Stef

"So here is how it's going to go down." Callie and I are sitting across from Bill one afternoon. I picked everyone up right when school let out and dropped them home so that the two of us could make this appointment, "The girl that the Olmsteads were fostering has been removed pending the investigation. Liam was notified of the charges being pressed against him. The next step is a pretrial to see if this is going anywhere."

Callie's eyebrows knit together, "Why would it not go anywhere?"

"It's been two years," Bill replies shaking his head, "There's no evidence…it might not fly with the judge."

Callie sighs and slumps a bit in her chair. I reach over to put my hand on her knee, "I'll talk to the D.A.," I let Bill know, "I'll see what he can do for us. Callie, could you please wait outside for a minute?" She gives me a suspicious look and I try to convey the words 'trust me' without actually speaking them aloud. He finally nods and heads out to the lobby of the office. With her gone, I turn back to Bill.

"Where does Liam live?"

Bill shakes his head, "Stef, I can't just give you his address so you can go on some vigilante quest―"

"That's not why I asked," I tell him, although that's a bit of a lie, "I want to know so that I can keep Callie safe. What if he gets angry about the charges and wants to retaliate? I want…a restraining order, or something of the sort."

He rubs his face, "You of all people should know that we can't just get a restraining order put on somebody when they haven't done anything―"

"Haven't done anything?!" I explode, unable to keep the anger from bubbling out, "He raped her, Bill. He raped Callie."

"So she says."

He can't be serious.

"You think she's making this up?" I ask incredulously. Bill pauses and my eyes widen, "Oh my god…"

"Can you blame me?" he asks, "Callie has proven to be pretty unreliable."

I stand up, not about to listen to this nonsense anymore, "You do your part, Bill, and I'll do mine." I leave without another word. I can't believe he would show the smallest shadow of doubt in regard to Callie's word. It's not fair.

I spot Callie sitting on a bench, her Converse clad foot tapping nervously as she waits for me. I know it made her nervous when I asked her to leave the room and she's probably spent all this time obsessing over what we were talking about. As soon as she sees me she stands up.

"What did you guys talk about?" she asks as soon as I am within earshot. I was expecting this.

I shrug a bit, leading the way out of the building, "Just some procedural manners. I thought I'd spare you the boredom."

Callie nods a little, and I know she wants to know more, but she doesn't ask. I think this is her trying to trust me. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and hug her to me, "How much homework do you have?"

"Not a lot," she answers, "Why?"

"Let's go somewhere."

We end up at the beach, the one right off of the kids' school. We leave our shoes in the car and walk barefoot in the sand. Callie is taking in the scenery with great interest. Her eyes dart around, trying to absorb everything at once and it's like she's a lot younger than she is. It's sad that something like the beach is so foreign to her. I can't imagine any foster parents taking her and Jude to the beach to just have a fun day.

I watch as she takes her phone from her pocket and begins to snap some photos. The way she takes the pictures isn't like some teenager who just wants a nice Instagram pic; she focuses on the task at hand with immense care and attention. She studies the photo afterwards for some time after she takes it. I sit on a bench and simply watch. With every passing moment, Callie looks more and more relaxed. She looks as though she is completely in her element. She looks like someone who didn't have to dedicate the last six years of their life to raising their younger sibling. She looks like someone who hasn't been dragged through the depths of hell.

She looks like a sixteen year old girl.

Callie finally makes her way over to me after spending around fifteen minutes taking pictures. She takes a seat next to me and begins to scroll through her camera roll. I let her go through her pictures before asking, "Could I see?"

She hands the phone over without the slightest hesitation and it's all I can do to not break out in a happy dance at the level of comfort she is showing with me. I tap on the first photo and it's all I have not to gasp.

It's amazing.

I continue going through the photos and they just get better. Callie took pictures mostly of the horizon but there are also pictures of the sky, the sand, some seagulls and some trees. She caught the sun just right in each picture and they look nearly professional.

"Callie," I finally breathe, "These pictures are phenomenal, Honey."

She looks surprised, "Really?"

"Yes, really!" I say, bumping her shoulder with mine, "You have a gift. Is this something you like? Photography?"

She shrugs a little, "I guess." Her voice conveys disinterest but her eyes tell me another story.

An idea pops in my head, "How about photography club? That could be an extracurricular for you to get involved in."

Callie perks up a bit, "They have that at Anchor Beach?" I nod, "Okay. Yes." She's biting her lip but I can see the smile she is trying to hide. I can tell she's excited and I'm excited for her.

I grin and hand her phone back.

