Author Note

Another chapter for you lovely people that's a bit longer and surprisingly drama-free ;) Not to fret, it will ramp up again very soon. I love building in those quieter moments between Callie and Stef to capture the growth of their relationship, as well as to show how nurturing and committed Stef is to Callie's growth. As always, thanks for reading and for all the support. ~bshert

Chapter 10: Making Inroads

"What was that, Stef?" Lena asked in disbelief, turning her attention to her wife who was genuinely puzzled as to why she was being criticized. The cop had assumed that Lena would appreciate her stepping in to handle Callie, especially after the teen had become increasingly confrontational and disrespectful.

"How could you have taken away her guitar? Music is probably the only thing she does right now that's an acceptable outlet for her to cope with her feelings. Not a good idea to use it as a bargaining chip!"

Stef clamped her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose hard, trying to counteract the burning sensation in her sinuses. Taking in a ragged breath, the cop was surprised at how close to tears she was. She couldn't help but to feel particularly sensitive in that moment; in addition to Lena being upset with her, their sweet girl had just declared that she hated her. It had been awhile since any of their children had lashed out in a way that left her feeling emotionally raw and vulnerable. Until Callie and Jude had come along, that is.

"What was I supposed to do, honey? You heard the way Callie was speaking to us—we couldn't just let her get away with that," Stef said, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

Lena narrowed her eyes as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I never suggested that Callie didn't deserve consequences," she said impatiently. "Yes, how she behaved was ludicrous but really—confiscating her guitar until she writes us over a hundred lines? You don't think that's a little harsh? We don't even do that at school anymore because our teachers were finding it ineffective."

Sighing, Stef swallowed her pride. Now that Lena had put it that way, she had to admit that having Callie write lines was a bit ridiculous; however, she knew that there was no way she could take it back without looking like she was waffling. And that was the last thing she wanted to convey to Callie at a time she so obviously needed stability, structure, and the security of knowing that boundaries would be firmly enforced without fail each time she tested them.

"I'm sorry, Lena. I didn't realize how much two pages worth would be."

The cop was unable to help but to tear up as she felt sheer frustration from the difficulty her and Lena were having with how to deal with Callie. Also present were feelings of resentment and irritation from always having to be the one going head-to-head with the teen but not being able to count on Lena to give her both the space or the support to do so.

"I just really want Callie to understand that even though she might not trust us one hundred percent right now, she does need to do what we say—even if she doesn't want to. That she's not going to get out of it, no matter how rude and obstinate and hurtful she decides she's going to be with us."

Seeing how upset her wife looked, Lena began to have a change of heart. She certainly hadn't meant to keep questioning Stef, who had been the one doing the majority of the grunt work with Callie and taking time off to stay home and try to bond with her. Though the girl was not making it easy on either of them, she was significantly more combative with Stef, which made it much easier for Lena to be patient.

"Babe, I know," she said softly. "I want the same outcome, I just don't think Callie expected to lose her guitar."

As Stef lost her composure, Lena took a step forward and placed a hand on her wife's arm before Stef could turn away from her to avoid disclosing her feelings.

"You know Callie didn't mean that. She doesn't really hate you, honey," Lena comforted, as Stef smiled brokenly at her. The typical, it's all good and fine look that they gave Callie such a hard time about. Although Lena knew that she couldn't imagine what Stef was feeling, it was apparent that she was devastated. The pair had quite the unique bond; the cop had a knack for being able to read the teen well and Callie seemed to respond to that, at times letting go of her guarded disposition to allow her in.

The cop remained silent, trying to pull herself together. While there were definitely times when Callie pissed her off to no end, she loved that kid, which made her words sting even more. "I'm not sure if I believe you," she said hoarsely as she stared at a distant point on the wall behind her wife so that she would not cry.

"Think baby girl made it quite clear how she felt about me," Stef said plaintively, reaching out to engulf Lena into a hug and taking in the scent of the shampoo that seemed to be ever-present in her wife's thick, tightly wound curls. For awhile, the both of them stood in the same spot, slightly rocking the other.

"Hey…" Lena said, extricating herself from Stef so she could place her hands on the cop's shoulders. "Stop."

"I don't think in that moment she was very happy with you and what she probably hated wasn't so much you, but the fact that she acted out and you wouldn't let her get away with it. It was only yesterday that you told me she was scrambling to spend some time with you. I highly doubt she hated you then, babe," she tried to reassure.

