Page 2 of Slayer

Except that creepy kid was me.

I shoved the packet in my bag and stood, grabbing my duffel. The chair legs scraped lightly against the linoleum floor, and the sound cut through the quiet hum of the office. My duffel felt heavier than it should have, stuffed with everything I owned, which wasn’t much. The zipper tugged at my fingers when I lifted it.

Linda looked a little startled at my abrupt exit. “You don’t have to leave now, Stella. You’re eighteen, yes, but the group home is willing to keep you for sixty more days if you need. Then they’ve got another kiddo moving in⁠—”

Her voice wavered just a bit, enough to tell me she wasn’t ready for me to walk out the door for the last time.

“No offense, but I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life. And I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve been really great, Linda. Thanks for all your help,” I told her, straightening my spine. I wasn’t good at the mushy stuff. She’d been the one to get me my job at the local library when I was sixteen. I’d saved four grand in that time because I knew how to live cheaply, and the government paid for almost everything. I was ready for this.

I ate whatever food the group home served even if it was gross. I rode the bus even though I could afford to get a used car. I never got my nails done or bought makeup like the other girls did. I knew how to stretch a dollar.

Her face softened. “Okay. Do you have a place to stay? A plan?”

Did I have a plan? I’d been planning for this since I was twelve. Being poor sucked, so I’d spent countless hours at the library researching the best-paying jobs that took the least amount of schooling since college was expensive. My friend Rae aged out two years ago, and she was going to let me crash on her couch until I got my own place. I was going to be my own person, make my own rules, pay my own way.

I nodded. “I’ll be staying with Rae. I’ll keep my job at the library on nights and weekends and go to community college during the day. In two years’ time, I’ll be an ultrasound tech making nearly six figures a year. I’ll eventually buy a house in South Hill, pay off any student loans I might have incurred, and hopefully get a dog.”

The dog part slipped out, surprising even me. A small dream I had. Dogs were loyal and loved you unconditionally. I’d never had that in my life.

Linda stared at me with her mouth open, coffee cup to her lips. Then she set the cup down and grinned. Peering behind me toward her open office door and the fellow tired employees that lay beyond, she lowered her voice. “We’re not supposed to have favorites, Stella, but we all do, and you’re mine. There’s something about you. The system breaks some kids, but you didn’t let it. You’re going to be just fine, and I’m so proud of you.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, enough to punch straight into my chest and squeeze my heart. A stupid lump formed in my throat.

Linda stood then and sidestepped her desk. Her chair wheels squeaked across the floor, the sound small but sharp.

“Would it be okay to ask for a hug?” she asked me in a sweet, motherly voice.

Oh no. The lump was tightening and my eyes were watering. Why’d she have to say all that nice stuff about me?

My vision blurred for a second, the overhead light turning into a soft smear.

Damn you, tired Linda.

I nodded, and then her arms wrapped around me tightly as I stood stiffly for a moment. When I was little, they hugged us all the time, our foster parents or the house mom. But as we got older, they stopped hugging. My friends didn’t hug at school, so I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been hugged like this. It did something weird to my body, making it feel like the center of my chest was on fire. My heart? Was my heart on fire from a genuine hug? That was sad. I was definitely overdue for therapy.

But who could afford that?

Her sweater was soft against my cheek, pilled and worn but warm, and for one second, I let myself lean into it.

She wasn’t letting go, so I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed her back.

The office felt quieter than before, like the whole building held its breath for our hug.

Why did hugging feel so good? Why did I feel so safe in tired Linda’s warm embrace?

Her perfume smelled faintly like vanilla and laundry detergent, familiar in a way that made my throat ache.

You need therapy, I told myself and tried with every ounce of self-control I had not to cry, but a single traitorous tear slipped through my eyelids.

I pulled away from Linda, wiping all evidence of the tear away as she went over to her desk and wrote something down. The pen scratched loudly against the thin stack of forms.

When she handed it to me, I glanced at the piece of paper to see her name, home address, and cell phone number.

“Call me when you graduate from college. I’ll come to the ceremony.” She beamed at me.

Her tired eyes crinkled when she smiled, and for a second, the whole fluorescent-lit office felt softer.

Oh man. I had to get out of here before I really started giving in to the emotions that were overwhelming me. They were bubbling under my skin like someone had shaken a soda can and set it in my chest.