With my other hand, I seized a tangle of Marc’s hair at the scalp and yanked it hard, twisting his head so I could whisper in his ear. “Asshole, do I have your attention now?”
He panted and gulped. “Yargh.”
I twisted his arm tighter, sharpening his pain. “I can’t hear you.”
“Y-yes! Let go! Please!”
“Listen to me, douchebag. The next time you pick on someone smaller, I’ll find you and hurt you real bad. If you even look at Reed cross-eyed, I will hunt you down and make sure you never walk the same again. Got it?”
“Yes,” he whimpered.
“This holds even if I’m no longer here. I have spies here now, and they’ll tell me what you did, and I’ll send my gang to hurt you. If you think I’m tough to fight, you should meet my friend Joanie. She’ll come for you.”
I tossed him face first into the dirt and stormed off to my corner of the yard, under the small tree where I often sat alone.
The crowd dispersed. Marc’s entourage left with their chins down.
That afternoon, the younger bully victims like Reed carried themselves a little taller.
Two
“Kids will be kids.” John Kilpatrick smiled, fidgeted, and cleared his throat. The head of the Woodlawn Youth Improvement Center knew it wasn’t every day an attractive power couple waltzed into his office looking to adopt. In fact, only two children had been adopted during the five years he’d been in charge. His center—a combination detention facility and orphanage—had always been shafted for funding and government support. Woodlawn had yet to get the high-tech upgrade that had been promised—invisible electrified fencing, robot guards, and bio-tracker chips for all the juvies and orphans. The thing he craved the most was the ability to administer a steady sedation command through the embedded chip. Experience had taught him there was no other way to control adolescents, especially unruly ones like Ida Sarek.
The couple who had introduced themselves as Seth and Martha Jensen, gazed out of the third-floor office window, rapt with attention at the fight taking place below in the recess yard.
Those goddamn kids. Of course, they had to brawl just when visitors showed up. Kilpatrick would have to dole out punishment later. Ida had been trouble since she arrived three weeks ago. Her case file read like a crime sheet, and she’d been shuffled between youth centers. He’d already put in for another transfer, citing her “unmanageable, violent tendencies and outbursts.”
“The girl is quite strong,” said Martha, “even though the boy outmatches her in size and strength.”
“Yes, well.” Kilpatrick reached for the cord to close the blinds. “I’m sure my administrators will be out promptly to break up the fight.”
“No, please.” Martha raised her hand to stop him. “We’d like to keep watching.”
Seth chimed in. “We’re psychiatrists, you see. It’ll help us know what we’re getting into with our adoption.”
“I see,” said Kilpatrick. “Surely, you’d like to see all of your options?” He handed Seth a tablet. “I loaded the case files of our girls, ages seven to eleven. They’re our most eligible—”
“We’ve already decided.” Martha never lifted her eyes from the brawl. “Haven’t we, honey?”
Seth returned the tablet to Kilpatrick. “Right. We appreciate the thought and preparation you put into this, but we’re keen on the girl named Ida.”
Kilpatrick peered into the courtyard below. Where the hell were Simkins and the other supervisors? The altercation had gone on long enough. If he wasn’t careful, the couple might lodge a complaint against him.
Down below, Ida kicked Marc Mal in the head. Kilpatrick noticed Martha’s smile as the young man crashed to the ground, his body limp.
“You should read her file,” said Kilpatrick, offering the tablet. “At least do me that favor. I want you to know what you’re getting into. Other girls would be more obedient and easier to manage.”
Martha turned to face him. “We know how to handle a youngster like her. We’re professionals.” A shiver traveled up Kilpatrick’s spine as he sensed something ominous behind her smile.
Her husband took the tablet from Kilpatrick and browsed Ida’s file.
“Thanks for humoring me.” Kilpatrick paced. “The girl was homeless, living on the streets of New York City. You can imagine how dangerous that would have made her. Plus, she was part of a gang.”
Seth nodded as he scanned through the digital file.
Martha crossed her arms. “Go on.”
“They finally arrested her stealing drugs from a pharmacy. The police had to stun her. They nearly shot her in self-defense, she put up such a struggle. Since then, she’s been shuffled between four other Improvement facilities in the state.”
“Why?” asked Seth.
“Fighting with the other kids, mostly. She hit a guard in one center and spent a week in solitary confinement for that little display. She’s what we call a lost cause.”
Martha raised her eyebrows.
“With her history and being that she’s seventeen—today, actually—and the fact we eject them when they hit eighteen, she’s not adoptable. Who'd want her? She’s damaged goods.” He chuckled. “They might as well line up her jail cell now.”
Martha frowned and squeezed Seth’s hand. “That’s a terrible prognosis, Mr. Kilpatrick. Ida is exactly the girl we’ve been looking for. We’ll give her a home, routine, and a purpose in life. She’ll be a changed person.”
Kilpatrick couldn’t believe this couple would want Ida, of all the girls in his detention center. Why on earth would they want responsibility for the troublemaker? He’d bet a fortune they would return her within the week. Could he refuse to take her back?
“You’re certain of this? You know the risk you’re getting into? She’s had a violent history and you can see that she’s no stranger to fighting.” He coughed and lowered his voice. “You understand I can’t take her back once she leaves with you.”
A glance passed between the couple. Martha approached Kilpatrick and rested a long elegant hand on his shoulder. “Thank you so much for your concern. You’ve given us fair warning. In fact, you’ve gone above and beyond,