"It's been tough but just think how far we've come. Callie barely said a word when she first came to us. This is progress," Lena tried to point out. "In it's own way it is. Fight-and-flight is progress when you're used to freezing, like she has. Callie's learning to reclaim it because she hasn't been allowed to for so many years."

"I know…I know," Stef acknowledged, remembering the bit of background Bill had given her and Lena about the Jacob kids' experiences in previous homes. "But this is honestly some kinda brutal. I see her struggling and it kills me that I can't do anything for her. Or, we're trying to do the right thing by her but she's just fighting us and fighting us that she's not seeing we're on her side. That hurts and is damn frustrating at the same time."

"Well honey, it's like riding a bike, right? Callie's still learning how to temper the fight in her. And luckily, she sees you as the safe place where she can do that learning without fearing you'll abandon her."

"Indeed. Lucky me."

Stef couldn't help but to have doubts about whether she had been justified and if she should have done differently as she saw how Callie struggled with completing the lines. After a quiet breakfast and lunch, she made a conscious effort to give the girl the space to decompress, only checking in periodically to show she was still available and no longer angry with her.

Trying to contend with her homework as well as the extra work Stef and Lena had doled out, the teen remained at the kitchen table wondering just how she'd be able to get it all done. In theory, Callie could have finished the lines quickly had she just concentrated. At first, it hadn't even seemed like that big a deal since she had had to do them in elementary school; however, it had turned out to be much more difficult than Callie anticipated. It seemed that every time she put her pencil to the page, an internal battle emerged over whether she should dig her heels in or comply so she could get her guitar back, which she missed having already.

Unknown to Callie, her dilemma was all too obvious to the cop. Stef, too, struggled between giving her the freedom to decide what she wanted to do and ordering her to focus and complete them in one go so it'd be all over and done with. In the end, she decided that it would be a better lesson if Callie had the opportunity to work through it on her own without being subjected to her hovering. As a parent, Stef felt this would be the only way to foster accountability; otherwise, the girl would be just going along with the consequences passively due to being nagged. Judging by the way Callie looked in disappointment at her guitar when she passed by the living room where it sat, the woman was fairly certain that the teen would eventually write them.

"Hey love, how's it going?" Stef asked as she walked into the kitchen. Looking over Callie's shoulder at what she was working on, the woman hugged her with both arms from behind and kissed the top of her head. Callie had been in low spirits since their altercation and the woman was well aware that she would soon need reassurance to allay her doubts of her place in the family and whether their relationship was okay, as she so often did after getting into trouble with them.

Stef glanced at the papers scattered haphazardly about the table, her own handwriting catching her attention from amidst the mess. I will use a respectful tone and appropriate language when speaking to others. Furious when she had impatiently scrawled the words, at one point the page had torn under the impact of her pen. Stef cringed as she remembered handing the sheet to Callie without a word after breakfast and how miserable the teen had looked before slumping down in her chair. Underneath her sentence, Callie's neat writing followed; the teen had almost made it to the end of one side before she put it aside.

"Want help?" the cop offered, seeing blanks throughout the English worksheet Callie was currently plugging away at. "I might remember something from a decade or so ago." Stef saw the girl hesitate and search her face with an expression that was rife with confusion, and she understood that Callie thought she might still be angry with her.

"You had to read it back then, too?" the teen responded, referring to the novel the questions were based on.

"Sure did. Hey! I am not that old," Stef protested, as a small smirk formed on the girl's face.

She pulled up a chair beside Callie's and put on her glasses to look over the questions. "Always a good strategy to do the more straightforward ones and leave the harder ones for later, like you've done," she praised, aware of how much difficulty the youth had been having with adjusting to a charter school. Timothy's class especially had a reputation for being quite high level and Callie had previously told her how daunted she felt by his assignments.

"Okay," Stef read aloud. "Throughout Bridge to Terabithia, Jess' father appears uncaring and unsympathetic. Briefly explain the reason for this type of attitude. What are some things that could have been done to improve their relationship?"

Frickin' Timothy, the woman cursed under her breath, quickly glancing at the other questions, some of which she felt were too complex for eighth grade. Stef figured the guy was probably another PhD who hadn't been successful at getting a post-doc position at college, leaving him overqualified to teach high school.

Callie knitted her brow; she remembered she had skipped that question because she couldn't think of anything beyond cheesy answers for the second part of the question. "Maybe that's just the way he is, or maybe he was tired because he had to work out of town everyday."

