Chapter 18: Crossing the Line

Callie stared blankly up at the ceiling as she lay at the foot of the women's bed, her legs dangling off the edge. She couldn't help but ruminate on Stef's harsh words and wonder what they meant for her future with them. If and when they'd tell her to go; if today had been the last straw and they were reconsidering their initial interest in her and Jude's adoption.

"Do you want to get taken away? …keep this up and that's the direction you're headed."

"Unless you want to get sent back to juvie or a group home, you're going to…"

The insinuation of what the women would do was clear. If she didn't shape up, she'd have to ship out. They'd have her taken away.

While the thought had always remained in the back of her mind, with the women's encouragement, Callie had been trying to let go of her worries. From the very beginning, Stef and Lena had insisted on their commitment to doing everything they could to make sure their home would be her and Jude's final stop. And because they seemed to be the sort of people who kept their word and had never given her any real reason to believe otherwise, it had become harder and harder to uphold the original wariness with which she had regarded them.

For the first time since entering foster care, Callie discovered that the part of her that wanted to trust the women was slowly winning over her mistrust more often than not. She had become increasingly comfortable around them, getting used to their way of doing things and falling into the family's routine. The Fosters had turned out to be the nicest people they had ever been placed with—the closest thing to the forever family she'd always hoped to be a part of.

The petition for adoption had been filed quickly, which helped allay some of her fears, but things felt so precarious now. The documents had been submitted before she had begun to get into trouble at school and at home. Perhaps they were only beginning to realize how much she wasn't worth bringing into their home.

Trying to calculate how many more homes she could possibly go through before she turned eighteen and aged out, Callie felt tired and discouraged. She pictured her brother's disappointment at losing a chance to be part of a good home—at having a family again—and felt nothing but guilt.

Why did she have to be such a screw up?

Ten minutes passed and Callie itched for a puff of a joint to help take the edge off the adrenaline from her fight with Stef. The tightness in her chest, restlessness, and compounding stress felt as though they'd never wear off and she was desperate for relief.

Remembering the items the cop had taken from her, Callie suspected there'd be a good chance they hadn't been disposed of yet. And that they couldn't be anywhere other than somewhere in the master bedroom so that the kids wouldn't get their hands on it.

Callie quickly sat up and walked over to open the window, craning her neck outside. Mike had long since pulled out of the driveway but she could still hear Stef and Lena's voices drifting up from the front porch. Despite the cool air, she decided to keep the window open; that way, if the talking ceased she would know that they were coming inside.

Recognizing the rare opportunity where she was alone in the house and could safely look through the women's bedroom without drawing anyone's attention, Callie solidified her intent to act before she could talk herself out of it.

Callie first rifled through the dresser and nightstands before making her way to the en suite, where she meticulously went through the medicine cabinet as well as the narrow linen closet adjacent to the washer and dryer. Finally, she turned her attention to the women's closet. Several of Lena's silk blouses slipped off their plastic hangers as she parted the sea of clothes, leaving her scrambling to hang them back up. Next, she checked Stef's uniforms in case the cop had forgotten to empty her pockets. Finding nothing, she moved onto the closet's shelving unit, taking down some of the see-through Rubbermaids containing Lena's scarves, shoes, and fancier clothing to create space to check in between them.

As her desperation mounted, Callie found it increasingly difficult to keep evidence of the search inconspicuous. While items were generally returned to their rightful place, she became less certain of how they had previously sat in relation to each other. The clothes that were hanging up and the way the bins sat seemed messier than before but Callie couldn't figure out how to get the closet looking the way it did before. Crossing her fingers, she hoped that Stef and Lena wouldn't look closely enough to notice.

Her hand grazed the heavy metal gun safe as she put the last bin back and without a second thought, she punched in the numeric string as she had seen the cop do before. 548953#. The unit beeped and the electronic mechanism gave way before Callie truly recognized what she had done.

Regret set in immediately. Unlike some foster parents who kept their bedroom under lock and key, Stef and Lena always maintained an open door policy. As such, all the kids could come and go as they wanted. It was freeing, not having a locked door reminding them that the home was a business contract between the adults and the state.

However, it also meant that it hadn't been difficult to discern the code to the safe. Callie had found out the first week of the placement, the morning she sat on their bed as Stef got ready for work while Lena tried to find a pen to sign the textbook loan forms. Still wary of the cop and uncertain if the women were who they insisted they were, Callie had watched her unlock the safe and committed the code to memory in case of emergency.

Standing on her toes to peer inside, her heart pounded at seeing the outlines of the handgun, taser, magazines, cuffs, and keys split between the compartments of the dark metal unit. Although Callie knew that Stef was vigilant about keeping the weapon unloaded when it wasn't on her and she could clearly see that the magazine was not engaged, she was thrown off by the negative visceral reaction.

You're such a baby, she criticized herself. But there was no way she was putting her hand in there. It was the reason that those things existed—to maim and contain others—that creeped her out. Hastily closing the small door, Callie straightened the safe, making sure it sat parallel to the shelf's edge. She didn't care if Stef and Lena found out about her going through their room but this was one thing she really didn't want them to find out about.