Callie

When I get home from the beach with Stef, I head upstairs so I can do the little homework I have left. When I enter Mariana's room, I see that she is sitting with Jude, hunched over a book.

"…so then you just have to convert the improper fraction and then you're all good." I hear Mariana saying. They both look up when I come into the room.

Jude smiles, "Hi, Callie! Mariana is helping me with my math homework. She's really good."

Mariana flips her hair with a playful smile, "It's one of my strong suits."

I force a smile, "That's great bud."

Fan-freaking-tastic.

When did this happen? When did Mariana become Jude's go-to homework helper instead of me? I feel the jealousy creeping in the edge of my mind and I try to shove it down because Mariana doesn't have any bad intentions. None of the Fosters do. It's just going to take some getting used to.

"Do you need any more help?" I ask shifting on my feet.

"Nope!" Jude replies happily as he stands up and takes his book with him, "We finished all the problems. Thanks, Mari!" and he disappears from the room.

Mari? How cute.

Not.

I pinch myself. Stop getting so jealous, Callie. It's not that big a deal.

I hear a rummaging noise and snap out of my thoughts to see Mariana digging out some nail polish bottles. She sees me watching and hold up the colors for me to see.

"I could do yours." She offers.

"Okay."

We're sitting on Mariana's bed, waiting for our nails to dry. She chose a light shade of pink.

I chose black.

"You painted Jude's nails," I say, breaking the silence, "Why?"

She shrugs, "He wanted me to. Does that bother you?"

I look down at my nails. I think they're dry now, "Boys don't wear nail polish."

"Not usually, no," she agrees, "But why not?"

"Because it makes him stand out," I reply, "It makes him different."

"Jude is already different."

I stand up, "What does that mean?" I ask. I give her a look to tell her she should choose her next words very carefully.

Mariana sighs, "Callie…"

"What makes Jude different gets him beat up," I reply, pacing the length of the room, "You painting his nails is only giving the kids at school something to pick on him for."

"You guys are safe here," Mariana says quietly, standing up as well, "We're the last people to be judging anybody."

"It's not you guys I'm worried about," I say, shaking my head, "It's the seven billion other people who don't live here. People are mean, Mariana. Really, really mean."

She chuckles, "Callie, I was in the system too. Trust me, I know."

Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that.

Mariana continues, "I'm just saying, if Jude wants to paint his nails and read my magazines…it's cool. We don't care. We want him to be happy just as much as you do." I mull her words over for a bit. It's more than nice; it's like a hallelujah chorus. For once in a really long time, Jude and I are being told it's okay to be who we are instead of being told to be quiet and stay out of sight.

I hold out my nails to Mariana, "I think you were right. Black is a little too dark. I think you should do the silver glitter on top."

She grins, because me letting her use glitter polish is big.

It means we're friends.

Stef

I've noticed that Callie actually allowed Mariana to do her nails. Even I find myself shying away from Mariana's glamourizing ways. Lena is better with that kind of stuff. Always was. I also noticed that Mariana painted Jude's nails. I don't know if Jude is gay or not. Maybe the kid just likes nail polish. Who am I to label? Clearly I don't have good gaydar; I didn't even know about myself.

That's saying something.

It's still early in the morning and I'm the first one up. I head downstairs to the kitchen with the intention of pouring myself a cup of coffee when I notice Jude sitting at the kitchen table. The air smells faintly of nail polish. He's hunched over the table, carefully painting his left pointer finger. He hears me enter the kitchen and startles so badly I'm afraid he's going to fall off the stool.

"Sorry, Sweets!" I apologize, hands out ready to catch him, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay!" He says, "I was…I was just…" He stutters, looking down at the bottle of nail polish. He bites his lip, much like his sister, and doesn't say any more.

I take a seat next to him, "Doing a touch-up?"

Jude looks up at me, as if waiting for my reaction. I reach over for the nail polish and take out the brush, wiping the excess polish off on the lip of the bottle. I hold out my hand and Jude places his in my palm, "Mariana is the expert nail painter in the house, but I think I'm okay. Not that I do my own nails very often. But I paint sometimes. That's almost the same thing, yeah?"

Jude smiles, "Yeah. You're doing pretty good." He comments as he watches me paint his nails. I'm trying to be precise and careful.

I finish the nails that need to be touched up and close the bottle of nail polish. Jude holds his hands up in front of his face and expects my handiwork, "How did I do?" I ask.

"Good," he answers, "Not as good as Mariana…" I glare at him and he laughs because he knows I'm joking.

"Let those dry a bit before you start getting ready," I advise him as I stand up and head for the fridge, "What do you want for breakfast?"

