Wicked Innocence (Wicked Innocence 1)

“Yeah,” I said. I still had no idea where this conversation was going.

“It would’ve been nice to hear about that from you. That’s just the kind of thing I was talking about. You’re really making a go of this managing thing. Your mom and I are proud of you.”

Happy that I’m no longer an embarrassment, you mean.

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it,” I said, rubbing my eyes. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the band, because all I could think about was her. “Look, I gotta go. The guys are performing tonight and I still have some shit to organize.”

“Of course. Will you come over for dinner this weekend? It would make your mom happy.”

“Sure,” I agreed. “See you then.”

After I got off the phone, I grabbed my keys and walked out the door, knowing what I had to do. There was only one way to find out the truth: I had to speak to someone who knew her back then.

***

Nate looked surprised to see me. I would’ve too, considering I was standing on his front doorstep with my hands shoved in my pockets. I’d given him a lift home one day after his mother had to work late.

“Sax,” he mumbled. He glanced down, refusing to look me in the eye. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to ask you a couple of things.”

“Is this about her brother?” he said. He held the door open for me and I walked inside. He glanced around, embarrassed. “Sorry, the place is a mess.”

It wasn’t. In fact, there wasn’t a thing out of place. I got the feeling he was embarrassed by the lack of possessions he and his mother had.

“It’s cleaner than my house,” I said honestly. “Look, I’m not here to hassle you, Nate. I know better than anyone how a single moment can shape the rest of your life. I just thought you might need someone to talk to. Seeing Mica—” I stopped myself as it dawned on me he hadn’t called her Micah that day. “Seeing Mikayla must’ve been a shock for you.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. He slumped down onto a scruffy, worn armchair that sat under the window and pointed at the sofa, which was a mismatched old green vinyl.

I sat down, the bars from under the worn out cushion digging into my backside. “You’ve never spoken much about your past.”

“Because that’s exactly what it is: my past. Only it never really stays that way, does it?”

No. I guess not.

“You were eleven when it happened?” I said, clearing my throat.

He nodded, picking imaginary bits of lint off the arm of the chair. “I was being bullied by some kids in school, so I thought joining the gang would protect me.” He let out a nervous laugh. “I was actually just glad it wasn’t me they were picking on when they started hassling Peter. Then they started really giving it to him. I was so scared, but I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t or it would have been me next.”

“Nate, we all make mistakes. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. The real test is what you do afterwards. Have you learned from what happened? You can’t fix it, but you can decide where your life heads after it.”

He nodded. “And I am. I’m trying. I go to school. I come home. I think about that kid every day. Seeing his sister today…” He shook his head and wiped his red eyes. “I remember the way she looked at me in the courtroom. I’ll never forget that.”

I hesitated. I couldn’t push this kid for more information on Micah. I felt sorry for him, but at the same time I hated him for the hurt he’d caused her. I saw so much of myself in this kid. I stood up and smiled at him.

“Will I see you back at the refuge?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again once you found out what happened,” he said quietly.

“Nate, I’ll be pissed if I don’t see you back there, okay?”

He smiled and nodded. “Okay.”

***

My fingers drummed along the edge of the coffee table as I waited for my laptop to load. I sat hunched over on the sofa, my forearms resting on my knees. Fuck. I’m shaking. I clicked Google and typed in ‘foster care,’ ‘murdered,’ and ‘eleven.’

Hits filled the page and I slowly scanned each one, waiting for something to jump out at me. My stomach tightened, reading through report after report of children that had died while in care.