Rug Swept Out Of The Home — Chapter Seventeen
He arrived at eleven forty-six am.
It was currently seven-ten pm.
He was losing his freaking mind.
As it turned out, the person— or one of the persons at the door, he should say— was, in fact, his social worker, Goody-Mich-Two-Shoes. And yes, that was her official name. Well, Mich was. It was a nickname (that she didn't like (not like that ever stopped him)) of her less-ish official name— Michaela.
But her name was still Goody-Mich-Two-Shoes.
Yet regardless, his guess as to why she was there was wrong, or... he just wasn't right— yet. Anyways, it seemed like she wasn't there to take him to a new foster home (not yet) but to the local police station instead hence the other persons at the door. And the reason why he needed to go to the police station despite him saying repeatedly the C.I.A covered everything and it is a classified case so get your smokey blue asses out of here (Lukian—!) was because, guess what, he didn't exist! Yeah, Daisy may have left one thing out particularly regarding the fact that any digital file or proof of his existence was completely gone. And especially since the state owned him (ha—) that was problematic.
The bright side about this new problem was that since he has only been a charge of Mich's for a little over a year now since his previous social worker quit on him (she retired because he gave her too many grey hairs and she had decided she wanted to save herself from a future aneurysm — her words, not his), the entire precinct had to trust the word of a thirteen-year-old to build him a new identity.
It was awesome.
Although after a few too many jokes and sarcastic remarks and far too many reprimands he started answering honestly, unfortunately. Though in just under an hour of arriving he had been threatened to be put in a cell four times already, and some cop said he had broken a record. Lukian had smiled proudly, Goody-Mich-Two-Shoes had scowled.
Once the question of what his name was came around (why wasn't this the first question?) he had answered it truthfully without hesitation.
"Lukian."
The woman in front of him had raised an eyebrow, while her partner typed it in the computer.
"Last name?" He had asked.
"Don't have one."
The cop looked at him. "We need a family name, son."
Lukian had folded his arms. "I'm an orphan in case you've forgotten after your sixteen very helpful reminders today."
Yes, he counted. The boredom was driving him up the walls.
"Legal name's Kelly Clements," The lady officer supplied. "Caught him back in '09 lifting some business owner of their wallet."
At the time he remembered flinching from the memory that followed the police encounter. The tip of his sneaker had scuffed at the floor at the failed attempt to change his name. No one else in the room had cared and the guy was already onto the next question.
"Date of birth?"
Lukian shrugged, truthfully not knowing.
"Come on, you don't know your own birthday?"
He smiled and shook his head, an idea had popped in his mind. "July fourth,"
What? He wanted fireworks on his birthday, what was wrong with that? At least then he had a guaranteed birthday present.
The questions from there on had all been about his previous foster placements, he made sure to tell them which ones were the abusive assholes so they could be removed of their foster license. But his warning had all gone to shit when Goody-Mich-Two-Shoes had overruled him and said they were all highly trusted and recommended fosters, then also adding on the 'complaints' from each one about him from memory. And so of course from that point on they all ignored every word he said and only listened to the adult because, oh yes, adults know all! He remembered rolling his eyes bitterly.
And that was only at 1:37 pm.
Everything was going fine, he was perfectly content to keep expertly zoning out the adults as he does in school when his traitor of a mind refocused on the worst conversation out of all the conversations to start paying attention to.
"And after that, he was fostered by Deborah Denson, right? Two years?"
"Oh, yes, she adored him— was thinking about adopting actually but then you know, they wouldn't allow her to. A few days later is when he ran away. No one had seen him again until a year and a half later he turned up in Manhattan— basically starved to death."
Lukian took a deep breath, several controlled deep breaths, and repeated the mantra in his head.
I ran away. I ran away. I ran away. I ran away. I ran away. I ran away. I ran away. I ran away.
"Why'd you run away, kid?"
His head snapped to the woman police officer, he had realized he probably should have learned their names. Dozens of reasons why he ran floated through his mind, he had shoved them away. After numerous more deep breaths, he had answered.
"I thought living on my own would be better, save everyone else the trouble of me bouncing around." Lukian recited from memory, his eyes downcast. But he had still seen the sadness on Mrs. Halloway's face (honestly, he completely forgot she was there), the poorly hidden guilt on his social worker, and the almost concealed sympathy of the cops.
