block me out | station 19

II

Almost a week had passed since the young teen visited the station and got stitches on her knee. She had been staying at a nearby homeless camp. It wasn't the safest place; it was dirty and dangerous, especially at night. But it was still better than being in a foster home. Her cut had been bothering her a lot, causing discomfort when she walked, sat, and even when she tried to sleep at night.

"Vada, pass me the apple, will you?" a boy, not much older than her, said.

"It's literally the last one we have, Finn. Can't you wait until we can steal some more food?" she tried to convince him.

Finn was a sixteen-year-old foster runaway, just like Vada. They had known each other since Vada's first foster placement. She was six years old when her mom passed away in a car accident and was taken to Mr. Marin's house.

"Put your stuff in the room and then keep yourself occupied. I have a game to watch," Mr. Marin told the small child in front of him. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, probably from the beer in his hand or the other empty bottles on the table.

Six-year-old Vada didn't know what to do. He hadn't shown her around the small house, not even where the room was. Finn, who until then had been hiding behind the railing of the house's dirty staircase, made his way over to the younger child.

"Hi, my name is Finnley. What's your name?" he asked her in a whisper, taking the trash bag from the girl's hand and helping her up the stairs.

"Vada," the small child whispered back.

"I'm a foster kid too," he told her, opening the door to a small room with two bunk beds in it. "Mr. Marin isn't that bad. He drinks a lot and sometimes forgets to go shopping, but if you follow everything he says and stay out of his way, you'll be okay." Vada nodded, feeling too uncomfortable with everything that had happened in the past two days to manage to speak. "Anyway, this can be your bunk if you want."

The room was dirty and messy, completely different from what she was used to. Sure, her mom wasn't the cleanest, but their house looked somewhat decent. Mr. Marin's house, however, smelled bad, had food in places where food shouldn't be, and it looked like nobody had used a broom in years, which was probably the truth.

Both foster siblings stayed with Mr. Marin for a year and a half. Their need to look out for each other created a close bond between them. Finnley always tried his best to protect Vada when the old man drank too much, but there was only so much an eight-year-old boy could do.

One day, when both kids showed up at school with bruises on their arms, a teacher reported her suspicions to Child Protective Services, and Mrs. Anderson took them out of the house, separating them. Finn went to a group home, and Vada was placed with another foster family.

When Vada ran away from Mr. and Mrs. Woodlock's house, she had one plan. Only one. Find Finn. Nothing was more important at that moment than finding her brother. When Finnley turned twelve, he got tired of the system and decided to run away for good. He had been living in homeless camps ever since. Vada always visited. They were siblings, regardless of what the papers and everybody else said.

"I'll go find something. I think Mr. Smith's not on shift today, so I may be able to steal some food from his store," the blond teenager said, getting out of the tent. "Remind me again why you don't go get your cut looked at?"

"I'm not risking doctors asking me questions, Finn. You know that."

"V, I'm begging you. You're a pain in the ass moving around all night," he said, causing the fourteen-year-old to roll her eyes in annoyance.

As Finn went out searching for more food, Vada made her way to the station, hoping Jack was working that day. No questions asked, she recalled what the firefighter had told her the week before. She looked around and smiled. Finally, a sunny day in Seattle, which she had been wishing for. She hated the rainy weather they had to suffer through that week. The nights had been cold and foggy, their tent was a mess, and she just wanted some light. Sure she liked the idea of a rainy day, reading a book by the window, under a secure roof, but that wasn't her reality. She didn't have that, so sunny days had become her go-to.