TIMOFEY
I hop off my bike, jog up to the front door, and shove it open without knocking.
"You tricked a little girl into letting you inside!" the male voice screams. "I never would have opened the door for you. You're not welcome here! We don't need you!"
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Piper says calmly. "That's actually what I'm here to determine. I need to speak to your mom. She scheduled this meeting."
The living room is small and square, with a sagging plaid sofa under the window and an ancient television sitting on the floor in the corner. Toys and blankets cover the scratched hardwood floor. I can smell the spoiled food in the dishes stacked on the table. The sickly sweet scent of rot is strong.
"She isn't here!" the voice barks back. "So leave and never come back."
"I can't do that," Piper says.
I follow the sound of her voice to the hallway just behind the living room wall. Piper is standing in the middle of it, her foot wedged into a wooden door.
The yelling kid can't be older than fourteen, but he's standing in the middle of his room with his arms crossed and a scowl that makes him look a decade older than he has any right to look.
His eyes skirt past Piper and land on me. His expression hardens. "You can't threaten us to do anything. This is private property."
Piper looks back at me and then gives all of her attention to the kid once again. "He isn't here to threaten you. I'm just here to talk to your mom."
"She isn't home. I already told you."
I know Piper can hear the television playing low from the closed bedroom at the end of the hall just as well as I can. It's coming from the same room with the aluminum foil on the windows.
I glance that way, and the kid doesn't miss a thing. He can't. Because he may only be a teenager, but he's running this entire house. It's all up to him.
"There's no one back there," he says quickly. "The baby sleeps with the TV on for white noise. That's all."
"The baby is in the dining room." I can see the bassinet from here. The little girl who opened the door for Piper is sitting on the floor next to it, her legs tucked into her chest.
"Right." His eyes darted around. He's panicking. "I left it on… from earlier. It's nothing. Come back later."
Piper takes a half step forward. "Grant, listen… I'm not here to punish you. I just need to talk to your mom and see how she's doing."
"She's great," Grant says. "She has a job now. That's where she is right now. At work."
He's lying through his teeth. It's confirmed when the little girl walks in front of me and pulls on Piper's dress. "Mama is sleeping."
Piper points at the door at the end of the hall. "Is she in there?"
The girl nods, and Grant's face turns red. "Leave her alone, you…you bitch!"
The curse feels clumsy on his tongue. But when he steps towards Piper, I don't care how much he reminds me of a younger version of myself. I tuck Piper behind me and block the kid's path.
"Don't do anything stupid, son."
"Or what?" he hisses. "You'll take me away? It's a little too late for that."
God, it's like looking at a picture of me at his age. I was right to stay outside. I shouldn't have come in here.
"No one is taking you anywhere," Piper says.
I turn my head to her, my voice low enough so only she can hear. "Don't lie."
Her attention snaps to me just as Grant turns around and kicks the hell out of a lawn chair sitting in his room. The plastic bends and deforms under his foot, but he whales on it a few more times until it's limp and useless in the corner.
When he turns to face us, he's breathing heavily. "You're not taking us today, but you will. Get out of my room."
Piper looks at him with her eyes pinched together in sympathy. She might as well toss acid at the kid. He doesn't want her sympathy. Fuck knows I didn't want any from the man with the mustache who yanked me out of my home.
"Get out!" Grant screams. "You're not welcome here. Leave!"
The moment Piper steps back into the hallway, Grant kicks the door closed in our faces.
"That went well," Piper mumbles. She shakes off the interaction and looks down at the little girl standing next to her. "Where is your mom's room?"
The girl points to the end of the hall. "Is Mama in trouble?"
"No, honey." Piper kneels down to the little girl's level. "I just need to talk to your mama about how she takes care of you. It's boring, grown-up stuff about her job."
"Mama doesn't have a job," the girl says. There's an innocence to the way she says it. No judgment or understanding of what it means. Talking to her is a manipulation. She doesn't know what she's saying or what it could mean for their case. "Grant takes care of us. He taught me how to make bottles for Olivia and—"
"Enough," I growled.
The little girl shrinks away from me. Good.
I grab Piper by the shirt sleeve and drag her towards the back door. "You're here to talk to the mom."
"I'm here to talk to all of them," she hisses. "It's my job. You're just watching. Let me do what I need to do."
"They don't want to talk to you." I rap my knuckles hard on the wooden door. No one answers, so I throw it open. A woman is lying in bed, her hair matted against her head. Her pajamas are dingy and almost transparent from constant use. The room smells like sweat and must.
The scent, more than anything, takes me back.
I see myself standing in my mom's doorway, begging her to get up. To do something. It didn't work. It never did.
If I don't leave now, I'll walk into this strange woman's room and shake her. I'll try to slap some sense into her, even though I know it won't do any good.
I push Piper through the door ahead of me. "Talk to her."
Then I walk away.