"Okay, good start. They were poor too, so had a lot of financial stress," Stef guided. "What about the fact that Jess and his Dad are from different generations; how do you think that might be a factor in all of this?"

"Huh?" Callie blurted. "Oh…you mean because his dad is traditional and expects him to be tough and the man in the family? So he probably doesn't want to be nice because he doesn't want Jess to be sensitive. He kinda is already."

"Right on. He probably isn't very good at showing his feelings and that makes him come across as being cold or distant, although he probably wants to be nice to his son. Most parents want that, Callie—to have a good relationship with their kids, I mean," she said.

Stef wondered how much of this she could turn into a teachable moment as she watched Callie write the points in. "So, what could be done to make things better between the both of them?"

The teen shrugged. "I dunno, not much. They're just really different and don't talk much. Jess tries not to get in his way too much."

"Mm, I can think of a few things," the woman suggested. "Even though they're different, they could spend more time together which would help them understand each other a bit more. His Dad could learn more about his son's interest in art. Jess could communicate and tell his Dad how he feels when he's being criticized.

Stef questioned, "You don't think these are reasonable options?" when Callie only looked at her incredulously.

"Well, no," the girl said slowly, trying to be patient. "Those are teacher answers, not real life. Mr. Aarons had to work a ton and he didn't have energy or time when he was home to spend with Jess. Plus, he wanted Jess to do more farm work and didn't care that he liked art."

"Okay…you're right, these are probably the sorts of answers that your teacher would want, so I'd write them in anyway," Stef instructed, pleased to see Callie oblige. "What about increasing communication between the two of them?"

"But how would that even work?" Callie looked frustrated. "You just said his Dad wouldn't be good at talking about feelings."

"Plus that's how you get in trouble," the girl mumbled, shrugging. "Some parents might want to be nice but they have stuff to worry about and not a lot of time for you. If you say something they'll get mad. You're not worth it in the big picture."

Looking down further as she spoke, it was so very clear to the cop that Callie was no longer referring to the assignment. "Sweetheart, you're worth it. You're worth my time," Stef said softly after a pause, saddened by her daughter's obvious mistrust of adults.

"Let's finish the chapter vocabulary list together before going back to the rest of these questions. You only have a few words left," Stef proposed, not waiting for a response before turning the page over. The truth was that the only question they had attempted had left her exhausted. She was grateful when Callie nodded, giving the go-ahead.

"Rumpus," Stef began.

"A loud noise?"

"Close. Due to what?" Stef said, unlocking and pushing her phone towards Callie so she could Google.

"A fight or a loud argument," Callie read. She neatly wrote the definition in under the term before pushing the syllabus back towards her foster mother so she could read out the next word.

"Prissily."

"Mm. Like stuck up, maybe?" Callie suggested sheepishly as she knew it would not be acceptable.

"You're right, Bug, but I'm not sure if you would get full marks for that. Can you think of another word?"

Stef felt a sense of endearment and amusement as Callie's brow furrowed before she smiled mischievously when she came up with an alternative term. "Hoity-toity!"

"Really, that's the best you could come up with, Cal? You may get points for creativity," the cop laughed. "But I'd add in 'formal' or 'proper' to keep your snobby teacher happy." At that, Callie stared wide-eyed before letting out a giggle.

"Almost done. Cocoon."

"That's easy. That's the silk thing that caterpillars build around them before they become butterflies or moths."

Stef pushed her phone towards the girl yet again. "You can't write 'thing' down as part of the definition. It's too ambiguous."

"It's called a casing," Callie said after a few minutes, beaming that she was able to find the correct term.

"Nice job," the cop praised. "Last one. Shebang."

"When a girl has sex," Callie managed to deadpan for a few seconds before a cheeky smile crept across her face.

"Callie!" The cop rolled her eyes and tried to maintain an unimpressed expression as she peered over her glasses.

The teen ignored her, barely able to get her next words out as she began to laugh. "Sh— She bangs!"

"Okay, wisenheimer, that's enough," Stef finally managed to scold in mock seriousness, having a great deal of difficulty fighting her own amusement. "Really, Callie, where on earth do you get this stuff, hm? You're lucky Mama's not here!"

It was utterly hopeless, however; seeing her daughter in stitches was contagious and soon, she too was laughing until she started to cry. It was so rare to see Callie act like the thirteen year old she was and the woman would take and hold onto every single moment she could get, inappropriateness and all.

That kid. Her kid.