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“Talia. They need you in the principal’s office.”
I glanced up from behind my history textbook. I’d been staring at the words as Mr. Napier lectured, but not really seeing anything.
My heart skipped a beat as the girl sent to fetch me huffed impatiently. I already knew what it was going to be about; I’d been dreading it for the past three days. Since the night my dad died, I’d kept going to class and work as usual, had tried to keep the wheels of my life moving—but the empty chair the paramedics had dragged his body away from seemed to loom like a monster in the little living room, a reminder that my life would never be the same.
Swallowing, I closed my book and tucked it away, then headed down the hall to the office, where Principal Bradford waited with a short, round-faced woman.
“Talia?” she asked, stepping forward.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“I’m Janet Pelletier. I’m from Child Protective Services. Can we talk in here for a minute?” She opened the door to a small conference room.
“Sure.”
I pushed inside and dropped into a seat. She smiled as she sat down, and it set my teeth on edge. What was there to smile about? My dad was dead. I was about to lose the only home I’d ever known.
“Talia.” The smile stayed on her face like it’d been tattooed there, but her voice softened as she sat down across from me. “I’ve been looking over your case, and I’m so sorry about your father. We’ll find you a good foster home for a few years, and—”
“What if I don’t want that?”
“Well, you’re only sixteen. You need at least two years under an adult’s custody before you’ll be able to take care of yourself. My job is to place you in—”
Her phone buzzed, an almost imperceptible noise. She turned it over to glance down at the screen and sighed. “I’m sorry, I should get this. I’ll be right back.”
I watched her walk out of the room and slumped back in my chair, my fingers twisting together nervously.
Two years?
I’d be stuck living with some randos who’d probably give even less of a shit about me than my dad. I’d heard all the horror stories of foster care. I didn’t want to go.
“Sorry about that.” Janet’s heels tapped across the floor as she returned a few minutes later. “Actually, I’m very glad I took that call.” Her perma-smile widened. “We won’t have to put you in foster care after all. Your relatives want to take you in.”
I blinked at her. “What… relatives?”
“Your grandparents,” she said, like it should be obvious. “They’re in a small city in California, and they just reached out to our offices. They’re willing to take custody of you; they want you to come and live with them.”
My jaw fell open. Was she serious? I’d never heard anything about relatives in California. My dad’s parents were dead, and I knew almost nothing about my mom’s side of the family.
Who the hell are these people?
“I don’t… have any family,” I stuttered. “Just my dad, and he’s gone. My mom died ages ago. I’ve never heard anything about grandparents.”
“Trust me, this is a good thing,” Janet said as she smiled at me again. “Family is better and more familiar—”
“How can they be familiar if I don’t know them?”
“Well, it’s better than being in a stranger’s home,” she said gently, but I could hear an edge creeping into her voice too. She was probably used to delinquents mouthing off at her, and she wasn’t going to stand for it. “They’re very wealthy, and they have the connections and resources to help you flourish. Trust me, this is a good thing.”
I didn’t trust her. I had a hard time trusting anyone. My dad had taught me that lesson, whether he’d meant to or not.
“Who are they?”
She glanced at her phone again. “The last name is Hildebrand. They appear to be very well known and respected in California. I’m sure you’ll be happy out there.”
I nodded slowly, trying to process her words.
It wasn’t like I had a choice. I needed somewhere to live, and even though I tried not to let it, a little spark of hope lit in my chest at the idea.
