I live here with my husband Donald who's at work at the moment. We have six other children so you'll be the seventh. C'mon, I'll show you to your room.'

Elizabeth started climbing the stairs and paused to make sure she was being followed.

'Now what do you like to be called? G? Callen? Cal?'

Callen steadied his bedroll on his narrow shoulders and hauled the bin liner containing his belongings over the same one, thankful that it was pretty light.

'Callen.'

'Callen it is then. You're lucky, you've got the only single bedroom in the house - but unlucky that it's the attic room at the top of the house. There are two bedrooms and a family bathroom on this floor, next floor is mine and Donnie's room, another bedroom and smaller bathroom which you can use. Donnie and I have an en suite. We're right in the middle so if anyone has any problems, we'll be right there.'

Callen listened with half an ear, gleaning that he was in a room by himself and would have to negotiate every landing and hallway in the house when he decided to leave, which by his reckoning would be during the night. So far he'd managed to escape being sent to a juvenile detention centre and being returned to an orphanage. This was basically his new prison. Mr Chivers had called it a foster home but it looked to him like a children's home, fit for all the rejects the system hadn't yet figured out what to do with.

Elizabeth opened the door to the attic room. Callen entered and threw his bin bag on the floor and sat on the bed. He deliberately chose not to look around the room and instead stared straight ahead at the door handle. He had already assessed Elizabeth Finden. A late forties, stay at home foster mum that looked tired. Her brown hair was falling out of its bun and she was constantly tucking strands behind her ears. Callen almost asked why she didn't use a hair clip.

'So you must be feeling a bit lost and annoyed with everything.'

Elizabeth was met with silence. Callen was the thirty first child that had come through her doors and she was used to this behaviour. She entered his room and began to walk to the window.

'Stop.'

Elizabeth halted. There was a warning in Callen's voice which she had not anticipated and it was not pleasant.

'I'm sorry Callen, I was only going to open the window and point out that this is the only room where you can see the ocean.'

'Just go away.'

Elizabeth smiled slightly as she understood now the warning was not a prelude to a physical attack but merely the usual reaction from most teens she encountered.

'Sure, I'll let you have some peace and quiet. The older kids will be back from school in about twenty minutes so feel free to raid the fridge before they do. Dinner is a six.'

Callen watched his latest foster parent smile tentatively at him as she closed the door to his room. He listened intently as she walked away. When he was convinced she had really gone, Callen exhaled and dropped his shoulders. He had subtly taken in his new room the moment he stepped inside and had even managed to see the ocean, glistening bright blue in the distance. Standing, he walked to the window and tested the latch. It was unlocked so Callen swung the window open wide and leaned out. Luckily the attic window was set in the wall rather than the slanting roof although there was a small skylight high above the dresser. Looking down he could see very little that would aid an escape. The drainpipe was at the edge of the house and about two metres away from him. There were no trees or ivy that could be used to clamber across. Good choice for a home prison, he thought turning to the door in a sudden panic. Had he seen a lock or a latch on the outside? In three bounds Callen had crossed the room and wrenched the door open, half expecting to find it locked and eternally thankful that it wasn't. He checked the frame and the door and breathed a sigh of relief when there was none.

'Whatya doin?'

Callen jumped at the words and saw a scrawny kid of about five or six peeking round the banister at the top of the stairs.

'Nothin'. Go away.'

'Are you new?'

Callen stared at the boy, willing him to go leave him in peace.

'I think you are. I'm bored.' The boy leaned over the top stair and scratchy his shock of blonde hair.

'And?'

'Will you play with me?' He moved his toys to the landing so Callen could see that he really wanted to play a game.

'No.'

'I wanna play cowboys and Indians. You can be a cowboy and I can be a cowboy.'

'I don't wanna play. And how can you play cowboys and Indians if no one's an Indian?'

'I'm a cowboy and the Indians have me so then you are a cowboy and you come and get me. Look here's your hat and gun.'

The kid threw the toys towards Callen who watched them stop just short of his feet.

'I don't want to play.'

'Ok.' The kid looked sad for all of two seconds and then piped up again. 'I know. You can be the cowboy and I can save you from the Indians. I can be the Indian, I've got the bow and arrow. Here.'

The kid was inching his way closer to Callen and showing him an ever increasing stash of toy weapons.

'I lost the arrows so Eddie got some sticks and made me some more.'

