Chapter 8.

Callie

A week passed, and I didn't have another night terror. Stef and Lena didn't mention it again, either. I took it as a good sign. School was going okay, and I was starting to learn the ropes. I even made a new friend, a girl named Emma. She was a jock, and I didn't have an athletic bone in my body. And she was a straight A student, while I barely managed to scrape by. But she was friendly and fun.

We were sitting in English, and the teacher, Timothy, was talking about guilt. A subject I knew all about.

"For your assignment," he said, "I want you to write in your journals about something you feel guilty about in your own life. Something that's been bothering you. Anything at all."

Yeah. That was gonna happen. To confirm my skepticism, Emma turned to me and rolled her blue eyes.

"No one will read what you've written but you," Timothy said in his smooth English accent. "So, I want you to free yourselves on paper. I guarantee you'll feel so much better once you get the words out."

It was like my hand had a mind of it's own. Across the top of the paper, I wrote in neat print, The Brian Thing.

The bell rang just then. Emma joined me, and we walked to lunch together. "Is he serious?" she asked. "Like I'm going to spill my deepest, darkest secrets to a guy who wears mandals."

I snorted a giggle. "I know, right?"

"You know what?" she went on. "I think I'm going to write something really embarrassing and made up, just to see if I can get a rise out of him."

"Like what?" I asked, biting my lip, which had finally started to scab over and heal.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it yet."

"He said he wasn't going to read what we write," I reminded her. We found a table in the cafeteria, and sat down. I opened the lunch Lena had packed for me. The napkin had a note scrawled on it, like it did every day. Have a great day! XOXO Lena.

Emma laughed. "He said that. But I bet he does. Maybe I should write something juicier, like a murder confession." She grabbed my notebook from my stack of books. "What do you have so far? Maybe I can get some ideas."

"Hey, give that back!" I said, a little more panicked than I should have been.

"Relax, Cal," she said, handing my notebook back to me. "You only have three words written. What's 'The Brian Thing'?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I said, taking a bite of my sandwich.

"Was Brian your boyfriend?" she asked.

I almost gagged on my food. "No. Not at all." I set my sandwich down and pushed it away, my appetite suddenly gone.

Emma studied my pale face. "Hey, don't worry about it. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. It's cool."

"Thanks," I smiled.

Before I went to my next class, I erased those three words I'd written.

That night was also Sophia's first sleepover ever. Her friend Taylor was coming over to spend the night, and she was so excited to do 'normal girl stuff,' as she called it.

I was lying on my stomach on my bed when she came into the room, staring at my blank notebook. We'd separated our beds earlier in anticipation of the sleepover, and Taylor was due over in a few hours.

"What are you doing?" she asked, flopping down on the bed beside me.

"Homework," I mumbled, chewing on my pencil eraser.

"But the page is empty," she observed.

"I know," I said. "We're supposed to write about something that we feel guilty about."

"Are you going to write about you know what?" she asked, locking her eyes on me.

"Nah," I assured her. "You know I wouldn't take a risk like that."

Sophia slipped off the bed and got the notebook I'd given her the day we got placed with Stef and Lena. The black and white cover was worn. It had my name written on it, but she'd crossed it out and written Sophia Jacob right below it. She flipped it open and laid it on top of my notebook. "Look."

I let my eyes skim over my sister's loopy handwriting:

'I still remember everything about that night. My sister went out to meet Ben, and I promised to cover for her. I was doing the dinner dishes, and Brian came into the kitchen. He told me had something...'

I stopped reading. I didn't need to go on. I knew what the rest of it said. I saw it in my nightmares every night. "Get rid of that."

"But you said I could write about it in here," she argued. "Remember?"

"I don't think it's a good idea now," I said. "What if your friend finds it? Or what if Mariana or somebody reads it? Brandon comes in here all the time to get his stuff."

"Writing about it makes me feel better," she protested.

With a sigh, I tore the pages out of the notebook and ripped them to shreds. Sophia gave my an angry look, but I didn't care. "Listen, Soph. You like it here, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"You like Stef and Lena, right?"

"Yeah." She swiped away a tear with her thumb.

"They'll send us away if they read this," I explained. "And this is too good of a home to loose. Okay?"

"Okay," she said.

I threw the paper, which was now reduced to confetti, into the wastebasket. "Come here." I grabbed her up in my arms and gave her a tight bear-hug. "I love you, baby. I'm only trying to protect you, because I want you to have a safe home. If you do what I say, we'll be fine." I gave her a kiss and buried my nose in her hair.

"I love you too," she said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I pulled her back and hugged her again. "You didn't know. Now, let's go get ready for your sleepover!"

Taylor came over at six-thirty. Sophia ran to the door to greet her. "Come in," my sister said, taking her friend by the hand. "Stef and Lena are letting us make our own pizzas!"

"Why do you call your moms by their first names?" Taylor asked. I wondered if Sophia had told Taylor that Stef and Lena were her moms, or if she just hadn't told her she was a foster kid.

Sophia paused, looking uncomfortable. "They're not my real moms. They're my foster moms."

Taylor nodded. "That's cool. What happened to your real mom?"

"She died," she admitted, just as Mariana cut in.

"How would you girls like me to give you mani-pedis after dinner?"

Even though our foster sister hadn't been very welcoming to us, I gained some respect for her, then. "Thank you," I mouthed. She gave me a knowing smile.

"That's my foster sister, Mariana," Sophia pointed out. She came over and took my hand. "And this is my sister, Callie."

Taylor waved shyly. "Hey."

"Welcome, Taylor," said Lena, smiling happily as she came into the room. "We're really glad to have you over."