Good, he internally smiled, the emotional ploy was working.
"Did you like living with Mrs. Denson, Kelly?"
He had redirected his flinch that time to his toes, a trick he learned early on in that house. He had never hated himself more for being caught by the cop in front of him than in the moment. Lukian had smiled softly and brought his gaze to the wall behind the police officers like he was lost in a memory. "She was nice, she cared about my grades and gave me food. She also taught me how to punch someone in the face when they won't go away." The fake smile had turned into a fake shit-eating grin.
The lie had felt like lava on his tongue. It burned. He desperately wanted to tell the truth to say anything that would put her behind bars, because oh, she definitely deserved to never live a life, but fear had held him back. He was terrified. Of her. It almost killed him just because he was still telling the lies, she was still controlling him after all this time.
I ran away. I ran away. I ran away. I ran away—
Yeah, and spent the entire time absolutely petrified of her finding him and taking him back.
I ran away. I ran away. I ran away.
He wasn't sure what had happened after that, the next time he was fully present was now, which after a quick glance at the two-handed clock on the wall— it was… okay give him a minute… — Who even used these types of clocks anymore? — it was…
7:20 pm.
Wait, no, sorry—
It was 7:10.
He always thought it went by tens at first, and then it came to his realization that it wouldn't work and he was just an idiot. Lukian blinked heavily and his mind felt foggy. No doubt he had fallen asleep. How he honestly wasn't sure but he was still up in an instant with his hands trailing to his pockets instinctively. One out of habit, the other out of panic because there was something in his left pocket that wasn't supposed to be. It had crinkled and tickled his leg through the pocket's cloth when he had sat up. Lukian knew almost immediately it was paper.
A note specifically, written in Mrs. Halloway's handwriting— and in Russian.
Leona's parents had been born in Moscow then moved to the states later in life right before their kids and so Leona had grown up speaking both English and Russian. Anika and Kye understood Russian but couldn't read or speak it so when Lukian came around already fully fluent in Russian— the woman took the chance to use her (other?) native language any time she could. Lukian didn't mind it, despite all the bad memories— it was still a fun language.
Хай, Люциан, ты хорошо выспалась ночью. Я должна пойти и понаблюдать за Каем дома. Знаменитость была вызвана на работу. Мисс Майерс отвезет вас домой. До скорой встречи.
С любовью, Леона
[Hey, Lukian, I hope you had a good sleep. I have to go and watch Kye at home. Celeb was called into work. Miss Myers will drive you home. See you soon.
With love, Leona]
Fully ignoring the with love part (he didn't want to think about that), Lukian rolled his eyes at the message. Why couldn't Anika just watch Kye, why did she have to leave? Anika was fourteen, and Kye was what— six? He was taking care of his younger foster siblings at Kye's age, surely Anika could do the same at fourteen. It was a bullshit excuse which he didn't blame her for. He didn't want to wait here for eight hours either (hence why he fell asleep), but he was still here regardless.
He didn't need to look around the room for him to know he was the only one in it. The whistling was quiet beside his own. The white noise on the other hand was the exact opposite, mostly considering it was particularly windy today and he was on the fourth floor of the building so it was even windier. And therefore, much louder for him.
Yay, Inhuman abilities! So fun!
God, he really should've asked for that Advil already. He was an idiot. Well, more of an idiot as he had already established himself as one long ago.
Just as he was about to get up and maybe steal another donut— Goody-Mic-Two-Shoes walked in, and he knew instantly it wasn't good. The least they could do is give him the donut for free now. Despite the fact Celeb had brushed off and rejected all his Cop and donut jokes, this precinct loved them and seemed to have an unlimited supply. How these officers weren't elephant-sized— remained a mystery.
But anyhow, the polite/ informal/ not-sorry/ pity face had recently taken hold of his social worker's face which could only mean one thing, and even an idiot like himself could clearly make out what it meant.
That Leona was a fucking liar.
Basically.
"Гребаный придурок." Lukian swore bitterly.
It only seemed fitting to curse the woman out in the language that they shared.