Jude looks at me a bit wide-eyed, "Me?"

I shrug, "Well, the ghost that usually haunts the house is off on a business trip so…"

Jude laughs, "Um…French toast?" He says it very hesitantly, as if he's afraid I'll say no.

I smile, "French toast is perfect. You'll be in charge of supervising the pans because I don't want you messing up your nails." Jude nods and sits quietly while I pull out all of the ingredients I'm going to need.

"Stef?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you." The way Jude says it, I know he's not just saying thank you for the French toast.

"Of course, Buddy," I say in response, "Of course."

I'm sitting at my desk, staring intensely at the papers that lay before me. They're progress reports: one for Bill, one for Dr. Kodema, and one for Sanchez. Sanchez will have the longest one to fill out. She has to get comments from every one of Callie's teachers as well as a transcript of Callie's grades thus far.

It's her report that is giving me the most anxiety.

I have to send them out by the end of the week latest so that they can send them back to me and I can type up a consolidated report for Roberts. My report will determine whether it's worth it to have Callie on probation or if she should be thrown back in juvie.

God.

I reach for my mug and take a long sip. My eyes scan my desk and land on the cluster of picture frames I have near the corner. They're pictures of Lena, Brandon and the twins. I run my finger delicately over a picture of the five of us sitting on the steps of the house. A nice family picture…and yet I feel like there's something missing. I shake my head to clear, before I get to deep into my thoughts. My phone beeps and I look down to see I have a text from Callie.

Callie: Lena has to stay at school late so after photography club I'm just going to walk home. She told me to tell you.

Stef: Okay. Text me to see if I'm off from work when you're done. I might be able to pick you up.

Callie: Okay.

Stef: Why are you on your phone? Shouldn't you be in class?

Callie: I am in class.

Stef: But you're texting me. Do you think that's the right thing to be doing?

Callie: Idk

Stef: Callie, you need to pay attention.

Callie: Idc

Stef: You really want to see me pop a blood vessel, huh?

Callie: :) see you later

Callie

Photography club is actually okay. The other kids in it aren't self-absorbed and materialistic. They're down to earth and actually pretty cool. The school is loaning us cameras; professional, expensive cameras. They have to stay at school unless the adviser gives us the okay to sign them out.

Maybe one day I can have my own camera.

I begin the walk home. It's 4:00 and still sunny outside. Of course there is nobody to be seen. As soon as the final bell rings, kids and teachers all but jump into moving vehicles to get the hell out of here. Nobody wants to be around so much structure anymore than they have to. Especially me. Sometimes it reminds me of when I was back in juvie.

I hear the engine of a car behind me and don't pay it much mind. Of course there'd be a car on the road; what's new there. I keep my eyes forward and keep walking. The car slows down a bit behind me before speeding up and screeching to a halt haphazardly in the middle of the street, right when I'm about to cross. I stop walking, startled. This car looks familiar. It looks like…

I immediately whirl around with the intention of running back into the school to Lena, but he grabs me by the backpack and jerks me back. I turn around to look at the face of someone I thought I wouldn't have to worry about again.

Liam.

"You just couldn't keep your goddamn mouth shut," he growls menacingly, eyes narrowed dangerously.

I turn around to run away but he grabs me by my wrists and pulls my close. I gasp and try to pull away but he's too strong, "Let go of me!"

"You'd better listen to me, Callie," he demands, pulling me so that I'm inches from his face, "You'd better tell the police that you're a fucking liar. I got cops coming to my house saying they're pressing charges against me. Because of YOU!" I flinch as he raises his voice, "You'd better tell them that you made this shit up. I'm not going to have my name slandered because you're being a little bitch, do you understand?!"

I nod and he shoves me to the ground. I stand up slowly on shaky legs and watch as he stalks back to his car. He rips the door open and slams it shut. He makes a screeching U-turn and stops right next to me, "You'd better make this right or so help me…" He lets the threat linger and speeds off.

I waste no time in making a mad dash for the school.

Sorry! I would have updated a lot earlier but FanFiction was being wonky with updates and plus I lost my USB drive for a few minutes. It has all my pertinents and such. I move in to NYU this Sunday. I'm buying a lot of last minute stuff. I spent close to $300 of my own, hard-earned money today. It was depressing/satisfying.

I might not be able to update until middle of next week. It depends on how busy I am and if I can find the time.

Love you all!

-Liv

P.S.- Someone asked a while ago if I was looking into writing as a major. I want to be an international lawyer (deal with human rights). I LOVE writing and it's something I don't plan on giving up. Maybe as a minor…