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I unlocked my door like an automaton, leaving it hanging open behind me as I headed into the kitchen in a daze. It’s happening. The exposure I’d guarded against for decades hovered over my head like a storm cloud.
Good thing I’d gathered everything necessary to guard against the impending rain.
So I didn’t enter Kira’s bedroom to rail against her absence or take a much-needed shower. Instead, I climbed atop a wobbly kitchen chair and rooted around in the back of the cupboard for several long minutes, seeking the coffee neither Kira nor I drank.
Ah, there it was. Pre-ground crystals, still aromatic within their unsealed container. Pouring out the entire mess into the sink, I snatched up the ziplock bag of fake IDs that was revealed as the coffee grounds flowed out.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Good thing I was a fox or I would have fallen flat on my face when the lanky social worker waltzed through my door without bothering to knock first. As it was, the ziplock bag slid from suddenly nerveless fingers and I had to use a tendril of my star ball to nab the slippery plastic before it fluttered toward the floor.
Still, my voice was serene as I denied the truth to Simon’s face. “Of course not. Just making coffee. Want some?”
As I spoke, I jumped down off the chair just a little too lightly to appear human...then made up for that lapse by scraping the wooden legs loudly across the floor while tucking the article of furniture back into its usual spot. I could almost hear Mr. Grouchy downstairs growling into his comforter, wanting to know why I couldn’t keep banker’s hours like everyone else...which might have explained why Simon was here. Had an ornery neighbor called Social Services just because I’d been too loud after dark?
I wasn’t given time to pursue that supposition, though, because Simon responded with an easy “Sure,” catching me off guard as he called my hospitality bluff for the very first time. What, now he wanted coffee? After years of politely evading my offers of tea and cookies? Of lifting his hands off the table when he accidentally brushed the surface, as if my bad housekeeping would rub off at a touch?
Unfortunately, while the sink was full of coffee crystals, the apartment possessed no brewing apparatus. And I wasn’t even sure we still had a mug after Kira’s most recent juggling attempt.
So I utilized one of my favorite game plans—when in doubt, go on the offensive. “What are you really here for?” I demanded, realizing as I spoke that there was no need to toady up to this social worker any longer regardless of his current reason for invading my home. Because, sure, for the last decade Simon had held the key to my happiness in his clammy fists. But Kira and I would shortly be starting over in a new community...and this time her ID would say she was over eighteen.
“To see your sister,” the social worker replied, then proceeded to drawl out more explanation than he really needed. “I realized Kira wasn’t here last time I spoke with you. Doesn’t look like she’s here now. Where is your ward?”
As he spoke, the male’s eyes trailed across the combined kitchen and living room. And as Simon searched for a girl who was very obviously not present, my brain caught up with the adrenaline that had been coursing through my veins ever since the social worker barged in.
Wasn’t his current behavior a little beyond the pale, even if the neighbors had called to report me? Since when did city workers make house calls late on a Friday evening? And why was he suddenly so intent upon seeing Kira?
My gut told me to get out of there, the sooner the better. And I trusted my gut. So I pasted on a smile and lied between my teeth.
“At a sleepover with a friend,” I answered, mentally shuffling through the contents of the apartment as I spoke. Was there anything else Kira and I couldn’t live without? Not really. My sister had sold Mama’s last possessions, I kept all of our cash in my pockets, and our mother’s star ball had recently been hanging out on my sister’s person. Everything else was just so much jetsam ready to be thrown overboard as we abandoned ship.
“I’ll go see her there then,” Simon answered, breaking into my musings and accepting the deflection more easily than I’d expected. “What’s the address?”
I was tempted to rattle off a fake street number then push the human out the door. But instinct told me he wasn’t going to leave so easily. Might call in a coworker to check out my story while he kept me talking, wasting time I could use to get my sister back.
So I parried rather than feinting. “Give me a minute. I’ll hunt it down for you,” I offered before slipping into the bedroom and closing the door in his face.
Then, just as I’d done two nights earlier, I gave into my fox’s urge to flee the premises. It was ten times easier to do so in Kira’s bedroom than it had been in that gas-station restroom, the window here a little larger and the fire escape on the outside providing an easy pathway to the ground.
“Hey! Wait!” Simon’s face appeared at the window sooner than anticipated. But I didn’t pause or answer, knowing his long arms and legs would take far too long to slip through the small gap after me. Instead, I just ran down the metal steps with heavy footfalls that once again wakened the neighbors. Then, knowing I was irredeemably cutting off all possibility of retreat, I slunk into the shadows and disappeared into the night.