Miss Myers, who did not know Russian simply cocked her head to the side in question, Lukian glared. Even if the Halloways were definitely one of the best homes he's ever stayed in— he couldn't help but feel immense relief that he was being moved. Especially since he was pretty sure he could never look Mr. Dougg in the eye ever again. Michaela said nothing as she gently sat down in the chair next to him and silently fiddled with her hands while trying to work out what to say.
"Do you have all my stuff in your car?" He bluntly asked, staring straight ahead.
Her eyes widened, utterly shocked that he already knew. He held back an eye roll, it wasn't exactly hard when she said everything on her face all the time. She was easier to read than a children's book.
Mich sighed. "I'm sorry to pull the rug out from under you like this, especially since you just got back. But the state," — he rolled his eyes — "The state believes it's the best option to keep you safe right now." When he remained quiet, she went on trying to explain the decision. "Whoever kidnapped you, they only wanted and took you out of your band of misfit friends, and who's to say they won't come back and kidnap you again?"
"The C.I.A," Lukian said, looking her in the eye. "They murdered all those bastards when they got me out. They aren't coming back from that."
She raised a placating hand. "Look, I know you're mad at me—"
"I'm not mad."
"— but it wasn't my decision, okay? I would've chosen to keep you with the Halloways for as long as possible where it's familiar and you can adjust to being back in a slow, calm manner."
Lukian blinked at her. "What's the point if you're just gonna send me away again in a few months?" He asked before he could stop himself. "I never stay anywhere longer than two years before I'm conveniently not a good fit anymore. Why?"
Miss Myers stayed silent for a while, she was guilty about something— that much was obvious. She sighed again.
"I dunno, kid, I dunno."
It was a lie, she did know. The slips of her words make it clear that she did, in fact, know, and besides, he recognized the twenty-two different tells that gave her up when she was talking just then. So it was obvious she just didn't want to say.
Lukian sighed too, гребаные взрослые. "Do you have all my stuff?"
Mich nodded. "Leona packed it herself." She said confidentially.
He only just managed not to squint at her— Was that supposed to be comforting? Because that just felt like betrayal to him.
"Even my baseball equipment?" He checked for the second time today.
"Hmm-hm," She smiled. "That's the thing with the long stick, right?"
"If it's not there I'm going to kill you." He said dangerously.
The light smack to his shoulder did the ridiculing for her. "We're in a police station you can't joke like that," — Who said anything about joking? — "Alright? Don't do that again."
Lukian rolled his eyes. "Jeez, you're more uptight than a librarian."
"What's that supposed to mean?" She hissed, angry.
"Nothing," He smiled sweetly. "Goody-Mich-Two-Shoes."
She glared at him. "Come on, Mister Clements, the car's waiting downstairs."
After a quick detour to throw away the now useless paper message of betrayal they were in the elevator. As they waited for the slowest elevator in existence to go down the four floors, Lukian asked the question he'd been dying to know ever since he knew he was off to somewhere new.
"Where am I going?" Lukian faked the breeziness in his voice and hid the (almost) fear.
She replied just as the doors finally opened. The tense tone in her voice from moments before hadn't left. "A group home, on the other side of the city."
He breathed easy at that, relieved it wasn't her— but he still couldn't help but groan out loud.
Mich rolled her eyes. "Stop being dramatic— they aren't that bad."
Lukian glared at her while opening the front door for her. "I was lying before— I am mad."
"I told you it wasn't my decision." She protested.
They walked down the still busy at seven at night street. The sun was just beginning to set, lighting the very bottom of the sky with a nice tint of orange. It was a pretty sight and not one you could see often in Queens with all the buildings in the way. But the moment was ruined when a strong gust of wind blew past his ear making his head pulse in pain. He would've tripped over his own feet had it not been for Goody-Mich-Two-Shoes who caught him.
"You alright?" She asked— it was almost like she cared.
"It was a gust of wind, not a stab wound." Lukian sneered, pulling his bandaged arm away harshly.
Mich sighed loudly which definitely didn't help his throbbing head. He glared at her all the way to the really freaking old silver Toyota Corolla. Seriously, that thing was older than him and it was actually dangerous to ride in. He wasn't scared of much, but that car frightened him. Weary of the almost broken handle, Lukian climbed into the passenger seat and started to buckle up.
Goody-Mich-Two-Shoes however, made him pause with a glare.
