Joey arrived back at the Mauna Vista group home in the back of Officer Kealoha's police cruiser. The ride had been mostly quiet, except for a few lectures from Kealoha about making better decisions—lectures Joey barely listened to. His mind was still buzzing from the night's events, even though his body felt like it had been put through a wringer.
After getting his ankle checked at an urgent care center, Joey learned it was only a sprain. The nurse had wrapped it up tightly with a bandage and secured an ice pack around it. She'd told him to take it easy for the next few days, advice Joey planned to ignore as soon as he could walk without limping.
The cruiser pulled to a stop in front of the modest two-story brick building that Joey begrudgingly called home. It was large enough to house upwards of fifty kids, with dormitory-style rooms, a communal dining area, and a recreation room that barely contained the chaos on any given day.
Limping as he climbed out of the cruiser, Joey wore his most arrogant smirk. In his mind, coming home in the back of a police car was just about the coolest thing ever. As he glanced up at the group home, movement in the windows caught his attention. Curious eyes peeked out from behind curtains and blinds, residents craning to get a glimpse of the late-night spectacle. Within seconds, shouts, laughs, and jeers rained down from the upper floors.
"Joey got arrested again!"
"What'd you do this time, Thomas?"
"Nice ride, loser!"
Joey soaked it all in with a victorious wave before stepping inside. He could practically hear the whispered gossip spreading through the house already.
Inside, the mood was less celebratory. Two adults stood waiting in the entryway, their expressions ranging from disapproval to outright exhaustion.
Mr. Marks, the head of the group home, stood with his arms crossed, his stern face looking like it had been carved out of stone. His graying hair was cropped short, and his tall, broad frame made him an imposing presence.
Then, there was Ms. Kwan. She was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a soft voice, though tonight even she looked like she was at her limit. Her black hair was tied back in a loose bun, and she wore a cardigan that looked as tired as she did. Despite how much Joey drove her crazy—and he did, often—she was the one pleasant thing about the group home. She was always looking out for him, patching him up after scrapes and calming him down when things spiraled out of control. To Joey, she was the only person she could trust at Mauna Vista.
Kealoha handed Joey over to the group, giving Marks a quick rundown of the night's events.
"Found him running out the back of a gas station," Kealoha said dryly. "He set off the emergency exit alarm and tried to climb a fence. Sprained his ankle in the process."
Joey couldn't help but notice something odd—Kealoha didn't mention the fireworks. Not a single word. His stomach twisted. Did Kealoha forget? Did he somehow not know about them? Did that mean Kealoha actually cut him a break? Or was he just waiting to drop the hammer later? No matter what, Joey wasn't about to bring it up and ruin his streak of luck.
Marks shook his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, his voice tinged with disdain that he tried to keep professional in front of Kealoha. "Climbing fences now, Joey? Got anymore great ideas?"
"I'm open to suggestions," Kealoha quipped, though his tone was more amused than irritated.
Joey ignored them both, hobbling past and heading straight for Ms. Kwan. "Ms. Kwan, you wouldn't believe it! There were cops everywhere, and I had to run through the woods." Conveniently, he left out any mention of the fireworks as he continued excitedly. "And then at the gas station—"
Ms. Kwan held up a hand, cutting him off gently but firmly. "Joey, slow down. Let's get you upstairs first."
Kealoha smirked as Ms. Kwan took Joey's arm, helping him up the stairs. "Good luck," he said as he turned to leave.
"Thanks for bringing him back, Officer Kealoha," Marks said, his tone clipped.
"Anytime," Kealoha replied, though Joey caught the sarcasm in his voice before the door shut behind him.
As they climbed the stairs, Joey continued his excited rambling. "And then I had to jump the fence—you should've seen it. And my ankle—"
Ms. Kwan sighed, her tone as weary as it had been earlier on the phone. "Joey, that's enough. Shower and bed. Now."
Joey blinked at her seriousness. It wasn't like Ms. Kwan to shut him down so quickly, and it sobered him more than he expected. "Okay," he mumbled.
He limped into his room before heading to the shower. It was small, like all the living quarters in the group home, but big enough for one person. His bed sat against the far wall under a small window, with a worn wooden desk and chair pushed against another wall. A shelf above the desk held a sparse collection of books, toys, and random trinkets Joey had picked up over the years. It wasn't much, but it was his.
On his way to the boys' communal showers, Joey misjudged his balance, stumbling over his own feet and hitting the floor with a graceless thud. He groaned, clutching his ankle as a group of younger kids standing nearby burst into laughter.
"Nice one, Joey!" one of them called, snickering.
Joey flipped them off, muttering under his breath as he got up and hobbled the rest of the way. His face burned with embarrassment, but he pretended not to care as their laughter followed him down the hall.
The shower took longer than usual, mostly because of his sprained ankle. The hot water stung his scraped-up knees, but it felt good to wash away the grime from the night. By the time he made it to his room and collapsed into bed, the adrenaline had worn off completely. He let out a long breath, staring at the ceiling.
