Page 13 of Black
“Yes, and four different schools.”
“Black, can’t you just talk to me? I feel like I’m interrogating you. What’s with these short answers?”
I took a long deep breath. “There’s not much to tell. My mom is an alcoholic; I ran away as soon as I could, hoping my dad would take me in, which he didn’t… After that, I’ve managed on my own. End of story.”
Gabriel looked thoughtful for a few seconds. “But why didn’t you go to child services? Didn’t your mom have the police search for you?”
“I don’t think so… she was probably just grateful to have one less problem.”
“But what about school?”
“I moved schools a lot.”
“Why?”
“Because when they started to ask too many questions or asked to see my parents, I would just move.”
“But this makes no sense… we have a safety net that prevents kids from living on the street,” Gabriel said.
“Right!” I crossed my arms. “You obviously haven’t been to downtown Seattle lately. I see lost teenagers all the time.”
“But surely if you had spoken up to a teacher you could have been put in a foster family.”
I snorted. “Ha! Do you have any idea what goes on in foster families? Let me ask you this: did you know any foster kids growing up, G?”
“No.”
“No, of course you didn’t, because you probably went to a private school, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So rich families don’t take foster kids. But unlike you, I knew enough foster kids to know that it wasn’t for me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wasn’t going to allow anyone to abuse me ever again.”
Gabriel’s hand closed in a fist, but he kept his eyes on me. “Are you saying that your mom abused you? Is that why you ran away?”
God, enough with all his questions.
“I asked you a question,” he said stubbornly.
“And I told you that’s none of your business,” I shot back.
He gave me a grim look but didn’t press any further. “You’re staying here until we figure this out.”
“Figure what out?”
“You and your legal problems. We need to get you a place to stay and a job so you can pay the fine,” he listed quickly. “And tomorrow you’re contacting the counseling service that your lawyer referred you to.”
“Hey, back off, Uncle G, I’m not some broken thing for you to fix, you know.”
Gabriel lifted both hands and spoke in a soft tone. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Okay,” I said and softened my tone. “If I can crash on your couch that would be a help. I haven’t slept for almost forty hours and I’m exhausted.”
“You would probably be more comfortable in the bed,” he pondered out loud.
