Renegade Path

Her cheeks were bright pink and she kept her hands clasped in front of her. “Yup.”

It was awkward as hell with her uncle standing in my way, but I managed to get past him without knocking one of us off the steps.

I glanced back at Juliet once before jogging down the street and turning the corner.

Chapter Seven

Roman

One of the counselors met me at the front door when I walked into the group home.

I still wasn’t used to the place. The constant noise. The way it smelled. Institutional like all the others but still unique. Discount Lysol instead of the real thing maybe.

“How did your first day go?” he asked. “Stay out of trouble?”

“More or less.”

He tilted his head, not liking my non-answer. I hadn’t figured out this dude yet, so I wasn’t sure if honesty would keep me out of trouble or get me sent to a new facility.

From the moment I landed in the foster care system, it felt like I’d been handed a lottery ticket to a game I’d never win.

“It’s always hard for the kids from here,” he said, almost sounding sympathetic. “But we didn’t get any calls from the school, so that’s encouraging.”

Thanks to Juliet. If she hadn’t vouched for me, I bet I’d be stuffing my Hefty bag and waiting on the front porch right about now.

“Go on up and do your homework. Dinner prep starts at five-thirty.”

“Thanks.”

And that was the extent of my counseling for the day. Suited me fine. After years of dealing with sympathetic and unsympathetic counselors, therapists, social workers, teachers, and other appointed do-gooders, I was all talked out. Any feelings had long ago been stuffed down deep in my rotted soul in order to survive.

I’d worked my way to “level two” in the house, which meant I didn’t need the constant supervision of the house monitors, and I intended to keep it that way. Leaving the door open every time I had to take a piss got tedious. And it was really hard to jerk off in the shower when you had someone asking what was taking so long every five seconds.

“Hey, Pip,” I greeted my roommate and tossed my frayed backpack on the bed.

Foster homes were required to give every child over the age of three their own room. In the few foster homes I’d been dropped off at, that usually meant an attic or basement room. Dark, cold—or hot—and far away from the rest of the family.

Didn’t really help you feel welcomed.

In group homes, I’d lived by myself, had a roommate, or been crammed with up to three other kids in a space the size of a broom closet.

As long as no one touched me or tried to crawl into bed with me, I’d ceased caring who I shared space with a long time ago.

Phillip Plant was a pipsqueak of a kid. I dubbed him Pip for short and he seemed pleased by the nickname. He’d only been in the system long enough to develop a healthy fear of everyone and everything. Little shit almost stabbed me with a pair of sewing scissors the first night, when the last-shift counselor showed me to my room without informing Pip he had a new bunkmate.

Fun times.

Small for his age, he made an easy target for the older, rougher kids in the house. Something I’d put an end to my second night here.

“How’d it go?” he asked. “You’re back late.”

My first two weeks here were spent taking exams, going to therapy and adjusting to the new house and its many rules. All valuable time spent in the eyes of the state. Not like I was already behind or anything.

And teachers wondered why I struggled to live up to my “academic potential.”

“Not bad.” Was I going to sit and gush about Juliet to my roommate? Hell fucking no. I didn’t talk about personal shit with anyone.

“Evie said she saw you with a girl.”

I blew out an irritated breath. A few girls were housed on the third floor here. Evie Potts was their ringleader and she’d made it clear she wanted to bag the new guy. Girl couldn’t take a not-fucking-happening hint for shit.

“Evie needs to mind her own business.”

Pip shrugged. “Hottest girl in the house wants to blow you. Cry me a river.”

Dating, or even setting foot on the girls’ floor, was forbidden. Grounds for immediate removal to a much more secure facility. Even if I had been interested in what Evie was offering, I wasn’t going near her. I’d had enough of being yanked around. I planned to do whatever I could to make this the last stop on the foster care train. At least until graduation. If I ever fucking graduated. Some days I wasn’t so sure sticking it out was worth the effort.

I threw myself on my bed and dug out my history book. At some point, I’d need to gain access to the sole house computer to turn my assignment in, but I’d ask one of the counselors on the next shift. They seemed less stressed. I steadily read through the assigned chapters and scribbled down some notes. There was a lot to catch up on and I briefly considered asking Juliet to “tutor” me.