“It drives me nuts because I feel like the people in charge of the system have absolutely no idea what it feels like to be a foster kid.”

“Exactly.” Fin stood and paced from one side of the porch to the other. Fin had been in and out of the foster system in Louisiana before her mother finally got her shit together enough to sign over custody to her sister, Jetty. Fin and Via both knew exactly what it was to have nothing to hold onto but yourself. To store every other bite of food in your pocket because you didn’t know where your next meal might come from. To fall asleep with strange sheets on your cheek and strange smells in your nose. To be told that this new stranger was your brother now, or your sister. Or your mother.

Fin brushed tears from her eyes and rounded on Via. “I’ve seen too many kids run afoul of the system. Took me too many years to end up here. With you and Jetty. I’ve seen every kind of neglect under the sun. And now I just have to sit on my porch with you and know there are children out there who need me. Right this second.”

Via held out her arms, like she used to when they were skinny preteens, them against the world. Fin went immediately into the sweaty hug her sister offered and they snuggled together on the small porch chair. “Can you see what will happen to you, Fin? The way you do for other people?”

Via had asked this question before, and she knew the answer. Maybe it was her gentle way of reminding Fin what was what.

“Yes, I can see some of it, maybe one-eighth of the picture. Just like everyone else.”

“And what do you see? Do you see a kid in your future?”

“No.” Her voice was rigid and brittle. “I see a man. And I love him and hate him at the same time.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. If I knew, I’d be running in the opposite direction.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THAT FRIDAY, VIA rushed into Cider for happy hour. She was ten minutes behind everyone else and she looked like it. Her messenger bag was overflowing with paperwork she had to do this weekend. Fuck you very much, Mr. Tate. That particular incident just wouldn’t die. Also, her hair was flying in nine different directions, she could just feel it, and she’d lost a button on her favorite peacoat. Not to mention she was pretty sure her scarf was only over one of her shoulders right now. With her luck, the other end was trailing on the ground.

She spotted the teachers’ crew in their usual corner and bypassed them straight for the bar instead.

“Hi, Christian,” she called. She and the silver fox of a bartender had become pretty friendly over the last few weeks. She hadn’t bothered to tell him that she and Evan had broken up, mostly because she never wanted to get his number on a receipt again. She liked him, though. He was a casual flirt, pretty funny and very easy on the eyes.