Callie checked her watch and swore. “Alex, we’re going to be late–again–if you don’t get a move on!” she called. “Come eat your breakfast.” 

The thirteen year old trudged reluctantly into the kitchen. “I don’t wanna go,” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t I stay home one more day?”

“Listen, tiger, your fever’s been down for forty-eight hours now,” Callie said, trying hard to sound gentle and not frustrated. “I really should have sent you back to school yesterday. You’re going to fall behind if you keep staying home. And don’t you want to see your friends?”

Alex shrugged. “Not really. They’re all stupid anyway.” He looked over the plate of pancakes she’d made for him and made a face. “Why are they all flat and crispy like that? My mom’s pancakes were always thick and kinda fluffy.”

Callie sighed. “I’m sorry. I never claimed to be a great cook. This was the best I could do. Try one, maybe you’ll like it.”

He poked at the top pancake with a clearly unwashed finger. “I’ll just grab a cereal bar,” he said, opening the cupboard. “I don’t want this.”

“Would you like something else?” Callie asked as she swallowed the last of her coffee. A growing boy needed more than a cereal bar for breakfast. She glanced at her watch again. “I could scramble you up some eggs, maybe.”

“I thought we were running late?” he said. “It’s fine, Callie. I’m fine. I don’t need anything. Just a ride to school.”

Callie caved. “Let me give you some extra lunch money,” she offered. “Then if you feel hungry later you’ll have plenty to eat.”

He gave her a sarcastic look only a thirteen year old boy could manage, his brown black eyes meeting her green ones with disbelief. “You can’t afford it,” he told her. “I’m okay. I don’t want anything. I don’t need anything. Can we leave already?”

“Fine, let’s go,” Callie rinsed out her coffee cup and put it in the sink. “I can’t pick you up today because I have a late meeting at work. Will you be okay riding the bus?” She chewed nervously on her thumbnail.

“Callie, I’ve been riding the bus since I was eight years old. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay, okay, I know I’m driving you crazy,” she said. “I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

He looked her over critically. “You‘ve got Riley’s fur all over your skirt.”

“Darn that cat,” Callie swore. “He must have been sitting in the clean laundry again.” She looked around wildly, aware that it was growing later and later. “Where did I leave the lint roller?”

Alex tore the wrapper of his granola bar and took a big bite, chewing it thoroughly and swallowing before bothering to volunteer, “I think you left it in the car.” He stuck his baseball cap on his head. “Can we go now?”

Callie forced herself to count slowly to five, then pulled her keys from the hook on the wall. “Fine, if it’s not there, I’ll just look like a walking carpet all day.”

Her foster son shoved the rest of the bar in his mouth. He shrugged at her. “It’s not like you’re seeing anyone important anyway. Just a bunch of orphans like me.”

With that, he opened the door, walked into the hallway, and headed down the stairs to the parking lot. Callie stared after him, wondering what she could have done differently.

—

Jophiel tried hard not to wince at the woman in front of him. He tried to remember her name. Gloria Hudson, he thought. In the ten minutes they had known each other, she had gulped down three iced lattes, snapped at the barista, and told him all about her ex-husband, who was, apparently, a liar and a cheat. He wondered if this meeting had been a mistake. Still, he was supposed to blend in, and for that, according to Michael, he needed a job. This agent was supposed to be able to help him with that.

“You ever done any modeling work?” she asked, giving him a small smile. He shuddered internally. She reminded him of a shark scenting blood. “Or acting, even? You’d be great in commercials. The girls and gays would eat up anything you were selling.”

“Not really my cup of tea,” he said, as graciously as he could. “I was thinking perhaps of working with kids. I have a degree,” he almost choked on the lie, but remembered that Michael had insisted that some lies would be necessary for this particular assignment, “in early childhood education. I could teach, possibly or work in a daycare?”

“It’s the wrong time of year to get into teaching or daycare,” she said. “All the schools have hired. You might be able to get work as a substitute a few days a week, but you don’t need me for that. And there’s no real money in daycare. You ever thought of working in erotic movies? Tasteful, nothing too weird. For women, you know.”

Jophiel came to a decision. “I don’t think so, Ms. Hudson. I think I’ll still try to get work that relates to my degree. If you don’t have anything suitable, then I think we’re through here.”

“Okay, okay, fine, I get it. No entertainment work.” She pursed her lips and eyed him one more time before finally lowering her eyes to his resume. “Seems like such a waste, though. I’ll tell you what might suit you. It says here you speak French, Italian, and Greek?” 

“Yes, and Arabic, Mandarin, Swahili, Somali, and–”

“Stop! Stop!” she raised her hands, palms facing him. “I get it, you’re a regular Google Translate walking around in a suit. If you take this job, you’re going to need to dial it down a little.”

“Dial it down?”

“Dress differently. Less Armani and more Target. Well, maybe not Target, but think casual. You know, what you might wear to run errands in.”

Jophiel looked down at his gray suit. It fit him perfectly and was comfortable and easy to wear. He liked it. “What’s wrong with running errands in my suit?”