His brows furrowed. "What?"
"Get out," Mich ordered. "Come on, you know the rules. You have to sit in the backseat with th—"
"I'm not gonna jump out of a moving car." He deadpanned.
"—e child lock on because I can't trust you after the last time. You—"
"YOu crAShEd tHe cAR!"
"— jumped out of the vehicle onto a busy road—"
"The passenger seat wasn't even a seat anymore after you HiT tHE pOLe!"
"— nearly getting yourself killed in the process—"
"Oh, I'm sorry I have self prevention like any—"
"— so this time you're sitting in the—"
"— normal human being would."
"— back for your own—"
"HeLL, no, I'm not gOn—"
"— safety."
"—nA sit back and let your second mURDeR attempt go fOrTH!"
She rolled her eyes. "Just get in the back."
"Nope—"
"Kelly Clements—"
"— we are not doing this again."
"— I don't care, the rules are—"
"You think I care about rules?"
"— that you must sit in the back with the—"
"Not the stupid—"
"— child locks on—"
"— child locks! I'm thirteen not—"
"— until you can be deemed—"
"— a baby!"
"— trustworthy again."
"I'll age out of the system before then."
"Probably." She agreed. "Now shooch."
His hand twitched dangerously near his right pocket. Where he found the self-control not to, he didn't know. With many loud grumbles and some flavored curses in four different languages— Lukian grudgingly parked himself in the back of the car.
"I'm not going to even pretend to understand half of what you just said, but I know enough that it could probably land you in jail— so for my own sake— please don't. But, thank you for listening."
Despite his ever-growing headache, Lukian huffed loudly.
The entirety of the car ride was silent, for Lukian at least as he realized if froze the air molecules near his ears then the sound of his social worker's yapping faded away before it could ever reach him. Every once in a while he added in a hmm-hm and sure so she'd think he was listening and not taking tuning someone out to the next level with alien superpowers. To be honest he could get used to this. The silence was peaceful, he couldn't even hear the barely functioning sounds of the forty-year-old car. The whistling and white-nose were almost soothing as background noise, regardless of his mixed emotions— a nice calm feeling slowly filled him.
That was until after taking stock of his belongings— his equipment was, in fact, there, however, he realized soon that his baseball sweatshirt was absent. Which meant Anika still had it and that he was never getting it back because he now lived on the other side of the city in a group home that probably has more rules than a prison (or this car) and he definitely was changing schools. So long story short… he was never going to see her again to even get the chance of getting it back.
Just his luck.
Lukian let the sound filter in again as the car rolls to a stop right in front of a three-story brick townhouse. He doesn't even wait for Michaela to open the door for him (stupid child locks) as he climbed to the front seat and used the passenger door just to spite her. Plus he really didn't have the patience to wait for her.
He smiled breezily at her stone-cold stare.
"What's their names again?" He inquired. "I wasn't listening to you at all that whole time." Lukian cheekily smiled at her.
The glare intensified.
"Rick and Christine Rusgmen," Michaela responded through clenched teeth. "They're both ex-military so they'll be able to protect you if need be. They've been running the group home for almost six years now. They have rules, of course, not just for your protection but others as well— and you better listen to them this time." She wagged a finger at him as they walked up the steps.
Lukian sighed.
Whoever let ex-military foster and or run group homes needed to get their head checked. It never worked well and was always a terrible idea. He was already mourning the lack of sleep he was going to get. Though he was slightly glad Ms. Myers had remembered the question he always asked now, how long have they been around? He knew she could easily be able to create a new identity like it was buying milk so a name and background meant nothing to him. And if Rick and Christine have truly been running this group home for six years then he had no problem because then it physically couldn't be her.
They waited on the stoop for a minute, the summer night chill that came with the wind made Mich shiver. She muttered something about needing a sweater to which he rolled his eyes at and said she should've moved to Florida, not Queens. It wasn't even cold out, she was just being ridiculous. When the door gradually opened to reveal a man and a woman who were one-hundred percent unfamiliar to him, he sagged in relief.
That was until he saw the instant recognition in the man's eye.
Then, Lukian stiffened and instinctively let his hand rest inside his right pocket just in case. The dread and fear set in quickly. So much for it not having anything to do with her.