As the familiar crinkle of thin ziploc caught her ear, Callie fumbled for the bag. She finally managed to retrieve it from where it was caught between the bottom of the unit and the rung of the coated metal shelf. Taking inventory, the teen was grateful to find that Stef hadn't thrown anything away; all the items had been shoved into the baggie, leaving it burgeoning.

Callie's relief and excitement were short lived as she realized how much shit she was going to be in. It'd only be a matter of time before Stef would find the hidden sandwich bag gone and when that happened, she'd know exactly who was responsible. So focused on trying to get a smoke, Callie hadn't thought about how she would do that once she found her stash. It had seemed like such an easy, foolproof plan initially but now she could see that she would be hard pressed to find another opportunity where she could be alone. Her best bet at this point was to climb out her window and up onto the roof after Stef and Lena were asleep—but nighttime was still hours away. She needed to deal with the stress now.

Suddenly hearing footsteps coming up the stairs, Callie emptied the bag and hastily stuffed the items into her pockets. Cigarettes and joints in one; rolling papers, multi tool, and lighter in the other. Though Stef would be mad when she found out, there was no way she was returning them to their hiding place—not after all that work.

She had just crumpled the plastic in her fist when the sound of the door being pushed open startled her.

Stef was automatically concerned by Callie's reaction when she entered the bedroom. The girl had jumped, spinning around to stare at her like a deer in the headlights. Her right hand was balled into a fist, which she immediately threw behind her back as soon as she saw the cop eyeing her suspiciously. Her left hand followed soon after. The most obvious flag though, was how full the front pockets of the overalls were.

The woman decided to cut to the chase without worrying about how accusatory she sounded for she was certain that Callie was up to something. "Want to tell me what's going on, sweets?"

"No." Worried at how defensive she sounded, the teen added unconvincingly, "Nothing's goin' on, Stef."

Right away, the cop noticed that something about the reply was off. Delivered a little too quickly for her liking, the inflection in Callie's voice belied the confidence she wished to portray and unintentionally phrased the 'no' as a question.

"Are you sure? You're pretty flushed. Are you feeling alright?" Stef asked, keeping her voice soft as she walked toward her daughter. She hoped that a more indirect, gentler approach would catch Callie off guard; it had worked like a charm the times she had caught her in a lie.

"You sure there isn't anything you would like to tell me?" she pressed as Callie stared at the floor, nervously shuffling in place. A dead giveaway that the girl was being dishonest.

"No—I mean, yeah," Callie insisted as the woman frowned. Stumbling over her words and desperate to get her panic under control, she told herself that all she needed to do was to get through Stef's lecture so she could escape to her room. Surely, she could manage that.

At hearing the familiar stammer, the cop grew stern. "Eyes up here, please," she instructed, bringing Callie's chin up with her forefinger so the girl couldn't avoid her gaze any longer.

The guilty expression was clearly telling her what the answer to her question should have been, but Stef wanted to give the teen another chance to come clean. "Are you being truthful with me right now?" she questioned. Her disappointment rose when the girl swallowed before nodding slowly.

As the cop fixed her with a level gaze, Callie knew that the chances of being able to get herself out of this hole weren't looking good. It would only be a matter of time before Stef found out; somehow, the cop always managed to figure out whenever she lied. While Callie understood very well that lying was against the rules, all she could focus on was self-preservation. Maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time and she'd fly under Stef's radar. She couldn't get into trouble for this too, not on top of everything else she had done to piss off the women.

Stef felt her annoyance increase. She had been hoping to come upstairs to make sure the girl was doing okay after their argument outside and to try and have a calm discussion about why she had run away. Expecting anything but this.

"Okay. Here's what's going to happen," she said in exasperation. "I'm going to give you one more chance to come clean. If you tell the truth about what you're hiding I will be lenient with your earlier answers and you won't get in trouble with me for lying. But if I have to work to find out what's going on myself—and believe me, I will find out—then I promise you, Callie, you are not going to be happy with me."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "It's up to you whether you want to make things easier or harder for yourself," she warned.

"I swear, I don't have anything," she mumbled. A last-ditch effort to evade the woman.

The cop smiled sadly as Callie paled, realizing she was doing a fine job at tripping herself up. "I didn't say you had anything…but if you don't, there's nothing to be worried about, is there?" Stef waited for the girl to nod reluctantly. "Glad we have an understanding. Now, let's see what you've got there," she said.

Callie's hands immediately flew out from behind her. "What? No! I didn't even do anything!"

"Then I'll have no reason to be upset with you," Stef said patiently. It was clear that the girl was not going to make things easy.

Not wanting another blowup but knowing whatever Callie was trying to hide was definitely something she needed to know about, she softened her tone. "What is it that you're wanting to hide from me, love?"

The messy state of the closet suddenly caught her attention. As Stef looked closer, she could see that clothes were hanging crookedly on their hangers, some of which were bunched together instead of evenly spaced out. Turning her attention to the rest of the bedroom she noticed that one of the dresser drawers was partly open while another had a sock protruding, as if hastily closed, something that annoyed Lena to no end. The pieces were slowly connecting together.