“Joe,” Ms. Hudson leaned toward him. Instinctively he leaned away from her,, but then he realized she was just going to say something that she didn’t want others to overhear. “I like you. I’m going to do you a solid. A contact of mine needs a nanny for her two kids–and she really wants to raise her kids bilingual. She and her wife spend every summer in Europe and the nanny would get to accompany them. She’s willing to pay an absurd amount of money for a nanny who can speak French and Italian to her children. You’d get your own bedroom and bathroom in her condo and her wife is an incredible cook. You’d eat with the family.”

Jophiel considered. This job would solve several of his problems at once. He was supposed to be human and that would mean he’d naturally live somewhere, and probably even eat things.. “It has possibilities,” he admitted, wondering if this job would allow him enough free time to take care of his real responsibilities. “What is the schedule like?”

“Business hours during the week, four hours Saturday night for their date night, and Sundays off. Their oldest is in school from eight thirty until three Monday through Friday, so you’d just have Shota, their youngest until three pm. Do you drive?”

Jophiel was startled. “I could,” he said, wondering if that was true. He never had. 

“Good, then Aiko will provide a car for you to pick up Mei from school and also so you can take Shota out and about if you want. I think she and Pam will like you, but I have to tell you, if you keep dressing like an investment banker, you won’t get the job. Find something fun, with color. Something that you can sit on the floor and play with kids in. You know–loosen up.”

Jophiel eyed her with sudden affection. He had misjudged this woman. Her soul had a few splotches, sure, and she didn’t really see most of the people around her, at least not the way he did, but she really tried to do well for the people she was matching to jobs.”Thank you, Ms. Hudson,” he said politely. “I will attempt to justify your faith in me.”

“Happy to help,” she replied, offering him her hand to shake. “Now I need another coffee before I call Pam. Where is that barista anyway?”

—

Callie trudged up the stairs toward the condo she shared with Alex. Her day had been long and frustrating. The mother and three kids she was trying to find housing for still had nowhere to stay and she was encountering bureaucratic red tape at every turn. She had fielded not one but two angry calls over a foster child stealing from the school cafeteria. Both foster parents had been livid. She tried to explain to them that Jerry had come from an environment where he had never had enough to eat and that taking food and hiding it away was a response to trauma. Mr. Wright had calmed down and sympathized, but Mrs. Wright was concerned about the effect on the rest of the family.

“We have three other foster children in that school, Ms. Addams,” she had said. “And Jerry acting up and getting himself suspended makes targets out of all of them. You know how kids can be.”

Callie knew. She also knew that Jerry probably needed more attention than a household with three other children could provide. Unfortunately, there were still more kids needing homes than families that wanted to take them. If Jerry couldn’t make it work with the Wrights there was a very good chance he’d end up in a group home for teenagers–which was the last thing he needed. Digging through her purse, she located her keychain, slipped her key into the doorknob, and opened the door. 

She kicked off her shoes before she even stepped across the threshold. On top of everything else, her new penny loafers hurt her feet. Just one more thing that had gone wrong that day. “Alex,” she called out, “what do you think about spaghetti for dinner?”

Alex didn’t answer. He probably wouldn’t think very much of it, she thought tiredly. They ate spaghetti at least three times a week. It was one of the things that she could competently cook. Putting her purse and keys down on the kitchen table, she tried again. “Maybe not spaghetti, then–there’s a pizza in the freezer and I could make a salad.”

Silence. “Listen, kid, I know I’m not a great cook like your mom, but I’m trying,” she said. “Maybe you could give me a break?” Instantly she winced at herself. He’s thirteen, he’s just lost his parents, and I’m asking him to give me a break? How can I be so insensitive?

When her best friend Leah had asked her to be her son’s guardian if he ever lost both parents, she had never really doubted her ability to do it. She had assumed there would be a period of adjustment, but as a county social worker, she had plenty of experience with grieving kids. After the car accident, she had insisted on taking custody of him. Her manager warned her that it would be hard, that he would resent her, and that she’d probably never be able to formally adopt him because she was single. None of that had stopped her.

Every time she looked into his eyes, she saw Leah looking back at her. She didn’t regret taking him in, not even a little bit. But as she rubbed her temples and tried to think about how she could reach him, she couldn’t help wondering. She needed him. He was the last piece of her lifelong friend. Maybe, though, she couldn’t be what he needed? 

Impossible thought. They would figure it out. Callie made sure to soften her voice before she called out again. “Alex, please answer me. I’m sorry, I know it’s been a hard time for both of us. We’ll figure this out. Won’t you please come and talk to me?”

No answer. Callie rose and walked down the hallway, where she knocked on the door of his room.. “Casey Alexander Graham, if you don’t answer me right this second, I’m coming in.”

Still no answer. Callie tried to ignore her growing feeling of alarm. “Here I come,” she said, forcing what she hope was a cheery tone into her voice, and opened the door.

The room was empty.