The boy put his fingers to his lips and motioned Callen to be silent. He then rather clumsily turned around and peered downstairs.

'Eddie has a knife and he made these arrows real good. But he told me not to tell anyone as it's a secret.'

That piece of information woke Callen up. The Swiss Army knife he had obtained at his last home had been confiscated and returned to its rightful owner. It was another count of theft the social workers had against him and one that was deemed too minor to involve the police, even though technically it was a weapon. Instead all Callen had now was a rather blunt switch blade that was hidden in his bedroll.

'Who's Eddie?'

'He's like you but he's at school.' Frankie scratched his head and comically looked as though he was considering a very serious situation. 'Why aren't you at school?'

Callen shrugged his shoulders and replied. 'Why aren't you at school?'

The boy mimicked Callen's actions and then unable to stay quiet, continued the conversation.

'I got sick last night so Elizabeth said I could stay home coz if I got sick at school she would have to come and get me but she had to stay in today coz you were coming and she had to be here for you.'

'I bet you felt better after the others went to school.'

'Yes.' The boy said, slowly nodding his head. 'How did you know?'

'I sometimes get ill like that.' Callen said, understanding well how lying and truancy started young and continued forever. At least that was the way Callen saw it. 'What's your name?'

'Frankie. I'm six. What's your name?' Frankie stuck out a finger and pointed at Callen.

'Callen.'

'Do you want to play cowboys and Indians now?'

'No.'

Callen watched Frankie's face drop, figuring the kid should get used to disappointment.

'Please?'

'Only if you tell me about everyone here.'

'OK.' Frankie broke in to a smile.

'How many kids live here?'

'That's easy. Five.'

'Elizabeth told me seven.'

'No,' Frankie shook his head. 'Me, Eddie and David, Kat and Abigail and William.'

'That's six.'

Callen had watched Frankie in amusement as he counted on his fingers and still messed up. His face fell in disappointment that he had been unable to give the older boy the correct answer.

'Oh. Miss Edwards said I was getting real good with my numbers.'

'Yeah. Well if you count me then it's seven. Who sleeps in the bedroom on that floor?' Callen pointed down the stairs.

'Kat and Abigail sleep in there. They're twins and they look like each other. But I know which one is Kat. I like her the best.'

'How old are they?'

'They're like really old. They might leave school soon.'

'Who sleeps on the floor below?'

'I do.'

'And?'

'And Eddie and William and David and we got one room. I have to sleep on the bottom bunk but I keep trying to get the top bunk instead of David but he keeps telling me off.'

'Why are you all in one room?'

'When Adam was here he was really horrible and got some paint and threw it all over his room. He got in to lots of fights and was really scary. And then he stole Donald's car and all the money.'

'So what happened to Adam?'

'He didn't go to school anymore. I think he went to jail.'

'What?' Callen was confused. That didn't make sense, mind you he wasn't sure that anything Frankie said actually made sense. 'Why didn't he go to school?'

'He left school. He was older than Kat and Abigail and David.'

'Did he get arrested?'

'Donald thought I was asleep but we could see the flashing lights out the window. And there was shouting and they took him away.' Frankie held a finger to his lips, hoping Callen understood that was a secret.

'Can we see the ruined bedroom?'

'Donald says we're not allowed in there. He says he needs to work harder so he can get more money to pay for it.'

'So how old is Eddie?'

'He's thirteen and very tall and he's my best friend. I want him to be my brother. Oh and he's so tall he's like a giant.'

'What about David and William?'

'William is a baby. David is, um... I think he is nearly sixteen. He wants to drive Donald's car but no one's allowed.'

'How long has everyone been here?'

'Longer than me. You ask too many questions. Can we play cowboys now?'

Callen looked at Freddie and figured he'd done well with his answers. He really didn't want to play kiddie games, it interrupted his plans to figure if he should risk staying and see what social services were going to do with him or if he could gather some funds and runaway. He reckoned he had ten minutes before the others came home from school.

'Ten minutes only and we play here. You wear the outfit but I'll be sheriff. Give me the badge and gun.'

Callen reluctantly managed to clip the badge to his t-shirt and waved a gun in the direction of his room. Frankie leapt to his feet with a massive grin on his face and shrieked in delight as he charged in and jumped on the bed. Callen shook his head and followed. This was going to be the longest ten minutes of his life.