"Thanks," she said.

Going into the kitchen, Sophia introduced her friend to Stef, Jesus, and Brandon. "You're so lucky!" I heard Taylor say.

"I am?" Sophia asked, disbelief written all over her face. She didn't hear that too often.

"Yeah," the other girl nodded. "It's just me and my parents. I've always wanted to be in a big family. And Vice Principal Adams is so cool."

"The coolest," Stef chipped in with a smile.

"Yeah," Sophia nodded. "She is."

After dinner, a sundae bar, mani-pedis, and a movie, the girls came up to our room. I was still trying to decide what to write about in my journal for timothy's assignment. I'd considered writing about the time I stole a pack of bologna from the grocery store. But I didn't really feel guilty about that. Sophia and I were hungry.

I closed my notebook. I was about ready to throw it out the window. "I'll get out," I told the girls. I grabbed my hairbrush, and my pillow and blanket. I was going to sleep on the couch so Taylor could have my bed.

Stef peeked in as I was about to leave. "Just thought I'd come in and say goodnight. Mama and I are heading to bed soon, so try to keep it down to a dull roar tonight, okay girls?"

Sophia and Taylor giggled. "Okay."

"Goodnight," she said.

I said goodnight to them too, adding an "I love you" for Sophia.

Stef followed me to the living room. "Do you have enough blankets, love?"

"I think so," I said. I smiled at her. "Thank you. For doing this for Sophia. It really means a lot to her. I can't remember the last time I saw her so happy."

Stef sat down beside me on the couch. "We're glad to do it, honey. I think Lena and I are having more fun than the girls are."

"Still," I said. "Most foster families wouldn't go through this much trouble."

"Well, we like to do it up big around here," she said. "And we're not most foster families."

"I know," I agreed.

"You can have friends over too, Callie," she told me. "Any time."

I nodded, thinking it might be fun to have Emma over to study. I knew she had a crush on Jesus, so she'd probably jump at the chance.

"Callie, what happened to your birth parents?" Stef asked me.

I inhaled and exhaled, trying to keep away the shaky feeling I got whenever I thought about my mother. "My mom died in a car accident," I explained. "My dad was driving drunk. The people in the other car died too, so he went to prison for manslaughter."

"That must have been so hard on you girls," she breathed, giving me that soft, mothering look of hers. "I'm so sorry, baby."

I nodded. "Sophia barely remembers her. She was only six." I picked up my hairbrush and pulled it through my hair.

"You must remember her, though."

"Yeah," I said. "But it's getting harder and harder."

"Time does that," Stef told me. She took my brush from my hand. "May I?"

"Okay," I said.

She positioned herself behind me and brushed my hair with long strokes, gently working out each tangle. Just like my mother used to do. "There," she said. She gave me a serious look, cupping my chin in her hand. "You know that Lena and I care about you and your sister very much, right?"

I shrugged. "Yes."

"Just thought I'd remind you," she smiled. She gave me a hug. "Goodnight, slug-a-bug. If you need anything, just call."

Stef

"Honey, do you hear something?" Lena asked.

I opened my eyes and strained my ears to listen. I did hear something. A muffled whimpering. "It might be Callie. I'll go check on her." I rolled out of bed and went downstairs.

Sure enough, Callie was tossing and turning, crying in her sleep. It was very much the same scene as a week ago; it chilled me, just as much as it had the first time. "Sweetheart," I whispered, going to her. "You need to wake up."

"Get it off," she sobbed, rubbing her arms. "Please!"

"What is going on in that little head of yours?" I asked her quietly. "I wish you would tell us." I reached out to touch her arm, and she jerked away, so hard that she fell off the couch.

"Callie," I cried, crouching down next to her. The fall seemed to have shocked her out of her night terror, and she looked up at me, frightened. "Love, are you okay?" I asked.

She nodded, giving me a confused look. "What happened?"

"You fell, honey," I told her gently. "You had a nightmare." I noticed that her arms were pink and scratched, where she had been rubbing at them. "Do you remember any of it?"

"No," she told me, shaking her head. "I don't."

"Come on," I said. "Get back into bed, honey."

She climbed back on the couch, and I sat on the edge and took her hand. "Would you like me to stay with you until you fall asleep?"

"Could you?" she asked. Her tears were drying on her cheeks.

"I'd be glad to," I said, patting her hand. "Close you eyes now. I'm right here."

When I woke up, I was slumped over Callie. I couldn't remember when I'd dozed off, but I must have. Getting up carefully, I left her sleeping, and went to the kitchen.

"Something smells yummy," I said, taking a deep breath.

"My famous chocolate chip pancakes," Lena said, turning to me.

Sophia and Taylor were already at the table, eating breakfast. "Did you girls just get up?" I asked them.

"Yeah," Sophia said. I looked at the clock. It was almost eleven, and I assumed they'd stayed up half the night, giggling.

Lena passed me a full plate, and I sat down at the table. I'd just poured myself a glass of orange juice, and was reaching for the syrup, when my phone rang. I looked down at the screen. It was Mike.

"Hey," I said. "What's up?"

"Hey," he said. "What'cha doing?"

"Just sitting down to breakfast," I replied. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"I just wanted to tell you," he began. "I remembered where I've seen those girls you're fostering."

"Really?" I asked, taking the phone into the laundry room for privacy.

"I answered a call at their place a while back. I don't know how I could have forgotten. The little one?"

"Sophia?" I watched my foster daughter smiling and eating pancakes with her friend.

"Yeah," he said. "Sophia. She shot her foster father."

To Be Continued