Kealoha let him off easy. Ms. Kwan didn't even want to hear his story. And Marks? Who knew what Marks was going to do. He wasn't the kind of guy who let things slide. Maybe—just maybe—he'd pushed things too far this time. But he'd think about that tomorrow.
Joey was deep in sleep when something pulled him out of it. A sound? A presence? His groggy mind struggled to place it. Then—
Sharp pain seared through his leg. Joey bolted upright, instinctively reaching for his ankle, only for his blurry vision to land on Mr. Marks, who had a firm grip on it. It was still dark outside, his alarm clock reading 5:30 AM. A slow, smug smile crept across Marks' face—the kind that made Joey want to punch him.
"Fun night, huh?" Marks said, giving Joey's ankle another squeeze. The pain shot through Joey like fire, and he writhed in agony, gritting his teeth to stop himself from making a sound. Only when Marks seemed satisfied did he release Joey's ankle with an almost casual flick of his wrist.
"You're on kitchen and bathroom duty for the next month," Marks announced flatly.
Joey wanted to protest, but even he knew it would be useless. He had gone a bit too far yesterday. Instead, he glared at Marks, trying to push down the wave of resentment rising inside him.
Marks smirked at Joey's silence, his voice dropping into something almost gleeful. "You know, Joey, you're exactly the kind of kid that ends up running the streets, wasting your life away. Just another nobody waiting to get kicked out."
Joey let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah? Well, I'd still be better than you."
Marks let out a bellowing laugh, loud enough to wake the dead. He clapped Joey on the bad ankle—hard—before heading for the door. "Be downstairs by 5:45. Or else."
Joey barely heard the door click shut over the pounding of his heartbeat. He exhaled, forcing himself to sit up despite the screaming pain in his limbs. Every part of him ached—his shoulder throbbed from when he landed on it, his knees had scabbed over, and for some reason, his left wrist felt wonky. He figured he must've fallen on it at some point last night.
It was Saturday, which meant none of the other kids and teens would be up, especially at this hour. But that also meant most of them would be eating in the dining area later, which meant Ms. Mo, the home's cook, was probably already in a mood. With so many mouths to feed, Saturdays were already chaotic enough for her, and now she had to deal with Joey being underfoot all morning. That never made things easier. She hated when kids got in trouble because it meant extra people loitering around her kitchen.
Joey dragged himself out of bed, gritting his teeth against the soreness. Yesterday's festivities had definitely caught up with him. He got dressed as quickly as he could. He sighed deeply. At this rate, he'd be lucky to survive the weekend.
Working with Ms. Mo proved to be exactly as Joey expected. She didn't use words much, just different grunts and guttural sounds that basically all boiled down to 'I hate you and you're in the way.' Though Joey struggled to pick up the workflow at first, he eventually settled into a rhythm.
By 7:30 AM, the first resident wandered into the dining area. Joey had managed to make himself useful, mixing batter for pancakes and prepping the eggs. The tasks didn't require him to move around the kitchen much, which his ankle was thankful for. They also kept Ms. Mo off his back, as he reached a flow state that made the work tolerable.
The other kitchen hands weren't as lucky. Kitchen duty was a regular punishment at Mauna Vista, and with so many unruly kids, there was never a shortage of 'help.' Some slacked off, others played around, and the teens—always the worst—got mouthy with Ms. Mo. That never ended well. If they were lucky, she'd chuck a kitchen item at their heads. If they weren't, Mr. Marks stormed in and dragged them off. Joey always got a kick out of how quickly attitudes changed when Marks arrived.
When enough pancakes and eggs had piled up, Joey limped out to the buffet-style trays in the dining area and dumped in a fresh batch. By 8:00, the room was bustling, laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls. It was mostly younger kids—Joey's age and younger—since the older ones liked to sleep in on weekends.
After last night's infamous arrival, Joey was the talk of the morning. Kids kept asking about his ankle and why he came home in a cop car. Joey basked in the attention, grinning as he acted out parts of the story. But one sharp look from Ms. Mo reminded him that he had work to do. He kept his responses short and got back to the kitchen.
If kitchen duty was tolerable, bathroom duty was the worst thing imaginable. People were gross, but young people? They were disgusting. Dirt and grime clung to every surface. Dried toothpaste splattered the mirrors. The toilets—Joey tried not to think about the toilets. And the showers? He refused to ever recall what he had to clean out of those.
The girls' bathroom was slightly better than the boys', but only just. By early afternoon, Joey's hands ached, his entire body sore as he finally found himself sitting on the front stoop of the home, covered in the day's filth and exhaustion. He let out a groan, rubbing his temples. He didn't know how he was supposed to survive a whole month of this. Just one day had left him feeling like he'd been run over. The thought of scrubbing toilets and dodging Ms. Mo's wrath every morning made him want to throw himself into traffic.
