Page 29 of Twisted Legacy

My mother went off to jail, and I was sent to my first foster home. When they released her and reunited us, we moved again. This time to Vegas. Until then, our moving was always like a game. A road trip. An adventure. But afterwards, it was fraught with paranoia. Panic that could only be subdued by the comfort of booze in her system. Years later, we moved back to Nags Creek.

The next time mom ever told me to stay on the move was the week before she disappeared for good. I was fourteen, and back in foster care, but I’d go to her place three towns over for a visit, even though I was supposed to be on my way to school.

The year before, started on anti-depressants to level out her moods. That morning, she was different. More alert than I had seen her in a while, but also more on edge. Almost manic. She’d been sober for about six months, had a new boyfriend, and was holding down a job. Mom had a new outlook on life and we were making plans for me to come home. But when I walked through the door that day, I could tell things had gone to shit.

The house was trashed. Her hair was greasy, like she hadn’t washed it in days, and there were clothes all over the place. When I asked what was going on, she started talking about spies and being found. Then she told me we’d be leaving again. But instead of waiting for the courts to clear me to come home, we were taking off. She needed to get things in order. It would take a month for her to arrange everything and this time we’d go to the east coast.

She told me it was a mistake to put down roots anywhere, and that she finally figured out the system. Six months. That’s the longest we could ever stop moving, because they always found us after six months.

Did I care that she was drunk and talking about changing her last name again? Nope. She was telling me I was coming home, and we were leaving the depressing ass town I lived in behind.

I was happy to go. It seemed like all our problems started when we were forced to stay in Nags Creek. I promised not to tell anyone our plans, and I went off to school, so my foster mother wouldn’t get suspicious. When I came back a week later to check in with my mom, the house was empty. I checked back the next week too, and there was no sign she’d ever returned. I asked the neighbors if they’d seen her and they all said no. Not that I expected them to tell me if they did. Mom always picked places where people minded their own business.

I hunted the bars for her, the parks, anywhere I could think of. I stayed at her place, hoping she’d sneak back in the middle of the night. She never did. I finally accepted that she left me behind, off on her new adventure with her new name. A woman without a kid.

My foster mother reported me as a runaway and said I stole money from her, and I got shipped off to juvie. I spent two weeks there and then met Mrs. Sprout. I told her I was set up. I didn’t steal money, cars were more my thing, and explained that I didn’t run away, I was in Porter looking for my mother. It’s the same thing I told the judge before he sentenced me, but he didn’t care.

Mrs. Sprout listened, she went to mom’s place, and told me there was still no sign of her. Her purse, phone, everything that a person would take if they were leaving the house, was still there. She even went to the police, but all they did was knock on a few doors the same way I did and got no leads. So I had to accept mom bailed on me and didn’t take anything, because she really wanted to leave her old life behind.

I spent ninety days in juvie, then moved to a group home. Mrs. Sprout helped me pack up mom’s stuff. Surprisingly, the rent was paid up six months in advance. I don’t know where she got the money to do it. I didn’t care. I packed up anything I wanted, and let the landlord trash the rest. I picked up Clint from Sasha’s place and stopped thinking about my mother. I didn’t need one. Didn’t want one. I knew I could only rely on myself.

I didn’t think anything of the fights I got into. The conflict with the group homes and foster parents. The number of times I went back to juvie over the years. But now I do. I think of all of it and see a pattern. I moved. A lot. Outside of juvie, I never stayed in a home for more than six months, until I got my apartment.

“I wasn’t running. The places I was living weren’t a good fit, and you still haven’t explained why this latest investigator won the lotto on finding me.”

“It was a Hail Mary, really. He was messing around with some aging software, scanned your baby picture in, and got a hit on someone who might look like you.”

“On social media?”

This is why I hate those apps. I’ve never been into plastering my face all over the internet, but it looks like someone caught me in the background of a selfie.

“No.” Her lips twitch. “It was a mug shot.”

That tracks.

“Is Canyon Falls a good fit? Or have you decided to go back to Nags Creek?”

There was a time when I’d have said Nags Creek is the last place I’d want to live, but I built a life there. I had ways to make money. A little money or a lot of money. I know how to blend in on those streets. Stay hidden. Something I’ve been unable to do here, and now I feel like I’m under a microscope with Moira and Scott calling me all the time. It’s suffocating.

“I don’t belong here. Out of every place mom ever discussed us going, California never made the list.”

“Hailee had a list? I was under the impression she was winging it.”

I was too, but I’m not so sure anymore. “You say everyone was trying to protect me. From what?”

“It’s not my place to tell you.”

“Well, I’m not talking to your son or his wife at the moment, so feel free to spill the beans.” She stays quiet. “Fine. All of you can continue to keep your secrets. But until somebody can be honest about what the fuck was so scary that I spent my life bouncing around from one shit hole to the next -while you all lived up here- then I’ve got nothing else to say to any of you.”

I walk away, a tiny part of me sad when she doesn’t stop me.

Chapter18

Finn

Ihaven’t seen Thea outside of class since she came back. She’s never in the dining hall at the same time we are and has changed the time she leaves the dorm in the morning. She’s probably avoiding us, but there’s no reason for her to do that. We’re not her enemies. Anymore. Though, I was never really her enemy to begin with. I swore an oath, and I honored it, but it was never personal.

Our last interaction wasn’t the friendliest, so I can understand if she’s still pissed about it. I operated on some information that may have been incomplete and I can admit I was too hasty to jump to judgement.

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