I don't want to be here for more questions when Lena comes back, so I grab my towels and head for the bathroom, which is, thankfully, empty. I make sure the door is locked, and that no one can see through the keyhole, before I start to undress. There's a mirror in here. I wish there wasn't. I try to ignore it as I run the water for the bath, but when I stand up and catch sight of my body, I can't help but wince. I have a black eye, a split lip, and some mottled bruising on my cheek and forehead. My body is covered in purple patches. A particularly nasty one on my side reminds of the one I came into Juvie with; the one that Frank gave me. The thought of Frank brings me to my senses, and I rush to turn off the water before the tub fills very high. I don't know if these people would get angry about the water bill, but I don't really want to risk it.

I lower myself into the water, flinching slightly at the heat. It burns, but it soothes too. I lie down, letting it soak through my hair, feeling my hair fan out slightly around me.

I wonder if this is what my hair would do if I drowned.

I wash my hair and sit up, and the parts of my body not covered by the water break out in chills. I pull my knees close to my chest, for warmth, for comfort. I rock slightly back and forth.

My mom used to give me baths when I was little. Sometimes Jude and I would share a bath so we could use less water. She had this little red cup that she used to pour water over his head. I remember the way she put her hand above his eyes, like she was shading them so he could look for something. That way the soap never got in them.

He was 6 when we moved into our first foster home, and I taught him how to shower. But the soap got in his eyes a lot.

Something on the wall catches my eye and I turn to look. There are four small colorful stickers on the wall. They're cartoon creatures. Two smiling starfish, a sea horse, and the biggest one…a turtle. I know that turtle. It's on Jude's backpack. Skippy.

I reach out and trace it with my fingers.

Jude.

My eyes start to fill with tears again. I pull my knees tighter to my chest and rest my chin on my knees.

It's the closest thing I have to a hug.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I get out of the bathtub and dry off. I know what to do. I put on some clothes Stef gave me to sleep in and go downstairs. I know where it is. I saw it earlier. I walk quietly into the kitchen and stop. Mariana is there, fiddling with something. She puts it in a basket, and places the basket back on a high shelf. The basket rattles as she lifts it, and I've been around long enough that I'm pretty sure what it holds. She turns around and sees me standing there, arms crossed, watching her, and quickly says "I needed some water."

Right. Water. From the basket on the shelf. There's a good cover story.

She leaves the kitchen and I go and lift the basket down. Inside it is a mostly empty bottle of pills. I don't recognize the name, but it says on the label that it's for "Jesus Foster-Severe Attention Deficit Disorder." I almost want to laugh. I've been in this house five hours and I've already seen a skeleton in the family closet. I wonder if Jesus knows.

I put the bottle back in the basket, and the basket back on the shelf. It's not what I came here for.

I turn around and look at a different shelf on the other side of the kitchen. My heart sinks. The phone is gone. Only the empty cradle is left. I look around the room for it, but I know it could be anywhere. There's only one thing to do. I make my way upstairs as quietly as I can, sticking to the edges of the floorboards so that they won't creak. I'm lucky I've had so many years of learning to tread lightly. Well, kind of.

Everyone is in their room. Mariana's door is closed. She's probably on her phone, anyway. Jesus is playing video games with his headphones on, and I can't see his phone anywhere. That leaves Brandon. His door is open and he has on headphones that are plugged into a keyboard. A musician. Figures. I look around and my heart leaps. It's right on the nightstand by the door. Slowly I reach in and pluck the cellphone off the table, then turn around and head back down the hall. The floorboard creaks. I wince and hide the phone in the waistband of my pajamas, but no one is following. I go downstairs as fast as I dare and dial the number for Frank's house. I'm praying to every god I've ever heard of that he's not home.

"Hello?" Relief washes through me so fast that I want to cry.

"Hey, hey baby, it's me," I say quickly, knowing we have to keep this short. If Frank catches Jude talking to me…

"Callie?" Jude sounds so happy, I want to reach through the phone and hug him.

"Yeah, I'm out and I'm coming, I promise, Jude, I just got to figure out how to get there."

"Are you okay?" Jude asks.

"I'm fine, I'm okay, are you all right? Is he hurting you?"

"Not really. Just once when I dropped a dish. I'm okay, Callie. I miss you."

I think my heart is breaking.

"I miss you too, baby. I'm coming as soon as I can."

"Will you take me with you?"

"Yes. Pack your backpack okay?"

"I love you Callie."

"I love you too. I'll see you soon."

I hang up the phone. I'm so angry I want to hurl it through the window. He hurt him, again. And I wasn't there to stop it.

I don't care if it means being in prison for the rest of my life. I am going to get Jude out of there.

Tomorrow.