As he continued to sit, Joey felt his head start to swim as the early start to the day finally caught up to him. He barely noticed when Ms. Kwan appeared and sat down next to him.
"Tough morning?" she asked gently.
Joey sighed. "You have no idea."
Ms. Kwan gave him a small smile. "I wanted to apologize for being short with you last night. I was worried when you didn't come home on time."
Joey shrugged. "I was fine."
"Were you?" she asked knowingly.
Joey hesitated, then chuckled. "Okay, maybe not."
She studied him for a moment before speaking again. "Joey, you're smart. You're a good kid. So why do you always find yourself in trouble?"
Joey opened his mouth, then closed it, trying to come up with a real answer. He had none. "I dunno," he admitted. "I mean, I guess it has something to do with my parents? But I never even knew them, so I don't really know what I'm supposed to be feeling."
Ms. Kwan gave him a sympathetic look. Joey had never known his parents—they had died when he was two. He had no memories of them, no real connection. He'd bounced in and out of foster care for years, always managing to avoid adoption, before winding up at the group home when he was seven. He wasn't sad about it—just curious, like everyone else.
She reached over and patted his shoulder. "I know you're not sad, Joey. But maybe you're searching for something without realizing it."
Joey frowned. Searching? He didn't like the way that sounded—like he was missing something and didn't even know it. But before he could think too hard about it, Ms. Kwan nodded toward his ankle. "How's it feeling?"
"Still hurts," he admitted.
"Try to stay off it," she advised.
Joey scoffed. "Kind of hard when I'm working in the kitchen and cleaning bathrooms."
Ms. Kwan raised an eyebrow. "You should've thought about that before running from the police and trying to hop a fence."
Joey winced. "Fair point."
She gave him a look, then tilted her head slightly. "There's more to the story, isn't there? The cops wouldn't be chasing you for no reason."
Joey sighed dramatically. "Does it even matter? I'm the only one who got hurt."
Ms. Kwan let out a short laugh, which in turn made Joey laugh. She shook her head. "You're a funny kid, Joey. But you need to remember that other people could've gotten hurt because of your recklessness."
Joey sighed, resigned. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. I'm the problem in this situation."
Ms. Kwan gave him a knowing look. "And?"
Joey smirked. "And I'll do better."
She snorted. "You say that every time."
Joey grinned. "Yeah, but this time I mean it."
She laughed again, shaking her head. "Sure you do, kid."
Before Joey could respond, she pulled him into a quick, warm hug. It wasn't something she did often, but Joey didn't mind. He leaned into it, letting himself enjoy the rare moment of comfort.
The moment was cut short when the unmistakable sound of glass shattering rang out from inside the home. Ms. Kwan let out an exasperated sigh, already standing up. "Of course," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration. "That better not be the good dishes."
She turned to Joey. "Stay put, and actually rest that ankle."
Then she stormed inside, her voice already rising as she called out the names of whoever was responsible.
Joey spent the rest of the afternoon lounging in the recreation room. He wasn't up for taking part in any of the games. As the sun began to set, an all-ages pickup football game kicked off in the backyard. Joey could only watch with mild interest from the porch. If he wasn't so banged up, he would've been right in the mix, running routes and talking trash. Instead, he sat back, arms crossed, pretending not to care.
A voice interrupted his sulking. "Heard you got busted sticking up a gas station."
Joey turned his head to see Nalani, a ten-year-old girl with long black hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes. She dropped into the chair beside him, sitting a little too close for comfort. Joey had always found her cute, though he'd never be caught dead saying it.
He snorted. "That's a new one."
"I also heard you tried to run, kicked a cop in the leg, and got tackled so hard you busted your ankle." Nalani smirked, tilting her head as she leaned in slightly. "Any of that true?"
Joey wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn't ignore just how close she was. Her hand was nearly touching his on the armrest. Nalani liked the 'bad boys' around the home, usually the older ones—not nine-year-olds like Joey. But in this moment, Joey wasn't about to argue.
His brain completely shut down. Was she actually into him? He had no idea what to do. His mouth went dry. His hands felt weird. Was he supposed to say something cool? What was something cool?
"Y-yeah, I mean… something like that."
Nalani's smirk deepened as she leaned in even closer. Joey felt his face heat up, his mind scrambling for what to do next. He didn't have much time to figure it out.
A sudden crash of giggling and footsteps burst from inside the house as a small group of girls tumbled through the back door, rolling onto the ground in a heap of laughter. Nalani instantly turned her attention to them, grinning.
One of the girls, grinning ear to ear, pointed at Joey. "Told you he'd let you kiss him!"
Nalani groaned dramatically, falling back into her chair. "I almost had him!"
Joey sat there, stunned, as the girls erupted into even more laughter. Nalani stood, casting Joey a playful glance before walking off with her friends. Joey barely registered her leaving, his brain still trying to catch up to what had just happened.
The realization hit him like a truck: girls are evil.
He slumped back into his chair, arms crossed as the giggles trailed away. It had been a long day.