Her chin swivels slightly toward me, her eyebrows shooting up cartoon high. “Right? The thing that I find so fascinating is that there were no witches in the late sixteen hundreds; those poor people were executed for no reason. They were mostly marginalized people being blamed for things people didn’t understand. But today, Salem is full of modern-day witches. I’m sure Emma will tell you more. She’s really involved with the local historical societies. She even leads tours at one of the museums.”

Emma.

Do not freak out, I order my brain, but the anxiety bypasses my brain, hitting my bloodstream instead. Emma Morgan. A person I have only a vague memory of ever meeting but who has suddenly materialized in my life in a very big way.

A part of me had hoped I might recognize her, but as soon as I saw her, that had fallen away immediately. She was a stranger, just like everybody else. I didn’t even remember that she was Mexican American.

She and Simon came to the group home a few times to meet me, but I was out with friends and only met them during the placement meeting. Emma was quiet and direct, but not particularly warm. I didn’t know what to think. I turn my gaze out the window and am met with an ugly strip mall, cars honking at each other in the parking lot. I shift uncomfortably, trying to keep my heart rate even as I mentally recite the few facts I know. Simon and Emma are my new foster parents. They have four daughters. They became foster parents specifically for me.

“Yeah, you told me about her job,” I mumble.

“And they’re a blended family. Their oldest is from Simon’s first marriage; the youngest three they had together.” She says “blended” like it’s something delicious, an ice cream sundae or a chocolate-covered caramel. She clearly thinks this is the ticket to me fitting in. “Simon is so excited to have another guy around the house.”

She’s told me this already—Simon told me too—and hearing it again isn’t making me feel any less stressed. Who has four kids? In my experience, most people aren’t even all that great at taking care of one. And what does it mean to have another guy around the house? Is he going to expect me to know how to talk about sports? Cars? I literally have zero experience with either. “Ah,” I manage. Part of me is now wishing I had been around to meet the girls when the Morgans tried to visit. Four new people is going to be a lot.

Kate/Kaitlin was clearly hoping for a more enthusiastic answer, because she nods, then slumps back against her chair, and we go back to silent sweating.