A million kinds of tea—loose-leaf, Lipton, organic-green-goji-berry bullshit. Why does every middle-aged white woman love Red Rose tea so much? I glanced at the windowsill—all clear. No ceramic circus animals. See, I thought. This is why you need to get rid of that pillowcase. Toss it all into the ocean and be here now.

“Remind me to get you a bus pass,” Francine said, bringing me back. “It’ll take you to every trail head in every forest; there’s a ton all over the island.” She put another sandwich on my plate. “This one has goat cheese, can you believe it? Goats are adorable.”

It was a perfect day—I looked at the table laden with food, at this nice lady who made it all for me and who let me walk wherever and whenever. Who seemed to trust me already.

I wanted her to like me.

I wanted this job.

I wanted to see Sean on Monday.

“Francine,” I said. “I hiked at Salishwood.”

“Oh, good! Isn’t it beautiful?”

I swallowed. “It is. I’m—sort of working there.” I spoke fast, terrified to ruin the best thing I’d had in forever but more scared of getting caught in a lie of omission. Aside from stealing, lying is the number one crime foster kids are accused of and ruined by, no matter the kid, no matter the situation. We are liars. Says everyone. I’ve practically killed myself keeping that one at bay.

“You’ve been here three days. How’d you manage that?”

I couldn’t read her tone.

“I saw a notice at Blackbird and took a chance and applied. I didn’t want to bother you unless I got it—”

“Or risk my saying no.”

Note to self: Francine is not dumb.

“But,” I said fast, “it’s not paid; it’s just an internship, so really it’s not a job job. I’m sorry.” And truly, I was. Because I’d maybe screwed myself out of my dream work situation. And Francine did not deserve to be even half lied to.

She squeezed a wedge of lemon into her teacup. “You tell Joellen?”

“I will. I swear.”

“You need to tell me when you make a decision like this.”

“I will.”

She put a cucumber-and-cream-cheese sandwich on my plate. Was she worried I was malnourished?

“Well,” she said. “Summer internships are good.”

I clenched my toes tight in my shoes. “They said I could stay all year. If I wanted.” My heart raced.

She took the tea bags out of the pot and looked at me. “Muiriel. My job is to help you do your job, which is to graduate from high school. School is your job; it is your only job.”

“I’ve always worked, you have my report cards—I can do both, I swear.”