Page 11 of Fighting the Odds

I woke up this morning expecting to go to school, but she told me that wasn’t happening. That my school work would be collected and brought to me so that I wouldn’t fall behind. I just wish I knew when that was.

“When can I see Sam?” It’s the only thing I care to know.

“Who beat you up, Sierra?” Really, can’t we move past this?

“No one, I tripped. Just ask my aunt. She can confirm it.” I try to keep a straight face. I need her to buy my story.

“Well, we haven’t been able to locate her. We know she’s not working at the same place of employment we have on file for her. We also stopped by your apartment this morning and there wasn’t anyone there. Who’s been taking care of you and Sam?”

“My aunt! Who else?” I’m going to do what it takes to get back home with Sam. Sarah will show up and give them a line of bullshit that they’ll fall hook, line, and sinker for, then this whole mess will be over. As much as I don’t want to go back to her being our caregiver, it’s the only way I can get back to Sam.

“Sierra, if she did this to you, why protect her?” Mrs. Jenkins looks intently at me and I drop my head, staring down at my hands in my lap.

I don’t move or say a word. Pursing my lips, I take on a vacant look, staring out into space. The only way I can calm all the anxiousness and worry inside of me is to imagine being with Sam and Mom. God, why did she have to leave us? I know if she knew it would turn out like this, she would have fought fate with every fiber of her being.

“Okay, well, if you’re not going to talk about who did this to you, then we need to discuss something else. The CPS report made also contains an accusation of sibling abuse.”

That gets my attention and my head jerks up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that it was reported that you were abusive to your sister.”

Jumping from the chair, I slam my hands down on her desk.

“That’s a fucking lie. I’d never hurt Sam.” My breathing is ragged and my body thrums with anger. Whoever made that report is going to pay. And I have a good idea who.

“We’ve talked with Sam and she denies any abuse, but much like you, she’s refusing to speak. The only thing she does talk about is you, and wanting to see you. I can tell she loves you, but until the charges are fully investigated and dropped, you’ll be kept from her.”

I can’t help it. The dam bursts as I break down in front of her. For someone to say I’d hurt Sam is soul-crushing. She’s my world, and I’ve done everything in my power to keep her safe.

Mrs Jenkins doesn’t try to console me, not that she could. The only sound in the room is my sobbing.

“Are you ready to tell me who did this to you?”

“I told you. What’s going to happen to Sam? To me?” It’s going to come out that Sarah isn’t a good caregiver. Hell, they can’t even find her. I’m almost positive that they already suspect she either beat the shit out of me or allowed someone else to do it. They just want my confirmation.

But then my mind races and all I can think about is them finding her and her pulling the wool over their eyes. Making up some story to make her look innocent and me as the bad guy. What if she convinces them I did hurt Sam?

“Well, until we find your aunt, and the investigation against you is closed, you will be placed in separate homes and you will not be able to see Sam.”

A knock at the door pulls our attention. Mrs. Jenkins stands and heads over to open it.

I don’t turn to look. I can hear their hushed words, but can’t make them out. The only thing I made out was ‘send him in.’

She returns to her desk, leaving the door open.

“We received a call from your guidance counselor this morning. We thought it was odd at first since we hadn’t reached out to the school. He explained to us that he heard about what happened with you and your sister from his sons. He wants to offer some assistance in bringing your school work to you—” She pauses mid sentence and looks up at the door. “Ah, perfect, Mr. Stevenson. I was just explaining to Sierra why you’re here.”

“Good afternoon. Sierra, it’s good to see you again, but I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. I’ve spoken with all your teachers and got your assignments for the week.” I just nod my head, no desire to talk. I wonder when I’ll be able to go back to school. Not that it matters, really.

Wonder how long it’s going to take this to spread around the school.

Mr. Stevenson takes a seat in the chair beside me and pulls a manilla envelope from his briefcase, holding it out to me. I just look at it, not even caring anymore. When I don’t reach out to take it, he sets it on the desk in front of me.

“Thank you,” finally slips from my lips. I can’t be rude; he’s been nothing but nice to me.

“Mr. Stevenson, thank you for coming back this afternoon. I haven’t had a chance to tell her.”

“Tell me what?” I speak up.

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