Stef

"So," I say after we've driven for a few minutes in silence, "I have a question for you. One of the terms of your parole was that you had to attend group therapy. I spoke to Bill and my captain and if you would like, we could make them individual sessions instead of a group session."

"I'm not crazy." Callie says immediately.

I shake my head, "I never said you were, Sweets. I just want to make sure you are getting what you need. I'm leaving the choice up to you."

"I want to do group sessions."

What a surprise.

If it were up to me, I would put Callie into individual therapy. I'm sure the main reason she would prefer a group is because it will be easier for her to fly under the radar and get away with not sharing. Ultimately, I don't have final word. It's a combination of what the state wants, what Bill recommends and what Captain Roberts tells me to do.

"We can do that," I finally say, "But that doesn't mean I expect anything less than if you were doing one-to-one therapy. You need to talk to Dr. Kodema or you won't get anything out of therapy."

Callie mumbles something under her breath, "What was that?" I ask, taking my eyes off the road for a second to look at her. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her legs are crossed as well. She's slouched down in her seat and her head is against the window. Classic defensive-teenager stance.

"I said this is dumb," she repeats in a louder tone, her tone deliberate and hostile.

I count to three in my head and take a deep breath, "It's okay to feel that way, Callie, but like I said, this is to benefit you."

"Whatever."

I sigh, "Can we please lose the attitude?" The answer I get in return is a deadly glare. I shake my head and tighten my grip on the wheel. Fighting with her isn't worth the aggravation. She wants to see me lose my cool and I won't give her the satisfaction, because then I'll just be as good as every other foster parent she's ever lived with.

An hour and a half later and we're back home. Callie barely said two words to Dr. Kodema and I have a feeling this is what her therapy sessions will be like. We enter the house and I see Brandon and Jesus working on homework.

"Where's Jude?" Callie asks immediately.

Brandon gestures his head, "Kitchen." She walks away, no doubt to go find him and check to see if he's okay. She doesn't really trust us, of this I am certain.

"Oh, the bed is here." Brandon adds, using his pencil to point to the box on the living room floor.

I set my bag down on the table, "I'll probably need some help with that…"

"I can help!" Jesus volunteers in an instant, all but chucking his school books behind him as he stands up.

I shake my head with a smile. He'd be up to do just about anything that wasn't homework, "Fine, you can help. But when we're done we're doing that math homework together, okay?"

He flashes me a thumbs up and heads off to the garage to grab the tool bag.

Lena (a bit earlier…)

I'm putting the finishing touches on dinner when Jude strolls into the kitchen. He's looking around, taking in the scene as if it were his first time in here. His eyes shift to me and he looks as though he wants to say something, but can't form the words.

"What's up, Buddy?" I ask as I set a dish of vegetables on the table.

He shifts on his feet, "Well, I was wondering if you had any chores for me."

I furrow my eyebrows, "Chores?"

"Yeah," he says, taking a tentative step closer, "Usually, if a foster family isn't going to send us away right away, they give us chores and stuff."

Wow.

I mean, I understand having kids help out around the house but right off the bat? We just got Jude a bed yesterday for crying out loud and he's worried about chores? I haven't spoken in a while and I can see that it's making Jude anxious, "You know what I could use help with? The utensils." I reach into the drawer behind me and grab all the silverware we need and set it in a pile in front of Jude. He reached out and begins to place utensils for each person in their correct spot.

"So are you and Stef married?" Jude asks. His eyes are focused on the task at hand.

I tilt my head a bit, "No, not legally. I guess we're married in our hearts."

He looks up at me, "That's basically the same thing, right?"

Oh.

This boy is after my heart.

"Basically." I say, my entire body beaming with my smile. It's a beautiful thing to see: acceptance. At first I thought Callie was homophobic, but I quickly realized she was just looking for a fight. Clearly, my relationship with Stef isn't an issue for her and now I know 100% that it isn't for Jude, either.

Jude finishes setting the silverware just as Callie walks into the kitchen. His face lights up and he practically runs over to her, "You're back!" He sounds so relieved, as if there was a good chance Stef wouldn't bring her back. There's a tug at my heart as I think of this.

"Course I'm back," Callie smiles and nudges her brother's shoulder, "What are you up to?"

"Helping set the table," Jude turns around to face me, "Do you need any more help, Lena?"

