Callie:

I hated foster care, I thought as Lena drove me somewhere, presumably to her home. I hated not being in control of where I lived. I hated the court dates and the feeling that I had done something wrong, even when I hadn't. I definitely hated David. But there was nothing I hated more than being in Chula Vista. Between the other girls and the guards with lingering eyes and wandering hands, I hadn't had a decent night's sleep since I had arrived there two months prior.

I thought back to my last interaction with the worst of the girls. They had taunted me before delivering decisive and calculated blows to my face, shoulder, and ribs. The guards had been slow to break up the fight; eager to put me in my place and to make clear one final time how little I was worth. Message received. Thinking about the fight made my injuries hurt and I brought my hand to my face and pressed down gently on my mouth to soothe my split lip, which I had irritated during my conversation with David. Lena spotted the motion and offered a sad smile. I lowered my hand in haste - I didn't need her pity - and her smile fell just as quickly.

I shook off the guilty feeling that came from causing her discomfort and returned my thoughts to Jude, who I knew I needed to get to - and soon. Why hadn't he been with David? The thought made me anxious and I blinked back the tears threatening to fall as my breathing got more and more shallow. I inhaled deeply and subtly slipped my hand under my seat belt to rub at my chest, tapping out my breath duration. Lena looked at me quizzically and asked if I was okay. Apparently, I hadn't been subtle enough. I nodded a response and lowered my hand to my lap.

When I began to get dizzy and my heart continued to race, I used one hand to pinch the skin on the back of my other hand; carefully digging my thumb and index fingernails into the skin. The pain helped.

I allowed my thoughts to wander. I had nearly cried in front of Lena; my temporary foster mother. It had been a cruel form of punishment for David to force me to watch as someone decided whether or not I was worth the trouble but I was still surprised by the surge of emotions. I chided myself for the weak display before recalling that it was my near tears that convinced Lena to keep me for a couple of weeks, which was more than enough time for me to get to Jude. Thinking of him caused my heart to race again and I pinched my hand cruelly for the third time until Lena reached across the console and stilled my fingers causing me to flinch. I scooted away from her and leaned into the door. She sighed heavily, her annoyance clear, and moved her hand back to the wheel.

Lena:

I turned the radio on ten minutes into our ride home when it became apparent that Callie wasn't going to answer my questions with more than a nod or a quizzical head tilt. I had given her an overview of the family, telling her about Stef and the kids and she had nodded attentively enough. Her attentiveness waned when I asked about her past; her response was to frown at me and turn toward the passenger side window.

I took advantage of her shift in focus and snuck several peeks at her. She was quiet and her silence combined with her wariness reminded me of Marianna when we first got her. She was also rail-thin; so small and skinny that I had nearly convinced myself that Stef wouldn't notice the extra child. I smirked to myself at the thought before quickly dismissing it, "She's a cop. She's going to notice and then she is going to kill you." Movement in my periphery distracted me and I watched as Callie's hand flew to her lip before she noticed me looking and quickly lowered it. The busted lip looked out of place on her delicate features and it looked painful; though she hadn't said anything about the pain. She hadn't said anything to me at all, I realized. Not one word.

I heard her breathing become more shallow and a quick glance revealed that her skin had paled. I knew the beginning stages of a panic attack and Callie was obviously well on her way to having one. "Are you alright?" I asked her, lowering my eyes to her hand which she had slipped beneath her seat belt to rub against her sternum. She jerked her hand to her lap and nodded. Sure you are, I thought as I resumed monitoring the road.

I snuck another look and noticed that Callie was pinching herself – hard. I asked her what she was thinking about and she gave me an evasive look and didn't answer me, turning instead back to the window. When she moved her hand to the third spot to pinch, I reached over and draped my hand over hers stilling her fingertips, and assured her "Hey now; none of that, please. Everything is going to be okay". She flinched acutely, closed her eyes and scooted a couple of inches closer to the door. I withdrew my hand quickly, lecturing myself internally, "Way to go Lena; now she is scared of you".

"Are you okay?" I asked. She nodded her response but kept her hands under her thighs and remained uncomfortably close to the door. Eventually, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Adams-Foster Residence

Callie

I was sitting in the largest house I'd ever been in when Lena introduced me. Marianna and Jesus had been in foster care too, Jesus offered willingly; they had apparently been in several homes before they met Lena and her wife. They agreed that the system sucked and discussed openly how glad they were not to be in it anymore. I was momentarily bitter that, unlike me, they'd been adopted when they were still young, cute and wanted. But I could hardly be jealous that they had made it out; I wouldn't want my worst enemy to be in some of the homes I'd been in.

Based on his comments, Brandon was some sort of prodigy pianist and was Stef's biological son. He was participating in an upcoming competition and was discussing the complexity of his piece when Jesus interrupted him to ask me, "What happened to your face? Did you get in a fight?" I ignored him and looked around trying to figure out where the bathroom was. I needed a moment ... several actually.

Lena noted my distraction and, after a beat, asked if I was looking for the restroom. I nodded yes and she pointed to a door just past the refrigerator. I grabbed my bag and followed her directions. On my way, I could hear Marianna asking Lena more questions about me, "Does she talk? How old is she? Where did she come from?" I felt a rush of shame and rolled my eyes at Lena's vague responses; I guess we weren't telling people about juvie. Fair enough.

I locked the bathroom door and looked around carefully before I searched my bag for my favorite picture of Jude and I. I ran my finger over his face and sank down onto the bathroom floor breathing heavily. The tears that had been threatening to fall since I'd gotten placed at Chula Vista fell without my consent and, for the second time that day, I lost control of my breathing. I shoved my sleeve into my mouth to silence my sobs and let myself cry for a few moments. When I heard footsteps outside the bathroom and then a knock on the door, I pinched my hand and used the resulting pain to get my emotions under control. When I could breathe normally, I got up to wash my face; taking care to splash some cold water on my eyes.

When I walked out, Lena eyed me curiously with some suspicion and asked, "Are you okay?" I nodded blindly. I really needed to talk to Jude.