The Heat Seekers

“Like I said before, you can ask me anything,” Tempest replied eagerly. Helping young girls was what made her life so fulfilling. “What would you like to know?”

“Ma’am, if my mother hits me, and I call the police, what will happen to her?”

Tempest crumbled up the piece of paper she was holding in her left hand, her way of venting her anger without showing it on her facial expression. When a child brought up abuse, any form of abuse, Tempest immediately wanted to hunt the culprit down and open a can of whup-ass.

Kensington stared at Tempest, awaiting a reply. Tempest exhaled and answered, “Has your mother ever hit you, Kensington?”

“Maybe,” Kensington whispered, lowering her eyes to the floor. “Maybe not.”

“I see.” Tempest knew the child was scared to death.

“I’m just saying, what would happen to her if she did and I told someone?”

Tempest decided to come clean, even though she knew it would bring about a less-than-desirable reaction. “The Department of Social Services would investigate, and depending on the results of the investigation, they might press charges or place you in a foster home or both.”

“A foster home!” Kensington exclaimed, jumping up out of the chair, startling Tempest. “That means I would have to live with strangers?”

“Temporarily. At least until the matter could be resolved by a court.”

Kensington slowly sat back down in the chair, trying to regain some composure. “Thanks for answering the question.”

“You’re very welcome.” Tempest got up from her desk to open a window. The office was getting stuffy. When she sat back down on the edge of the desk, she asked, “Kensington, are you sure there’s not something you’d like to tell me?”

“I’m positive,” Kensington responded, flashing a phony smile. “I’m just scared about this pregnancy and all.”

“Don’t be afraid, Kensington.” Tempest held out her hand, and Kensington took it. Tempest rubbed Kensington’s knuckles with her free hand. “You’ll find nothing but friends here at the center.”

Kensington gazed into Tempest’s eyes. “I feel like I have a new friend already.”

“You do.” Tempest grinned. “You do.”

Tempest spent another thirty minutes alone in her office with Kensington until the girl felt comfortable enough to tour the center and meet the others. There was a group session going on, and surprisingly, Kensington jumped right into the conversation with the rest of the expectant mothers. While Tempest had nothing but compassion for all the girls at the center, Kensington claimed a special place in her heart immediately—probably because she reminded Tempest so much of herself.

• • •

Over the next several weeks, Tempest and Kensington became very close. Tempest took Kensington shopping for maternity clothes but told her to keep it a secret from the other girls down at the center. She’d never taken such an interest in a pregnant teen before, and she didn’t want the other girls to be envious.

Tempest also helped Kensington with her schoolwork and discussed possible college scholarships with her, even though college was still years down the road. Janessa and Geren both took a liking to Kensington right off the bat as well. Dvontè was missing in action except for during booty-call hours as usual. Geren even offered to teach Kensington how to Rollerblade once she had the baby. Tempest said she would watch from the sidelines; one busted ass bone in a year was enough for her.

After much prodding, Kensington finally broke down and admitted to Tempest that her mother had been beating her on and off, even during the pregnancy. Tempest immediately handled the situation, deciding to pay Kensington’s mother, Pauline Sparks, a home visit the sistah would never forget.

• • •

“Ms. Sparks?” Tempest asked, rapping lightly on the open door of the small apartment. There were two women in the kitchen area, one propped up on a stool while the other one stood behind her, braiding her hair. Tempest instantly knew the one standing was Pauline Sparks; Kensington was her spitting image. “Ms. Sparks, my name’s Tempest Vaughn. I’m a friend of your daughter’s. I’m the director of the—”

“I know who the fuck you are! I’m surprised I didn’t smell your prissy ass coming a mile away!” Pauline Sparks hissed at her. Her friend started laughing. Pauline snatched her head back, causing her to shriek out in pain. “Kensington’s not here. She’s in school.”

“Actually, I came to see you,” Tempest said, entering the apartment uninvited. She walked over to the kitchenette and reached out her hand. Pauline refused to shake it, rolling her eyes and continuing to work on a thick braid instead. “I was hoping we could discuss Kensington’s pregnancy. Among other things.”

“What the fuck is there to discuss?” Pauline asked with an edge of sarcasm in her voice. Tempest picked up a whiff of beer on her breath. “The little hoe got knocked up. End of story.”

The woman on the stool started cackling again. Temp

est wanted to go upside both of their heads but willed herself not to. She headed over to a sofa in the middle of the living room and pointed to it. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Help yourself.” Pauline flung her head in Tempest’s direction, looking her over from head to toe. “Excuse me if our furniture isn’t as fancy as that to which you are accustomed.”

Tempest sat down on the tattered sofa with weak springs and immediately grew concerned. It was the same sofa Kensington had to sleep on every night, and it definitely didn’t have enough support for her back, especially in her condition. She noticed Divorce Court was on TV and then looked back over at Pauline, trying to establish eye contact. “Can we talk?”