I shake my head, "No thanks, Bud. I'll call you guys in a few minutes for dinner."

Jude turns back to his sister, "Can we start my book now?"

"Sure," Callie agrees and they disappear upstairs.

Callie

After dinner I pass by the kitchen and see Stef drying dishes. I shift awkwardly in the doorway. This far into a foster home, Jude and I would have chores by now and its weird that Stef and Lena haven't assigned us any. I feel like I should be doing something, instead of just lounging around. I want to seem useful; not just like a waste of space. It would make them more likely to keep us. I wage an internal battle with myself for a few minutes before finally pushing myself to enter the kitchen.

"Do you need any help?" I ask, trying not to appear as unsure of myself as I am.

Stef looks up from what she is doing somewhat surprised, "Sure, that'd be great." She points to a dishtowel before getting back to work. I walk over and pick it up. I take a mug from the dish rack and begin to dry it off.

"How are you?" Stef asks, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, "How are you settling in?"

I shrug, "Okay, I guess." I don't know why she constantly asks how I am, or how I'm feeling. It's unfamiliar and unsettling. I feel like she is planning something and I'm just not seeing it.

"You're good in Mariana's room?" she asks next.

"Yeah."

I've never been good at small talk. God, I wouldn't even be offering her help if I didn't want to get in her good graces for Jude's sake. We finish the rest of the dishes in silence and I start to leave but Stef stops me.

"Come sit for a minute, Callie." She says, patting the table with her hand. I take a seat across from her and look up at her expectantly, "I know seeing Dr. Kodema isn't the most ideal thing for you―"

"It's fine," I cut her off. I recall the conversation we hand in the car and I inwardly cringe at the harsh remarks I made about seeing Dr. Kodema, "Group therapy will be good for me. Sorry I called it dumb."

Stef gives me a look and is quiet for a moment before finally saying, "You don't…" she pauses, "You don't have to just say what you think I want to hear. You can have your own thoughts and opinions. You won't be penalized for being your own person." I can't help but snort at this.

Yeah right.

Being my own person has landed me in more trouble than I could count. Flying under the radar has been my best bet at survival and here Stef is telling me to 'be my own person.'

"Callie, I'm serious." Stef says, blue eyes piercing mine, "We have a lot of work ahead of us and we won't get anywhere if―"

"What kind of work?"

She presses her lips together. I know it annoys her when I just cut her off like that. Stef takes a breath, "You need to prove that you are a productive member of society. Remember that first day we met? I told you that your behavior will decide whether or not you go back to Chula Vista. We need to prove that you are trying your absolute hardest."

I put my elbows on the table and drop my head into my hands, "I am." I whisper. And that's the truth. If only Stef knew how hard I was trying. It's so difficult, though. Not to mention exhausting. Thinking about my every move before I make it as well as how what I say and do will affect Jude…

It's so much.

I feel on a hand on my back and I startle a bit. I didn't even hear Stef stand up to come sit beside me. I glance at her quickly and she is looking at me with such soft, kind eyes that I want nothing more than to throw my arms around her and never let go.

But I can't.

"I know you're trying, Sweets," she acknowledges in a soft tone and I almost lose it at the pet name, "I see the progress you're making. You're doing so well. Just keep it up and when the time comes to write your progress report, you'll pass with flying colors. Okay?" She ducks her head a bit and smiles, waiting for me to respond. I nod, because I don't trust myself to talk right now. I've never had someone have so much faith in me since my mom and it's an empowering feeling. Stef's hand on my back and her kind eyes and smile make me feel like I can move mountains. At this moment, I want to do nothing more than prove to her I can be good and that I don't ever have to go back to juvie.

"Okay."

Guys. Remember that fire I mentioned a few chapters back? Ever since then, my water has either been freakishly hot or freakishly cold. Right now it's freakishly cold and it's been three days! I haven't taken a proper shower in THREE DAYS. I need hot water like, yesterday.

On a happier note, I'm pumped for The Fosters tomorrow and want to see how Jude is doing. I finished my first week of camp with only sunburned lips, a cut on my toe and scratches on my arm so I'd say we had a good week.

I have an idea as to where this story will go. Callie WILL tell Stef about Liam, soon. The road I'm going to take after that is something I've been thinking of for a while.

Please review!

-Liv