Jason~
One moment I'm laying on a bed with my Instagram up on my phone, the next I'm being hissed at by a tiny girl in a hurry.
"They're here! Hide!" She whispers frantically. Tim and I share a single look for a split second, the first time we've looked at each other in hours probably, and we bolt for our hiding places.
Unfortunately, we chose the same one. I send him a glare as we both hide under the large bed, keeping ourselves held up against the bottom of the frame.
"This is my hiding spot, get your own." He whispers, arms straining to keep him up. I scoff quietly.
"I was here first, and you're so skinny you can fit anywhere else. You get out." I hiss back. He sends me a hate-filled look.
With what I'm sure is all the strength he has, he shifts his weight to the leg furthest from me, right before kicking my ankle with his free one. I grit my teeth, but I don't budge, nor do I make a sound.
With how close we are, retaliation is easy. I hip check him, hard. He flinches but doesn't fall. He removes one arm, just to elbow me in the face. Or, as much as he can manage without falling.
I open and close my mouth, my jaw getting sore. I knee him in the thigh, and the ensuing spasm I caused makes just that one leg fall with a heavy thunk.
We freeze, listening.
"Sorry, just a leg spasm, I won't drop the suitcase don't worry," Cora says, muffled by the door.
"Oh honey, is your leg acting up again? It's been so long, did something happen?" A lower yet feminine voice asks. She might have an accent, but I can't hear it clearly.
"No! No, nothing happened. I was just sitting for a while and my leg fell asleep. I'm fine mom." Cora speaks again. Tim raises an eyebrow at me, to which I shrug.
"Well okay, if you say so. But you really need to be careful darling. I won't have-" the voices fade away as they walk down the hallway.
We wait, and wait, for just a few more seconds before we slowly let ourselves sink to the floor. It was not long after that that I start to hear music. Not blasting music, but music nonetheless.
We crawl out from underneath the bed like monsters from a horror movie I watched last week. I send him a glare silently.
"I was right there, you couldn't have found a better spot?" I seethe quietly. He huffs.
"Not one that wouldn't make any noise. Where did you expect me to go? The wardrobe?" He hisses back. I throw up my hands in exasperation.
"Yes. You can hack into NASA on a whim, without detection, but you can't shut a door quietly? I call bullshit." I state. He scoffs.
"Those are not the same thing." He throws his hands up the same way I did. I open my mouth to retort, but I hear two sets of footsteps, even over the music. I opt to just glare at him with my arms crossed. I find the best revenge is to ignore the brat.
He sticks out his tongue at me, and I vaguely regret rooming with him. We sit at opposite ends of the room. He clicks away at the laptop he borrowed, and I try not to smirk at the sunflower stickers adorning the otherwise sleek silver.
It takes what feels like hours for him to scramble toward me. I scowl at him but he shoves the screen in my face before I can even ask what he's doing.
"Look at this." He hisses. I don't have a choice, but it's intriguing enough on its own.
"Are those, screenshots?" I question. He nods, handing me the laptop so I can scroll through the folder of pictures.
Each one has a photo of a gorgeous European woman and a caption that reads almost the exact same text.
'Love you, baby! Costa Rica is gorgeous!'
'Miss you, dear! San Fransico has so much to see!'
'Be home next week, sweetie! The Kansas heat is wonderful!'
I frown. Is this Cora's mother? Why would she leave her daughter here if she's just out vacationing? It's obvious they keep in touch somewhat, but there's something in the way she's wording these texts that it doesn't seem like she's missing her child. Like this is just an obligation.
It's shocking when knocking sounds at the door across from ours. I hadn't realized I was so lost in thought until Tim is closing the laptop screen and slinking back under the bed.
"Hi honey, we just wanted to have a small chat before we head out." A male voice says, barely muffled by the door.
"Um, okay, where are you going?" I hear Cora say, her voice sounding, off. Maybe it's the door.
"We're just going to say 'hi' to some friends while we're in town. We shouldn't be out too late, we'll be back by tomorrow morning to say goodbye. We promise." The female voice from earlier speaks. Now I can match a face to her voice.
"Yeah, okay, umm before you go, there is something I need to talk to you about." Cora rushes, hesitating on a few words.
"Go for it kiddo, we're all ears." The man says, a small rasp in his voice I didn't notice before.
"Can I have my friends over for a couple of nights? I might also need a little more money in my budget so we can eat and stuff." Cora asks.
"Of course darling! I'm so happy you're being more social!" I breathe a small sigh of relief. She doesn't seem suspicious.
"Thanks, guys." A beat of silence.
"No problem dear. We're gonna head out now. Stay safe, make sure you eat and try to be asleep by midnight." The man bids.
"I will. Have fun, guys." Cora says, and that's all we hear from her after her door shuts.
Footsteps on the carpet and then... There's the quiet slam of the front door. I breathe deeply, unaware I had stopped. Tim has a thoughtful look on his face when he emerges. It takes him a moment to voice anything.
"Cora's parents leave. Like, a lot." He states. I nod.
"You just realized this? Jesus, no wonder Cora let us stay with her. 'Parents coming back' my ass." I bite, not towards him for once.
"Poor kid." He mutters.
"Do they have social services here? This is neglect." I huff. I've seen my fair share of days on the street, and even more street kids to boot. It takes some detective skills to notice, but Cora has that same gleam in her eye. That hopeful one that makes my heart tug.
"One sec." He pulls out Cora's laptop again, which I remember she gave over in the first place after backing everything on it to a hard drive and then closing everything. A supposed blank slate, but at least she doesn't trust us too much.
"Hey, take a look at this." He prompts. I scooch closer to look at the screen. It's an online form for a formal court hearing, for parental negligence. "Apparently it never made it to whatever legal system they have here, but it wasn't deleted. Wonder why." He says suspiciously.
"Can you find any information on who filed the form?" I request. He nods, several pages coming up and going down just as quickly.
"They live in Peaks, a few subdivisions away." He states. "Pulling up a family photo and... Oh." I'm inclined to agree.
In very ugly Christmas sweaters, stands a couple. They look to be in their mid to late 40s, which makes sense. Because in front of that couple sits Charlotte. And right beside her, with the biggest smile I've ever seen, is Cora. She wears an equally ugly Christmas sweater and a Santa hat on her head.
"Theories?" Tim prompts. I stare at the image for a long, long time.
"I think, the Rogers' are Charlotte's parents. They look nothing like Cora. Black hair, and pale skin, and look at how Cora stands away from them. Not too noticeably, but there's definitely a gap." I point out. He nods.
"They most likely invited her for the photoshoot. It makes sense if they tried to get Cora's parents locked up. They probably don't care about the kind of message it will send." He states, his eyes analyzing and analyzing again.
"But then that begs the question, why didn't the form go to court or whatever?" I ask. He grunts in thought.
"If I had to make a guess, Cora probably told them not to." I give him a look of surprise. "Well, if their legal system is anything like ours, how pleasant do you think the foster homes are? Not to mention she'd have to leave the life she made here, her friends, this family, to go somewhere she may not want to." He explains. I blink slowly at him.
"Dear god this kid..." I trail off. He nods in understanding. "And killing them wouldn't do her any good. This time." I grit.
"Uh, no. Probably not." He agrees. I lean back on the side of the bed with a defeated sigh.
I hate this powerless feeling.