Ryan adjusted the collar of his mercifully un-scuffed leather jacket, the nicest piece of clothing he owned. Dressing in layers served the dual purposes of warmth and disguising how skinny he was. If there was one thing Ryan couldn't stand, it was pity. He would get that in spades at a youth shelter, assuming, of course, they weren't over capacity. He had just enough change to call his public defender, Sandy Cohen, from a phone booth to explain what had happened

"Where are you right now?" asked Sandy.

Ryan looked up at the street signs and gave Sandy a rough address.

"Okay, don't move from there and I'll see what I can do."

Ryan stood at the corner, expecting a vehicle with a Child Services decal to come along. He was surprised when Sandy pulled up to the curb and helped Ryan put his backpack in the trunk. He explained that he hadn't been able to reach anyone at the Chino social services office and asked if Ryan would be comfortable spending a few days with Sandy's family.

Ryan shrugged. "I guess so. Thanks."

Once in the passenger seat, Ryan didn't say another word to Sandy. He kept one blue eye fixed on the older man. Getting Ryan out of juvie had, of course, been Sandy's job as his lawyer. Nobody other than his ex Theresa had ever given him a place to stay when things got bad at the Atwood residence. Sandy didn't seem like he had any ulterior motives, but one thing Ryan had learned in his sixteen years was that you could never be too sure about anyone.

The radio, set to a classic rock station on low, provided the only sounds in the car. Ryan watched as the liquor stores with bullet-proof windows became fewer and farther between. A slight breeze from the open window ruffled his hair. The indistinct smells coming from restaurants they passed made Ryan's mouth water so much he had to swallow. A telltale headache was beginning to settle in behind his eyes. While waiting to be released from juvie, Ryan had been a given a sack lunch consisting of a bologna sandwich on stale bread, a small carton of milk, and a mealy, bruised apple. He shoved his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt, hoping that his stomach would stay quiet.

"You can roll that window up if you're cold," said Sandy.

"No, I'm okay." Ryan gave a yawn that wasn't entirely fake. "Just kinda tired, I guess. Didn't get much sleep last night."

"I can imagine not. You may not tonight, either, come to think of it. My son, Seth, he's about your age and he's up all hours playing video games. I think you guys'll get along." Sandy checked his watch. "We'll be at my house in about another hour. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay, Mr. Cohen."

"Call me Sandy."

Ryan nodded. He must have drifted off somehow, because next thing he knew, he was smelling salt air and looking up at the biggest house he'd seen outside of MTV Cribs.

"I'll be right back," Sandy promised, turning off the ignition and taking the keys. "Just gotta clear this with my wife."

Ryan got out of the car to stretch his legs. He patted his jacket pockets, hunting for his cigarettes and lighter. Smoking on an empty stomach never made him feel too good, but that was kind of the point right now...just in case Sandy's wife told him to send Ryan packing. Ryan honestly wouldn't blame her if she did...

"You brought him here"?" Kirsten asked incredulously.

"Child Services was closed by the time Ryan called me," Sandy explained. "What was I supposed to do-hang up on him?"

"Of course not!"

"It's only for a little while," Sandy promised. "I'll call Child Services as soon as they open on Monday morning. I know Ryan's made some mistakes, but he's just a kid. Honey, what if this was Seth?"

"I guess Ryan can sleep in the pool house," Kirsten conceded with a sigh.

Sandy raised an eyebrow. "Should I bring him a glass of water and a crust of bread for dinner?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" she scoffed at her husband.

Flirting with Marissa from next door had proved to be a welcome distraction while Ryan waited for Sandy to come back and announce his verdict. When the front door finally opened, Sandy popped the trunk of his car to get Ryan's backpack.

"Rule one, there's no smoking in this house," he said.

Ryan immediately ground out his cigarette in the driveway.