"Oh, Callie."

Her stomach dropped at the woman's quiet, disappointed tone confirming her fear; Stef not only knew she was lying but exactly what she was lying about.

"Let's try this again. This time, I want the truth. You can tell me in words or show me what you have that's so important to keep from me," Stef said firmly as her daughter's face reddened. The cop was pretty sure she already knew what was up, but wanted to give her a chance to come clean on her own.

"It's your choice. Otherwise I will search you so we can get this all over with," she stated calmly. "This is not up for debate."

"You can't do that!" Callie argued as she was forced to accept that she was running out of ways to stall the inevitable. Running wasn't even an option because the cop was right in the path of the doorway.

"Stef!" she huffed, gesturing flippantly to punctuate her name which immediately got the woman's back up. "That's like part of my person!"

"And this is—like—my house and you are my kid, whether you like it or not!" the cop snapped, her irritation growing with the girl's hardheadedness. God if thirteen was a window into fourteen and fifteen…

"This is bull! You always think the worst of me!" Callie yelled. She knew it was unfair but she was grasping at straws, saying anything she could think of to put off the moment Stef would find proof to confirm her suspicion.

Her emotions left her confused—because as much as she was sure her days with Stef and Lena were numbered, when it came down to it, she didn't want to leave their home. She didn't want to leave them. She didn't want to get into any more shit and be even more of a disappointment than she already was.

"That's not fair, sweetheart," Stef said, straightening at the accusation. "You know that is not true. Mama and I do not think the worst of you but you need to understand that trust is at an all time low," she explained gently. It was not hard to see the unhappiness and dread behind Callie's outburst. "We're having a hard time believing that you're able to make good decisions based on some of the ones you've made recently.

As tears pricked her eyes, Callie regretted playing that card; she hadn't expected how much it would hurt to hear that. It felt as though she had dug herself into a hole so deep that she would never be able to climb back out. Like she had lost hundreds of points in trust and would need to earn back the equivalent just to make it back to zero before she could start getting their trust back. So why even try when she knew it would be impossible?

Especially not if Stef and Lena could easily break their word about wanting to adopt her.

How long had the women planned on getting rid of her if she didn't do what they wanted? Had it always been in the back of their minds or was it a recent development?

She didn't want them to have that over her, to give them the chance to hurt her again. If they planned on sending her back, she'd rather have it be sooner than later—the longer things went on, the more it would hurt.

"Fine. Just fine, Stef!" she sassed, reaching into her pockets to empty them, letting the items drop to the floor one by one.

The cop forced herself to take a deep breath before looking down and shaking her head. Her kid was out of control.

Stressed, afraid, and in need of relief, Callie gave in to recklessness as her fingers wrapped around a joint. Looking Stef straight in the eye, she brought it up to her mouth while she fumbled for the lighter with her other hand. Before her foster mother could react, Callie lit the dooby and took her first hit.

Stef's pragmatic side told her that the girl was pushing their boundaries to see if she and Lena were serious about wanting her for the long haul. Thanks to therapy, she finally understood that Callie was lashing out in her grief, subconsciously threatened by the prospect that she and Lena would push Mom and Dad out of the picture. But even with this awareness, she was finding it difficult to keep it together.

"Hand it over, now," Stef demanded. She held out her palm, hoping her daughter would make the right decision this time. She had hoped that the edge in her voice would be enough to get Callie to comply; however, the teen only took another prolonged drag as she continued to glare at her.

"This is your final warning, Callie."

When the girl refused, Stef took another deep breath and marched over to where she was standing, fully prepared to snatch the joint from her mouth. In the length of time it took her to reach Callie, the teen took a bigger hit and directed a cloud of smoke in her direction—further testing her patience.

Callie, knowing full well that she was about to lose her dooby, turned away. In less than a second, she felt Stef swiftly grab her by her arm and pull her back to face her.

"Oh no you don't, young lady. You do not walk away from me. Not after something like this," Stef said, grabbing the offending item right from Callie's lips. She dropped it into a drinking glass left on the dresser before turning her attention once again at the unruly youth, who now looked completely despondent.

The woman cradled Callie's face between both palms. "I do not know what has gotten into you, but you have crossed the line one too many times today. I am beyond frustrated with you right now."

"I know that you are upset with Mama and I but you do not get to disrespect us by going through our belongings like that. You don't take things that I rightfully confiscated from you," she admonished.

Stef fixed her gaze on the teen as she pointed at the glass. "This is not an appropriate way to deal. You need to come to us if you feel bad. We will help you find another way to cope," she emphasized, her voice rising in annoyance. "Because this I won't tolerate, Callie. Getting high is not something I will tolerate in my home and I have no intention of letting you do that just because you are upset."

"What do you have to say for yourself? I want an explanation," she demanded.

Never did the woman expect an answer to come from the timed intrusion alarm on her gun safe.

Author Note:

Thank you so much for all your ideas and kind messages of encouragement. So impressed and grateful for the love, acceptance, and camaraderie I've discovered here. ~b'shert