I hit End on my screen and switched my phone to silent. I always made sure the first meeting was free of any and all distractions. Often, it was the first time someone had truly listened to what the child had to say and made them feel like a priority. When they felt important, like I genuinely valued whatever they might share, that was where the magic happened.

I rounded the old craftsman building that housed the Alliance and headed to the back where there was a playground and a small field. A handful of other kids and adults were present for their own meetings and mentorship time. Callie caught my eye and waved me over to a picnic table. “Zoe, this is Crosby, the man I was telling you about. He’s going to help you tell the judge what you want.”

The brown-haired girl at the picnic table was tiny. I’d assumed she couldn’t be more than eight years old, but I’d learned from her file that she was actually nine. The idea that her slight frame could be from malnutrition had my gut twisting.

“I want to go back with my mom.” Zoe’s voice was timid, and she didn’t meet either of our gazes. But at least she was telling us what she wanted. Some kids didn’t open up for weeks.

Callie rubbed a hand up and down Zoe’s back. “I know, sweetie, but your mom isn’t well enough to take care of you right now.”

“She probably just needs more medicine. She always gets sick when she doesn’t have it. Maybe the doctor could get her some more.”

There was a burning sensation along my sternum. Drugs. Zoe, not even ten years old, knew that her mother needed drugs to function in any capacity. And her mom had trained her to think of them as medicine. I eased down on the bench. “The medicine your mom has been taking is a bad kind. It’s not good for her, so some people are going to try and help her.”

Eyes wise beyond their years blinked back at me. “They do make her crazy sometimes. Or really sleepy. Sometimes, she doesn’t wake up for a whole day.”

I fought to keep the anger currently coursing through me from showing on my face. “So, it’s good she’s not going to be taking it anymore, right?”

Zoe twisted the end of one of her braids, wrapping strands of hair around her finger. “I guess. But how long is she going to be gone?”

I glanced at Callie over Zoe’s head. “We don’t know that yet. But you’re doing okay with the Calhouns, right?”

Zoe’s little body stiffened slightly. “I want to go home.”