Sandy clapped the teenager's shoulder as they walked toward the house. "Hey, Ryan. Let's see about gettin' you some dinner, huh? Seth probably took care of all the leftovers, but there's a drawer of takeout menus with our names on 'em. What do you like to eat?"

"I, uh, I don't have any money," Ryan said embarrassedly.

"That's not what I asked. C'mon, I bet you're starving."

"You don't have to go to any trouble. I can wait for breakfast, I promise."

As they climbed the front steps, Ryan's stomach growled so loudly that there was no way for either of them to pretend they didn't hear it. He felt his cheeks getting redder.

"Ryan, as your attorney, I highly recommend you not get involved in any more crimes until you learn to lie a hell of a lot better than that," Sandy said with a kind smile, opening the door. "Ryan, this is my wife. Kirsten, this is Ryan."

"Nice to have you here." Ryan thought her grin looked a little strained. "The kitchen's this way."

Ryan followed her. Sandy started to make himself more comfortable, ditching his tie on the counter and rolling up his shirt sleeves. He pulled open a drawer and removed a thick stack of takeout menus for Ryan to look through. Kirsten gave her husband the magnetic pad and pen from the fridge.

"Where's Seth?" asked Sandy, realizing he hadn't been in the living room when they walked in.

"Upstairs," Kirsten replied. "He was out in the sun teaching sailing lessons all day, so he went to bed early."

Ryan skimmed a Chinese menu; China Sun back home was cheap and delivered quick. Sure, he was usually hungry again a couple hours later, but he planned on being asleep before that happened. The takeout prices in Newport Beach were set with a different tax bracket in mind. With his tongue between his teeth, Ryan scribbled a couple of the less expensive items on the notepad, then slid it across the counter.

"You want anything, sweetie?" Sandy asked Kirsten.

When she shook her head, he picked up the phone and ordered what sounded to Ryan like enough Chinese food to have a party.

"20 minutes, half hour tops," he reported.

Sandy grabbed a can of Coke and a beer from the fridge, along with a second Coke he set in front of Ryan.

"Ryan, would you like some ice for that?" asked Kirsten, her somewhat frozen smile still in place.

"Um...okay. Thanks, Mrs. Cohen."

Kirsten filled a glass from the fridge's built-in icemaker. She fought not to wrinkle her nose at the cigarette odor coming from Ryan's jacket when she got close enough. Ryan sipped his Coke, remaining silent unless one of the Cohens spoke to him directly. Sandy wasn't offended; Seth was much the same way if was especially tired or hungry. When the doorbell rang, Kirsten set out plates and silverware. Sandy unpacked the bulging takeout bag, handing Ryan the two smallest containers. As he upended the cartons over his plate, Ryan was tempted to start shoveling in fried rice as fast as he could.

Sandy named off the dishes in the other containers, finishing with, "I got a little extra of everything, so feel free to help yourself."

Ryan took a single dumpling, plus a few pieces of moo-shu pork and orange chicken, to go with his rice and noodles. Kirsten left the kitchen, headed in the direction of the backyard. Ryan and Sandy got down to the serious business of eating their dinners. Ryan cleaned his plate first.

"That was fast," Sandy commented. "You get enough to eat? There's plenty left if you want it."

Ryan's headache was gone now, but his stomach was still rumbling quietly.

"I'm okay," he lied again, not wanting to seem greedy.

Sandy grabbed a package of Oreos from the top of the fridge. "You have room for dessert?"

Ryan accepted two cookies, finished them, and yawned.

"I'll show you where you're sleeping," said Sandy, picking up Ryan's backpack.

He led the teenager outside. For a wild second, Ryan thought the Cohens were expecting him to sleep in one of the pool chairs. Sandy opened the door to a smaller building. The first thing Ryan saw was a giant sofa bed, neatly made. There was a TV and a kitchenette.

"You also get your own private bathroom," said Sandy, showing him. "The back door's gonna be unlocked if you need anything else tonight."

"Thanks, Sandy."

"Get some sleep, okay, Ryan?"