Page 13 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

She had a bag next to her full of my stuff. Four shirts, a package of underwear from Walmart, two pairs of socks. I only had the jeans that I had on. Nothing brings a kid down to earth faster than carting around their worldly possessions in a trash bag.

“Where to?” I asked her.

She just shook her head. “A respite home.”

Respite. Temporary. A night, a week.

I glared at her. “What’d I do this time?”

“The family said you were stealing.” She showed me a watch that belonged to Mr. DiMario. “I found this in your room.”

My heart pounded. He wouldn’t have called Social Services—he would’ve beat me silly. I’d been with the DiMario’s for three weeks, but it was enough to instill fear.

“I didn’t. I don’t even like stupid old watches.”

She rubs her eyes. “What am I supposed to do here, Margo? It’s grounds for removal.”

It’s better this way. Mrs. DiMario stroked my hair until I fell sleep, but I was better off without them. Stronger without them.

I straightened my shoulders and snatched the bag from Angela’s side, rifling through it. Everything was there and accounted for—except one thing.

“Where’s the bracelet?”

She shook her head. “What?”

I ran back into my room. It was no larger than a closet with a twin bed on a low frame and a dresser against the wall. Everything was stripped, even the sheets. I jerked around, falling to my knees.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“The bracelet,” I said. I was frantic. Blue and gold. Blue and gold.

It had to be here somewhere. I should’ve never taken the stupid thing off, but it frayed. I was afraid it would snap if I wore it.

Someone at school might see it and yank, and then he’d be gone forever.

I was halfway under the bed when she grabbed me and yanked me out.

“Stop,” she said.

My attention was glued to the floor.

“There wasn’t a bracelet in here.”

Tears filled my eyes. “I put it—”

“I’m sorry, Margo, but…” She glanced around, throwing up her hands. “I don’t know. We have to get you to the respite house.”

She forcefully led me out of the house. I barely registered where we were going through the tears, but then I was in the car, hugging my belongings to my chest.

Gone. It was gone.

My life here? Easily erased.

How did they manage to do it so efficiently? It’s evil the way kids like me could be wiped off the map. Didn’t like her attitude? Boom, gone.

Like she never even existed in the first place.

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